Title: Full Of Love 5/10
Author: Gileswench
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind which you really don't want. Please don't sue.

"Come on, Will, please don't cry," Xander begged as he pulled her into his arms. "You'll make me cry, and then I'd be forced to shoot you so nobody ever finds out what a sissyguy I am. And then what would I do without my bestest bud?"

"T-twenty-five to life?" she choked out. "And...and you couldn't even use the broken yellow crayon defense."

"Yeah, it's a shame I didn't save all my Twinkie wrappers all these years."

"That didn't work. Maybe you should have saved the HoHo ones."

The pair chuckled soggily and kept hugging one another. For a long time, they just sat together in silence, drawing comfort from their connection. At last, Xander spoke.

"What happened to us, Will?"

"Just now? Or are we talking something more long-termy?"

"I know a lot's happened in the last couple years, but I can't believe what some of it is. How did we ever get the idea in the first place that bringing Buffy back would be easy and all about sunshine and daisies? We know more about magic than that."

"Yeah," Willow agreed slowly. "And then, what made us think if we never said we were sorry and we were never around, she'd be okay?"

"And the whole thing with Anya. I wasn't sure for months before our not-quite-big-day. Why didn't I just sit down and talk with her? One way or another, it would have saved a lot of misery for both of us, and possibly a bunch of money."

"I think that was more ordinary Xander stupidity," she told him. She rubbed his arm gently to ease the sting of her blunt pronouncement. "You do have sort of a way of letting things slide when you don't want to deal and it looks like it might work out on its own. Me getting out of control with the whole magic deal, though, that's just all wrong. I know better. I knew better a long time ago."

"Yeah, but you do sorta always have this way of having to convince the world you can handle stuff, even when there's a lot of you that knows you can't. That was just defensive Willow arrogance."

"Okay, maybe you've got a point. A little tiny one, but still sort of a point," she grumbled. "But what about Tara? When Joyce died, and Dawn wanted to bring her back, Tara didn't even want to let Dawnie know resurrection spells existed, because they're so dangerous and never work. Then, a few months later, she doesn't even make a peep like it'd be a bad idea to raise Buffy? That doesn't make any kind of sense."

"And Tara was all about the good sense," he said. "And what about Giles? He's got a brain the size of a planet, and he just walks out on Buffy when she's all recently resurrected and her friends are avoiding her because they feel guilty about bringing her back? Anyone could see she was ready to just hop right back into that grave."

"Yeah. After all the times Giles was the only person who could get through to her, and all the times he wanted her to depend on him more...he just went away. He was the only person who could have stopped half of the dumb things we did last year, and he just walked out on us. And if there's anyone we know who ought to know what sort of trouble a bunch of stupid, depressed, twenty-one-year-olds with no smart people watching out for them can get into, it's him."

"He has sorta been there, done that, bought the baggy sweater, hasn't he?"

Willow sat up and shrugged Xander's arms off her.

"I have an idea forming in my brain," she said.

"If it's the one where this First Evil manipulation has been going on longer than we thought, I'm right with you."

*****

Giles sighed and turned off the television - again. Two in the morning, and he still couldn't sleep, still couldn't find anything to watch, couldn't turn off his brain. He didn't like where his mind kept going, and felt sure Buffy wouldn't listen to him if he tried to share his thoughts. He pulled off his glasses and laid them on the nightstand - again. He laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

So many bizarre decisions had been made in the course of the past couple years. Some, obviously, could be chalked up to normal human fallibility. Others were harder to explain - even simply out of character for the people involved. Why on Earth would Tara and Anya have agreed to a resurrection spell? They were the only ones who understood exactly how dangerous an idea it was. Why would Buffy have turned from her friends and had an affair with Spike, of all...well, not people, since he wasn't one. Creatures? He wasn't quite sure how to end the question, aside from an expression of disbelief. And speaking of Spike, what had convinced him he was in love with Buffy in the first place? Why had he gotten a soul? And once he did, what made him come back and continue to treat Buffy so poorly and then emotionally blackmail her with this supposed soul of his?

He had to admit that even his own behavior wasn't exempt from scrutiny.

