Title: When I Lay Me Down to Sleep (part 9/?)
Author: Neena (varscona_pal@yahoo.ca)
Pairing: G/B
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters and Buffyverse belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, etc. This little ficlet is for fun only.
Feedback: Pretty please? I’m an addict!
Setting: Season 3, before Angel and Faith come into play.
Summary: Everybody needs to sleep, but even sleeping can be dangerous when you live on a Hellmouth.
Warning: non-consensual sex. Violence.
Giles watched as the doctor lifted the screaming infant up so he could see it. It was slimy and mottled and purplish in colour. Giles thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his whole life.
“Would you like to cut the umbilical cord?” the doctor asked, handing Giles a surgical blade. Giles took it in his hand, balancing its weight appreciatively. It was deceptively light and lethal-looking. He looked at Buffy, lying sweaty and exhausted on the bed, then at their baby, still feeding off of Buffy’s blood supply.
Before he could lose his nerve, he plunged the blade hilt-deep into the tiny body, ripping the infant’s flesh apart. The sound it made was horrific—a squealing death cry unlike anything he’d heard before.
Buffy, too, was screaming—sharing the pain their offspring felt as its blood poured over Giles’ hand. The baby grew listless and started to go limp. And as its life force ebbed away, it opened its eyes and looked up at him.
It opened its beautiful blue eyes and accused him.
Giles woke with a shout.
It was a dream…just a dream, he reminded himself. But his heart was still racing and he felt sick to his stomach.
The phone rang, shattering the silence of his bedroom. Giles picked up the phone with trembling hands.
“Giles,” came Buffy’s sobbing voice from the other end.
“Buffy…shh…it was only a dream,” he said.
“This one was the worst,” she sputtered through her tears.
“I know, I know it was.”
“Come to me, Giles. Please? I’m begging you. Please?”
Her pathetic weeping was more than he could stand—it hurt him more than he could bear to hear her in this state. He looked at the clock. 1:30 am.
“Yes. Yes, alright, I’ll come. Meet me at your window in fifteen minutes. But Buffy…I’ll have to leave before your mother wakes up. Agreed?”
“Okay,” she said, sniffling in the aftermath of her tears.
Giles hung up the phone and hurriedly got dressed. They’d lasted four days. Four days of nothing but short phone calls and messages passed through Willow. The dreams had come as a surprise to both of them. The first night, Buffy told Willow about the dream, and she in turn told Giles. They’d had the same dream, but from their own personal perspectives. The next few nights had been the same, and Buffy had called him directly so they could compare notes and comfort each other. But this last dream was different. It was somehow more real…more like a premonition than a dream, and it had them both rattled.
As Giles drove to see Buffy, he knew he was taking a huge risk. And the similarity between this and the last visit he made to Buffy’s room was not lost on him. He fought back a feeling of dread.
When he got around to the back of the house, he saw Buffy leaning out of her window.
“It’s okay,” she said in a stage whisper. “Mom’s out like a light.” She climbed out onto the little balcony and gave him a hand up. When they were safely inside her room, Buffy threw her arms around him and he held her tightly, feeling happier and more at peace than he had all week.
Buffy, too, felt the tension that had been building over the week slipping away. Having his strong arms around her, smelling the familiar, clean scent of him, made her feel instantly safer.
They were both reluctant to let go. Giles relished the way she leaned into him—all that Slayer strength forgotten in her need to be comforted. It felt good to know he could make her feel better. In fact, it felt a little too good.
Giles pulled away when he felt Buffy’s hands reaching up to caress his neck and shoulders.
“Buffy, please don’t,” he said. “Don’t start something we won’t be able to stop.”
“Why not?” she asked bluntly. “I want it, and I’m pretty sure you want it too. And it’s not as if we haven’t done it before—technically, at least.”
“It’s not the same, and you know it. Neither of us had a choice before, but we do now. You know it would be wrong—even if you were older, there’d still be your mother and the council to contend with. They’d say I’d taken advantage of my position as your guardian—and they’d be right.”
Buffy plopped down on the bed, looking somewhat deflated. “I’m not too young anymore, Giles. It’s my birthday today, remember? And I’d be willing to face my mother if you’d be willing to deal with the council. There’s nothing they can do to keep us apart…is there?”
“They could fire me, for a start. They could even have me deported.”
“So what? If they fire you, you’ll still have your job at the library. And if they deport you, I’ll go with you. I’d like to see them deal with the Hellmouth with no Slayer.”
Giles looked at her with one of his ‘you-know-better-than-that’ looks. Buffy sighed and gave in. “Alright, I promise I’ll behave. But it won’t be easy. You know I’ve never been big with self-restraint.” She crawled under the covers and patted the empty spot next to her.
“I mean it, Buffy. Nothing can happen.”
“I’ll be good, I swear,” she said and smiled angelically at him. Giles slipped his shoes off and got into her bed fully clothed. When she snuggled up against him, he knew he was in way over his head. The heat of her body and the sweet scent of her hair were overpowering aphrodisiacs to him. He knew the demon had created this bond between them, but he’d underestimated the strength of it.
He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if things might have been different had he known earlier that the Preot and the Changeling demons were one and the same.
“You’re not sleeping,” said Buffy, lifting her head from off his chest.
“Neither are you,” he observed.
“Is it because of what I said?” she asked. “Because I know I came on pretty strong back there, and if you don’t feel the same way for me I’d understand. I didn’t even stop to consider how you must feel—especially after what the demon made me do to you. No wonder you’re freaked about being with me. How could I possible expect you to feel the way I do?”
“Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know, Giles. I told you how I feel about you, and I practically threw myself at you tonight. So I assume you either don’t love me that way, or you’ve got an incredible amount of willpower.”
Giles laughed quietly. “Well, you’re not making it any easier, I can tell you that much. God, you have no idea how much I want you. I love you very much—so much it frightens me. But I’m your protector, and I have no right to think of you in any other capacity. And, besides…I love you too much to take advantage of you. You only feel this way because the Preot demon is influencing you.”
“Who says I’m being influenced by anything?” said Buffy, raising her voice.
“Shh!” Giles hushed.
She whispered, “I’ll have you know that I fell in love with you long before the Preot demon reared its ugly head. And don’t look so surprised.”
“Well, you have to admit, you never let on,” he said.
“As if I could! And besides, I only really realised it myself when I found out Angelus had kidnapped you. I’ve never felt hate like that before—I wanted Angel dead for what he did to you.”
“You mean Angelus,” Giles corrected.
“No…I meant Angel.” Buffy paused, gathering courage to tell him the secret she’d been hiding for so long. “That night…I never told anyone, but Willow’s spell worked. It was Angel I killed. I knew it had to be done—it was too late to stop it any other way, and I knew I had to be the one to kill him. But what I couldn’t face was that I wanted to kill him. I thought he deserved it for hurting you.”
“Buffy…I had no idea.”
“That’s why I left town. I couldn’t face you, knowing what he’d done to you. What he did to you because of me.” Tears spilled down her face, and she swiped at them distractedly. “And then this Preot demon comes along and I end up hurting you again. I don’t know how you can stand to even look at me.”
Giles wrapped her tightly in his arms and kissed the top of her head.
“Buffy,” he said, softly. “I’ve never blamed you for what Angelus did to me, and I certainly don’t blame you for what the Preot did. God knows you have enough to worry about without adding guilt to the list. I won’t have it, do you hear?”
Buffy responded to his light-hearted rebuff by smiling up at him. The moonlight glinted in her watery eyes and Giles felt his breath catch as their gazes locked. She slid her hand up to his shoulder and pulled herself up his body until they were face to face.
“Buffy…”
“Shh…I just need to know,” she said.
Giles’ heart tripped in his chest when her lips brushed his. Her tongue demanded entrance to his mouth, and he opened himself to her. It was the sweetest kiss he’d ever experienced—at once innocent and passionate. It was beyond his ability to control—he returned the kiss, putting his very soul into it. He was lost. The desires he’d suppressed for so long took possession of him, and as his tongue explored the blissful haven of Buffy’s mouth, his conscience taking a back seat to his overpowering passions.
Buffy finally pulled away. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she knew if she didn’t they’d go too far, and she’d have broken her promise to Giles. She looked deep into his emerald eyes and saw in them a burning desire that matched her own.
“Now I know,” she said. “Thank-you, Giles.” She snuggled back down next to him, her head on his chest. She listened to the heavy beating of his heart, lulled by its reassuring steadiness, and she was soon fast asleep.
Giles, however, thought he might never sleep soundly again. She had no idea the effect she was having on him. She’d left him painfully aroused with no way to alleviate the situation. He could hardly take care of it himself…not with her sleeping peacefully at his side. He stared at the ceiling, trying to force back the intense urges that had bubbled up to the surface.
The night wore on, and as Giles watched the sun rise, Buffy started tossing in her sleep. A frown creased her brow and she began flailing around, murmuring incoherently. Giles tried to hold her still, but she threw him off easily.
“Buffy, wake up,” he said, trying again to control her thrashing limbs. She suddenly sat bolt upright in the bed and screamed his name over and over.
Giles heard the thumping of Joyce’s footsteps coming down the hall. His survival instincts kicked in, and he tried to break away from Buffy to hide under the bed, but Buffy had his arms in a death grip and wouldn’t let go.
Joyce burst into the room, saw Giles struggling with her daughter on the bed and jumped to the obvious conclusion. She advanced on Giles, her hands fisted at her sides and a mother’s protective rage imprinted on her features.
Buffy saw her mother approaching, and immediately snapped out of her nightmare-induced panic. She quickly got between Giles and her mother, using her body as a barrier.
“Mom, it’s not what it looks like,” said Buffy, wiping the tears from her face.
“No?” said Joyce. “It looks like the man who got my daughter pregnant broke into our house and tried to rape you. Am I warm?”
“Mrs. Summers, I assure you…” said Giles.
“Don’t you dare try to defend yourself to me. I warned you to stay away from my daughter, and if I had even a fraction of her power, you’d be dead right now. Well, I may not have Buffy’s strength, but by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll wish you were dead.”
“Mom, please…it’s not his fault,” pleaded Buffy.
“Get out of the way, Buffy,” said Joyce, trying to push past her daughter and getting nowhere.
“No. I’m not going to let you hurt him—he’s done nothing wrong.”
Joyce gaped at her daughter. “Nothing wrong? After what he did to you, how can you possibly take his side? I’m calling the police. If he’s still here by the time they get here…”
“I’m leaving,” said Giles, picking his shoes up off the floor. “I should never have come here, I know that. But I swear to you I would never do anything to hurt Buffy.” He began edging his way out the door, and Buffy held her mother back to allow him to leave.
“If I were you,” said Joyce menacingly, “I’d pack up and leave town. Better yet, leave the country, because if I ever see your face again, you’re a dead man.”
“Mom!” Buffy cried in protest.
“I’m sorry, Buffy,” said Giles, softly, and turned away in defeat, leaving the Summers women alone to face the aftermath.