VIII
Reflexes were wonderful things. They enabled Giles to go from a deep sleep to full wakefulness at the first scream, and halfway down the stairs by the second one. He grabbed the walking stick propped in the corner of the hall as he dashed into Buffy's bedroom.
She was sitting bolt upright in bed, and as he punched the light switch, she screamed again and scrambled into a defensive crouch against the headboard. Her eyes were wild and terrified.
"Buffy-"
"Go ahead and kill me..." she gasped.
"What...?" He approached the bed.
"...Before I kill you."
Giles froze in mid-step. She stared directly at him, but seemed not to actually be seeing him.
"Buffy, you were dreaming," he soothed, moving slowly to set the walking stick down. He approached the bed and she shrank away, hissing.
"Get out or I'll kill you!" she cried, more in sorrow than anger.
"It's all right, you had a dream. No one is going to harm you."
"No, I have to...."
"Yes," he interrupted. "A dream. A nightmare. But it's over now."
She stared at him, the first glimmerings of doubt crossing her small features. Slowly, she brought a hand to her face, feeling for what she must have believed would be there. As realization dawned, reality returned and Buffy collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She slid down the headboard and curled in on herself as she dissolved into tears.
This time when Giles moved toward her, there was no protest, nor none when he gathered her into his arms and held her against her bitter weeping.
"Shh, it's all right," he whispered, "it's over, you're safe. Shh."
"Oh, God," she sobbed. "Oh, God...."
"Shh, shh." He rocked with her, stroking her hair.
Suddenly, she sat up with a gasp. "Oh God, Giles! What if it's true?"
"It was just a dream, Buffy," he soothed.
"Dreams come true, sometimes! Especially my dreams."
"You're not a vampire, if that's what's worrying you," he said, surmising from her reaction that that had been the substance of her nightmare.
"Not that, the rest. Angel, he...I wasn't there. And he...he...the others. He got the others. And...and...I wasn't there...to stop him. And...and..." she gulped.
"And then he caught you and turned you into a vampire," Giles guessed. "But it didn't happen."
"But the rest of it might have," she insisted. "And I'm not there to stop him. Oh, God...." She grabbed Giles's arms, wild-eyed. "I have to go home. I have to see...."
"Shh, easy, Buffy," he steadied her gently. "We can call them if you'd like. There are such things as telephones in England, you know."
"But not here."
"No, but we'll find one. If calling them will put your mind at ease, then that's what we'll do."
She gazed at him with huge, tear-filled eyes. "You sure?"
"Of course. Just put your coat over your pajamas."
Buffy sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "It's the middle of the night," she said softly. "Where can we find a phone?"
"There are public phones at the post office."
"Will it be open?"
"The phones are always accessible. Now you put your shoes on and I'll be right back." He squeezed her shoulder and hurried upstairs to find his own shoes. When he got back downstairs, Buffy was standing in the hall, hunched into her coat.
"If everybody's all right I'm gonna feel pretty stupid," she mumbled, letting him lead her to the car.
"No you won't, Giles said, "you'll feel relieved."
She sniffed. "What time is it there, anyway?"
He glanced at his watch and did the quick subtraction. "Um, around 7:30."
Buffy simply acknowledged that fact with a nod and got into the car, slumped miserably against the door. They drove in silence into town and pulled up in front of the post office. Unsurprisingly, they were the only ones there.
Giles led Buffy into the red kiosk, sliding in behind her. He picked up the receiver and entered his credit card number, followed by the international access code. Then he handed her the receiver. "You can dial now, whomever you wish."
She nodded and punched in a number he recognized to be Willow's.
"Please be there," she whispered, chanting. "Please be there, please be...Willow? Hi, it's me. Is everyone all right? What? No, I...I just got a feeling, so I wanted to check and see if.... Oh. Oh, well that's good. Yeah."
Giles smiled, reassured that all was well on the home front. He squeezed Buffy's shoulder, preparing to ease out of the booth and give her some privacy, but she grabbed hold of his wrist and wouldn't let go.
She was still talking. "No, I'm.... What? Um, I don't know, the middle of the night some time. No, well see, there's no phone at the house-oh, Will, you've gotta see Giles's house. It's a cottage, with a straw roof and everything! Yeah. What? No, we're standing on a street corner in our pajamas, if you can believe that. Yeah." She laughed. "Is...is Xander okay? Yeah. What about my mom? Oh. Oh, yeah, that's right. Well, did she call? Oh, good. Thanks. No, I'm okay, it's just...it's been kind of weird. Yeah, yesterday. When we got in, and he spent all day yesterday with him. I will."
Buffy lowered the phone. "Willow says she's sorry about your father."
Giles smiled. "Tell her thank you."
"Here," Buffy spoke into the phone again, "why don't you talk to him yourself?" She handed him the receiver. He had to squeeze even farther into the booth in order to talk comfortably, and he wound up with Buffy tucked firmly against his side, his arm around her shoulders where he held her securely. She put an arm around his waist and rested her head against his chest.
"Hello, Willow," he said.
"Hi, Giles. I'm sorry about your father."
"Thank you."
"Did he know you were there?"
"Yes, and he met Buffy, too."
"Good." There was a pause. "Giles, what's going on? Is Buffy all right?"
He smiled. Of course Willow wouldn't be fooled by Buffy's casual, "I just had a feeling" comment. But he said, "Yes, we're both fine." He tightened his arm around Buffy, his hand stroking lightly up and down her arm. "Had a bit of a bad dream, but we're all right now. Better with knowing that everything's all right at home."