What had made him think Buffy was in any shape to be left alone like that? She had no job, no education, no parents, no money, too many responsibilities, and no hope. He knew what much of that was like from personal experience. At twenty-one he'd been broke, unemployable, and rebellious. He'd even been hopeless and briefly suicidal after Randall's death. If anyone could have got through to Buffy and made her whole again, it ought to have been him. There were so many better ways he could have handled the situation rather than leaving. He could have asked the Council for help. An ordinary psychologist would have locked Buffy up if she'd said what was wrong with her, but the Council had other resourses - *had* had other resources. When there was a Council.

And yet, he'd walked away from her and never told the Council where she'd spent the summer. Why was that?

His depressing reverie was interrupted by a tentative knock on the door.

"Giles?" Buffy whispered. "Are you still awake?"

He threw off the covers and padded over to the door. He opened it a crack and peered out.

"What are you doing still up?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "No vamps or Bringers or anything like that. I just...I couldn't sleep. Seems I'm not so good at being alone these days, after all. My head won't shut up."

He smiled down at her. She looked lovely in the pale blue nightgown, despite the black leather jacket slung over it in lieu of a robe. He was about to move back and open the door further when he realized he was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.

"Well...Buffy, it's late, you know. Couldn't this wait until morning?"

"It is morning. It's been morning for two hours. If I don't hear someone else in the room breathing, I don't think I'm gonna get much sleep, and then what do you think everyone will think we were doing all night?"

"Are you suggesting we sleep togther so nobody will think we slept together? Is that it?"

"No. I'm suggesting if we sleep together we might actually sleep and then they won't think we had sex together. Plus, if we talk about the new theory I have, maybe we can convince them we really went out for dinner and a council of war."

So the whole thing had been a joke. He scowled at her.

"And goodness knows my privates are only good for pissing with," he muttered under his breath.

"Eiww. That was really gross, Giles. Did you have to say that about peeing? Open the door and let me in, will you?"

"Hang on a moment," he sighed, "and I'll put something on."

"What? You're naked in there?"

"Not entirely. And while we're on the subject what would be so shocking if I were? For all you know, I might sleep that way every night."

"Well so could I, but someone here assumed I needed a nightgown," she snapped. She made a small, frustrated sound. "Look, just get decent and let me in, okay? We need to talk."

"You'd already be inside if you hadn't stopped to make a fuss about what I do or don't wear to bed."

"No fussing going on," she said. "I'm completely fuss-free. Now hurry up. It's drafty out here."

He shut the door and went to put on his shirt and trousers. A wave of frustration surged through him. A part of him, he realized, had been hoping Buffy would come to him in the night. Now, here she was and it was about insomnia and business. He left his shirt only half buttoned, returned to the door, and opened it, allowing her silently in.

"Took you long enough," she grumbled as she slipped through the doorway. "At least you didn't shove a cross in my face. Though it wasn't very smart that you didn't check and make sure I'm not a vamp. They don't need invites to hotels, do they?"

"Not to get in the building, but they do to get in rented rooms, I believe. Now what's all this about a new theory?"

He seated himself at the desk and tried not to think about the way the light filtered through Buffy's nightgown, half revealing her shapely legs.

"Do you mind...?" she gestured vaguely toward the bed. "And do you have to sit all the way over there?"

"For the moment, if we're to discuss this groundbreaking theory of yours, yes."

"Well, is it okay if I warm up under the covers? Somebody went nuts with the air conditioning in this place."

"Be my guest."

She shrugged off the jacket and Giles found himself swallowing hard. The fabric of her nightgown was thin and more sheer than he'd realized when he bought it. If he concentrated, he felt sure he'd be able to tell whether she had any underpants on. Instead, he turned his attention to rummaging in the desk drawer for the inevitable pad of notepaper emblazoned with the hotel logo. He located it, then took his time testing the traditional hotel pen to see if - contrary to all experience - it worked. By some miracle, it did. When he turned to face Buffy again, she was under the covers and wearing a bemused smile.

"Are we ready now?" she asked humorously. "I don't really think you're going to have to take notes on this. It's pretty simple. And probably kinda nuts."

"Let me be the judge of that," he said. "Now, what is it you think you've come up with?"

