Title: Bond of Tears
Author: Neena (varscona_pal@yahoo.ca)
Spoilers: Set after the Christmas episode in season three.
Disclaimer: All characters and the Buffyverse belong to Joss Whedon and whoever currently has the rights to the show. This is my own twisted take on events.
Pairing: Giles/Angelus (kind of), NC-17, just to be safe.
Summary: Giles gets caught up in a plan made by Buffy and Angel, and the truth comes out about what really happened between Giles and Angelus. Warning: non-consensual sex implied.

This was going all wrong. Although, living on a Hellmouth, had she really expected anything else?

It had all started with one little lie—it was for Giles’ good, anyway. But things had gotten way out of control.

Spike and Drusilla were back, Drusilla sporting a brand-new, shiny, evil little amulet with which she planned (no big surprise here) to end the world.

Angel had bumped into Dru on his way to the Bronze to meet Buffy. Dru hadn’t heard about his recently re-acquired soul, and he thought it best to play Angelus to get the scoop.

“So they think you’re still Angelus?” asked Buffy. They were huddled together under the stairs where they were less likely to be disturbed.

“Yes. And if we want to get that amulet away from Drusilla, I’m going to have to play the part a while longer. She didn’t have the amulet on her—so she must be keeping it safe somewhere. Tomorrow night is the winter solstice, and at midnight the amulet becomes empowered. I have to be there…and that means she has to trust me.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“I told her I wanted in on the big event, and she said only if I could prove myself worthy. She was suspicious, asking why you were still around. I told her I wasn’t finished playing with you yet, but that I could guarantee you wouldn’t cause any problems tomorrow night.”

“So what’s the deal? I play ‘good little hostage’ while you and Dru go off to become all-powerful?”

“That’s it in a nutshell. It’s got to look good, though. I’ll deliver you to her hideout unconscious. When you wake up you’ll be bound and gagged…a couple of scrapes and bruises wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“Yes, they would, actually. But it’s okay—I’ll deal.”

“If there were any other way…”

“Like I said, I’ll deal. No biggie. Just make sure I can get out of the restraints once you’re gone. I’d rather not be there when Drusilla gets back all betrayed and vengeful.”

“Done. Now, I think we’d better let Giles and the gang in on the situation.”

“No,” she said, quickly. “At least, not Giles. He’s still not too thrilled that I’m even talking to you. If he gets wind of this plan he’ll freak. Promise me we’ll leave him well out of this?”

“If you think it’s best—but I don’t like the idea of lying to him.”

“There’s no lying—just a slight bit of not telling…you’re regular, innocent omission of facts.”

The next night Buffy pleaded off training and patrolling, saying she needed a night off to finish a big English essay. Giles agreed reluctantly. Buffy’s training was slipping, and he feared she might start getting sloppy.

He decided he would take on her patrolling duties for the night. He felt he could do with a bit of field training, himself. So, when the sun descended, he was ready with stakes, a large cross and the crossbow. He hit the usual spots—the parks, a few cemeteries—and was slightly relieved to find everything quiet.

He was about to call it quits when he heard a twig snap behind him. He spun around, cross held in front of him and a stake ready in his left hand.

A pale, peroxide-blond vampire sulked into the clearing.

“Spike!”

“Oh, great.” He staggered closer to Giles, who noticed the sloshing bottle of whisky in his hand and the reek of alcohol emanating from him. “Just what I need,” he slurred, “the Watcher out searching for his kidnapped Slayer. I’ll tell you right now, I had nothing to do with it. Apparently I’m expendable, now that Dru’s got her boy-toy Angelus back. Wouldn’t even let me watch. Well, screw ‘em, I say.”

Giles blinked back at him, stunned. “What do you mean, ‘Angelus’?” he asked, anticipating the worst.

“You know—Angelus—great poof that tortured you, killed your girlfriend…Surprised you’ve forgotten.”

Giles’ blood ran cold. Was Angelus back? Spike certainly thought so or he wouldn’t be here drunk and moaning to him about it. And they’ve got Buffy. His mind raced in a near panic. Why’d it have to be Angelus? Why couldn’t it have been the Master, or a demon robot—or anything else that didn’t scare him senseless?

“Where are they, Spike? Where’s Buffy?”

“Glutton for punishment, are you? Not that I care; if you want to meet your own innards, be my guest. You’ll find them at the old rail-yards.”

Giles took off at a run, as Spike yelled after him: “Do us a favour, then. Before you get yourself all killed, knock that smarmy git’s teeth in for me.”

Giles arrived, breathless and nursing a painful stitch in his side. There was a faint, flickering glow coming from the corner window of the station house. He crept up to take a peek through the window. Buffy was gagged and tied to a support beam—she was bleeding from a cut under her left eye. Angelus paced behind her, toying with her hair and touching her neck.