"First Evil."

"Yes...? What about it?"

"How long do you think it's been playing us?"

"Well, we began seeing signs sometime early in the autumn, as I recall..."

"No, Giles." She shook her head and shot him a disgusted look. "Not 'how long have we known'; how long has it been playing us? How long have we been puppets on his string?"

He set down the pen and laughed mirthlessly as he rubbed his chin. Buffy looked wounded.

"I know I said it was crazy, but did you have to agree before you even hear the whole theory?" she asked.

"No, no, it's not that," he said. "More a case of...well, let's just say it's been a while since we've come to the same conclusion so quickly."

"Really?" She perked up instantly. "You thought the same thing as me? So, are you the crazy one, or is it still me?"

"Probably both of us."

"See, I figured that eyeball thingy you and Anya talked to said this was all about me being back, and then I got thinking about how I was back. I mean, I could kinda see Will deciding she wanted me here and deciding she could do it, so she should, and I could totally see Xand playing follow the leader on that, but Tara? And Anya? Tara's the one who tried to stop Dawn trying to bring Mom back, and Anya's been around the block a few million times and she knows what resurrection spells can do. Besides, she never liked me that much. I mean, we get along okay, I guess, but we were never really big fans of each others' work. So, I'm kinda guessing the big bad needs me here, and it pulled some cosmic strings to get me back. And that's why it's going after everyone else. It's messed with my head, but you'd think the first thing the First Evil would do is get rid of the Slayer. You know, the one whose been on the job for eight years and had two big death scenes to save the world?"

"And yet it hasn't moved directly against you or - to the best of our knowledge - Faith."

"God. I didn't even think of her. And she's sort of a sitting duck in prison, isn't she? Maybe somebody should warn her."

Giles stood and began to pace the room.

"Why would the First leave you unharmed?" he asked. "I don't understand it. If you were gone, and Faith was still alive but imprisoned, there would be no active Slayer to get in the way of its plans. Why bring you back at all?"

"Gee, thanks."

"You know I'm delighted to have you here. I simply don't understand why something so evil would want you. You're a force for good."

"And yet, I did some really not-good things last year. And I've kept them right up this year."

"You're hardly alone in that. It may take years to know which of your actions were truly yours, and which were manipulated by the First."

"If I can duck responsibility on even a couple, it'll be a relief."

Yes, well, I feel much the same way."

They shared an ironic smile, then Giles returned to his pacing. Buffy frowned.

"So...it needs me for some reason, but it's scared of me, too. And it needs you and it's scared of you."

"Me?" He stopped in his tracks. "What does it need with me?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, "but it does. If it didn't, I don't think you'd be here."

"I told you, that thing tried to kill me. I only survived because its shoes squeaked."

"And that's way sloppy, which we know these guys aren't. You should be dead. Just like me. I mean, they can hunt and fight without any eyes. They've killed off nobody can even guess how many Potentials and Watchers, and I don't have an easy time bringing the Bringers down. Not to doubt your fighting, 'cause I've seen you do some real damage to the baddies in a tight spot, but you shouldn't have been able to win. It let you live. There has to be a reason for that."

"And one assumes it's because the First knew I'd return to Sunnydale and you."

"Where I'd be playing house with your favorite undead party guy, Spike."

"Whereupon I would make a complete ass of myself out of jealousy and fear, and alienate you. Yes, I think I'm getting the picture now." He sat on the edge of the bed with a thump. "So...what you're saying is that the First needs us both in the same place...but with...an emotional gulf we can't bridge. Is that it?"

"Well, I was gonna go with 'in the same zip code but completely out of touch'. Pretty much the same thing, yeah."

"I suppose that means that together...truly together..."

"We can beat 'em. I'm thinking that's about the size of it."

"Why the hell did it take us so long to think of this?"

"Duh! We were being puppets, remember? I really hate those things. Always have. So, I guess in order to save the world, we need to kiss and make up."

"It's a sacrifice," he said with an exaggerated sigh, "but if I must..."

"Oh, you must, you must."

"How literal would you like this kiss to be?"

She blushed slightly, but smiled.

"Very, if it's not too much trouble."

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