A blind rage overtook Giles’ better judgement, and he burst through the door, yelling and running at Angelus like a war-hungry Highlander. Buffy’s eyes flew open at the sight of her Watcher on the rampage. She was helpless to warn him off. Was he insane?

Giles lunged at Angelus, narrowly missing him with his stake. Angel dodged, laughing.

“So, the Watcher’s come to watch?” he shot Buffy a look stuffed full of apology and ‘I-told-you-so’s’.

Giles seized his opportunity and grabbed Angelus by the throat. He’d started to plunge the stake home, when an icy-strong grip caught his arm from behind. Drusilla disarmed him by nearly breaking his wrist—he withdrew and clutched at it in pain.

“Have a seat, Rupert,” said Angel, and grabbed Giles from behind, throwing him roughly onto a wooden chair. Drusilla bound his arms to the seat back and his ankles to the chair’s front legs.

Giles, still recovering from the pain in his wrist, struggled in vain against the restraints.

Angel and Drusilla stepped back to admire their work. Drusilla smiled and clapped her hands like a little girl enjoying a circus act.

“Ooh, Angel! Can we have some fun with him? Please? You could rape him like last time—only this time it’ll be so much better with his Slayer watching it all.”

Buffy glared in horror at Angel, who couldn’t bring himself to look her way. She shifted her shocked expression to Giles who was busy glowering at Angel. The look of absolute hatred on the man’s face would have sent most men (and probably a great number of demons) running for cover.

“If only we had the time,” said Angel “But don’t worry, Dru; we’ll have all the time in the world to play our games after tonight.”

He bent down over Giles. “What do you think, Rupert? When I get back we can have another go at it for old-times’ sake.”

“I’d rather die,” said Giles through clenched teeth.

Angel felt as though he’d sunk to a new low, but there was no turning back at this point. “Oh, you will die,” he said, “But not until I’m finished with you.”

At these words, Giles spat thickly in Angel’s face, hitting him just below the eye. Angel retaliated instantly with a punch to Giles’ face, splitting his lower lip. Then he grabbed the Watcher by the hair and yanked his head back.

Giles winced involuntarily at the pain, and then he died just a little as he felt the vampire’s cold lips on his own, grinding in the pain and demanding access to his mouth. Giles struggled but didn’t stand much of a chance. His mouth was soon violated by Angel’s cold tongue, probing and possessing him. Fangs brushed against his lips, and Giles knew the demon had at last shown its true face. His stomach clenched to feel his split lip being sucked and licked by the demon that had all but destroyed him only a few short months ago—the demon who now had a hand on his groin and was stroking him in an obscene mockery of passion. Giles despised the fact that he couldn’t stifle his moan of despair. What must Buffy be thinking?

Just thinking of his young Slayer being forced to watch this made his blood boil, and he was able to strengthen his resolve. Nothing Angelus could do to him would get in the way of his duty to his Slayer. He would suffer indignities and torture—he would die for her, if it would buy her enough time to escape and carry on.

When Angelus finally pulled away, a thin trickle of blood escaping from the corner of his mouth, Giles smiled grimly up at him.

“Let my Slayer go. If you do, you can have me. You can do anything you want to me.”

“You’re in no position to be making deals, Rupert. I’ll take what I want, whether you give it freely or not. And as for your Slayer…I’ll let her go when I’m through with you, don’t worry. It’ll be fun to see how well she copes without her precious Watcher.

“But I’m afraid we’re going to have to save the fun ‘til later. We’ve got a schedule to keep. Don’t go anywhere, now.” Angel gave a hollow laugh and vanished into the darkness with Drusilla at his heels.

When they were well out of earshot, Buffy palmed the dagger Angel had slipped her and began sawing at her bonds. She kept her eyes on Giles who had slumped in the chair with his head hanging down on his chest. She couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed—the world had turned upside-down on her in a matter of minutes. The sight of Giles in torment caused her more pain than she’d thought possible. She used brute force to snap the weakened ropes at her wrists, then quickly freed her legs and removed her gag.

Giles looked up, but it was a moment before he allowed himself to believe what he saw. Buffy was kneeling in front of him, working at the ropes around his ankles.

Neither of them said a word while she untied him and helped him to his feet. There was altogether too much to say and no easy way to say it.

Buffy led her Watcher out of the station house, keenly aware of how timid his movements were and how he hesitated in crossing over the threshold. He stopped walking when they reached the main road.

“Giles?” Buffy turned around when she noticed she was walking alone.

“Where are we going?” he asked softly.

“I’m taking you home.”

“No!” he said, loud enough to draw the attention of a preppy couple walking their dog across the street. He lowered his voice; “We’ve got to find Angelus and Drusilla. Have you got any idea where they might be headed?”

“Don’t worry about them, Giles. I’m taking you home.” She turned to go, but turned back again when he didn’t follow.

“I’m not going home. I…I can’t. Not until I know this is finished.” He looked down at his shoes, and muttered, “I’d re-invited Angel into my home. I can’t go back there.”

Buffy approached him cautiously. There was no easy way to tell him, and she knew he would never be able to forgive her once she did.

“Giles—that wasn’t Angelus back there.”

He looked up at her, confusion in his light-green eyes.

“Angel and I were putting on a show for Drusilla—trying to find out where she was hiding her amulet. Angel had to convince her that he hadn’t gone soft.”

“So…it was all an act.” He said, his voice barely audible.

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” she said, aware of just how lame it sounded in the face of what happened.

“Well, I did,” he said, shakily. He turned and walked away from her, setting a fast pace towards his home. He could hear her following a few feet behind, and was sorely tempted to turn and yell at her to leave him alone. But he didn’t want to open that door right now—there was too much pain behind it.

When he got to his flat, he didn’t stop Buffy from following him in. What would be the point? There was nothing he could do to stop her.

He collapsed on the couch, feeling tired and soiled and wanting nothing more than to be left alone to lick his wounds. But there she was, perched on the couch next to him, piling more guilt on herself than he could ever lay on her. And he didn’t want her to feel guilty. Didn’t she realize what she meant to him? Wasn’t it clear—especially after tonight—that he loved her more than life itself?

The weight of his emotions was crushing him, and Buffy must have sensed it. She put her hand lightly on his arm, but remained quiet, letting her silence speak for her. Giles felt the dam begin to burst. The pain and the hate and fear he’d bottled up for months finally erupted and he was powerless to prevent it. He found himself curled up on the couch, his head in Buffy’s lap, sobbing uncontrollably.

Buffy smoothed her hands over his hair, and clung to him, rocking him gently. Seeing him in this state frightened her more than just a little, but instinct told her that this purging was necessary, and that he needed her to be there for him. She bent her head over him, hugging him close. Protecting him. One of her own tears fell on his cheek, mingling with his tears.

This is our bond, she thought. No one else could ever understand how deeply her feelings for this man went. She barely understood it herself. And to know that these tears were her fault…She cried to purge her guilt. She cried so he wouldn’t have to cry alone.

They stayed in that embrace for a long time—until Giles’ well of emotions had run dry, leaving him spent and exhausted on Buffy’s lap. He eventually fell into a fitful sleep, his large, warm hand clasped loosely over Buffy’s on his chest.

Giles awoke in the middle of the night. His mind was foggy, and he couldn’t figure out how he’d ended up sleeping on his couch, all tucked up under a warm blanket. Then he realized he wasn’t alone. A pale face seemed to have materialized in the darkness of his living room, and it was getting closer. It was Angel.

Buffy was in the bathroom splashing cold water on her face when she heard the blood-freezing scream coming from the living room. She raced down the hall and into the room to find Angel bending over Giles, who sat huddled and screaming against the kitchen wall.

She seized Angel by the shoulder and threw him half-way across the room.

“Buffy? What…’

“Get out!” she yelled, cutting him off.

“Buffy, I got the amulet. You didn’t show at our meeting place…”

“So you came here?!” She knelt down next to Giles, gathering him into her arms. It was all too much for his raw, shattered nerves. He clung blindly to her, blocking everything else out.

“I came to apologize.”

“Apologize? You could never apologize for what you did to him.”

Angel couldn’t help getting his back up a little. “Look, I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be; but you know I did what I did because I had to. You have no idea how much I hated doing that to him. It kills me to remember what I did to Rupert when I lost my soul. Believe me when I say I would like nothing more than to erase all the things I did.”

“But I’m talking about what you did tonight,” she said, icily. “You could have found some other way—any other way. Do you have any idea what you put him through? Part of me wishes you had lost your soul again—that would at least explain how you could have done…You need to get out of here.”

“Buffy, please, just…”

“Get out of here now, Angel.”

Angel backed away, leaden with remorse. There was no sense fighting with her, especially when he knew she was right. There was nothing he could say or do to make things right between himself and the Watcher. Maybe it was best Buffy knew the truth, anyway. Although he wished she could have found out some other way. He left silently, looking back once at the tableau of pain he’d created.

Buffy held Giles against her, feeling his fear slowly seeping away under her touch. When his shaking finally stopped and he was once more asleep in her lap, she made a quiet vow to him:

“I promise you, Giles, that for as long as I’m alive, I will never let anyone hurt you again.”

She bent down and kissed his furrowed brow. Her Watcher let out a jagged breath and relaxed at once into a dreamless sleep.

END