"Good," Willow said. "We're all fine here, nothing new and exciting, or scary, or anything. Just...kind of normal."
"Well, that's good."
"Are you still coming home on Thursday?" she asked.
"Buffy will, definitely," he said. "If all goes as planned, so will I. But I haven't been able to make all the arrangements yet, so we'll have to see."
"Anything I can do to help?"
"Yes, be careful and keep your head down. We don't want to take any unnecessary chances."
"I will," she said. "Well, um, take care. And take care of Buffy."
"Of course. Here, let me put her back on. We'll see you when we get back."
"Okay, 'bye." He handed the receiver back to Buffy, who stayed tucked in his arms while she talked.
"Me again," she began. "Did Giles tell you we went to Oxford today? Or is that yesterday? Whatever. Anyway, it was really cool, you'd love it. There was this gift shop in the library, this great big library I can't remember the name of-Bodacious or something...."
"Bodleian," Giles corrected with a smile. He could just imagine his professors reactions at hearing their beloved Bodleian referred to as "the Bodacious Library".
"Yeah, that," Buffy said, and Giles realized Willow had corrected her, too. "Anyway, I got you something at the gift shop. I hope you like it." She lowered the receiver again, looking back at him. "Willow says she's jealous." He smiled again, picturing Willow's reaction.
"Listen, Will, I gotta go. It's the middle of the night and we're freezing here. It's really cold, like winter. I had to buy a sweatshirt so I didn't freeze at night, and the house is heated with this giant stove and coal. It's so cool. No, actually, it's cold, really cold. Anyway.... I wish there was a phone at the house, I'd call every night. Nah. Yeah, I think so. Okay. And say hi to everybody for me. And if you see my mom, hide! Okay, g'night. 'Bye."
Almost reluctantly, Buffy hung up the phone. She looked at Giles. "Everybody's okay," she said in a small voice.
"Good," he said. "I'm glad. Ready to go?"
She nodded and he moved out of the booth, bringing her with him. She was silent during the drive back, and it was obvious that though she was no longer terrified, the dream still disturbed her. When they got home, she went into the parlour and sat hunched into the corner of the sofa, still huddled in her coat. He watched her for a moment, saw the fear, the sadness.
"Not going back to bed?" he asked gently.
She just shook her head. "I couldn't."
She was afraid of the nightmare coming back. He couldn't blame her. I'm going to put the kettle on. Do you want some tea?"
She didn't look at him, but nodded, and with a last glance at her dejected figure, he headed into the kitchen.
When he came back a few minutes later, cups of tea in his hands, she had shrugged out of her coat, but sat shivering with equal parts chill and reaction. He handed her the tea and sat next to her, tugging the old knitted afghan off the back of the sofa and draping it over her shoulders.
She moved slightly, so subtly he almost missed it. But she gradually leaned against him as she cupped both hands around her hot cup. He kept his arm around her shoulders as he sipped his own tea. He wished he could hold her in his arms, protected against the fears and the terrors which filled her young life. But he knew that no matter how tightly he held on, she was the slayer. She would never be free of the evil and the horror. Not until it finally destroyed her.
She sniffed and set her cup down. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"What for? For wanting to check on your friends? That's nothing to apologize for."
"For freaking."
"You had a dream which frightened you. Given the things which have happened recently, it's not surprising you're having difficulties. I'd hoped bringing you here would give you a respite, but our vampire friend tonight seemed to have other plans."
"It wasn't just him. At least, I don't think so. I mean," she swallowed, "he really wasn't any different from any other vamp. Well, maybe a little bigger. But between him and that stuff about Mrs. Peavey's daughter, and...."
He sat up straight, the blood rushing to his stomach. "You know about Elizabeth?"
Buffy blinked up at him. "You said I could ask." Her voice was small, uncertain.
"When?"
"Yesterday, when she took me shopping."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I was going to. That's why I went to the nursing home yesterday afternoon, to talk to you, about that and the slayer's diaries. But...."
"Slayer's diaries!" The lump in Giles's stomach solidified.
"I...I found them, when I was cleaning up yesterday. And I figured they're what your father was talking about. I..I hadn't meant to read them, but...."
"Oh, Buffy, you should have told me," he gasped, thinking about her going through those books by herself, the things they revealed.
"I wanted to, but once I got to the nursing home, well...I kind of forgot, what with everything else."
"Oh, Buffy," he said again, cupping the side of her face with his hand. "I'm so sorry."
She frowned. "Sorry? What for?"
"You should have told me. You are the slayer, your needs must always come first."
"Not when your father's lying there dead," she denied vehemently, her words harsher than perhaps she'd intended. "Sometimes you have to be human first, and a watcher second."
He didn't know what to say. He'd intended to comfort her, but somehow it wound up being the other way around. "I wish I had known," he said instead. "You shouldn't have had to go through that alone."
She shrugged. "I guess it all freaked me more than I realized."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. You know now." Her voice was soft again. She sounded so young.
He brushed her hair away from her face. "Did you want to talk about it? Do you have any questions?"
"I did. When I first read them. But now I can't remember. And I really don't want to look at them again to remind myself."
He nodded, smoothing her hair, and she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. They were silent for a time, sitting together. Buffy snuggled closer and he held her securely, a little surprised by her continued neediness. Most of the time she was so strong, so brave, one forgot her youth, her vulnerability. She was still just a child, for all her skill and experience.
"Giles?" Buffy's voice was small.
"Yes?"
"Will you do something for me?"
"Of course."
"When something happens to me...."
"Buffy...."
"No, we both know what will happen, eventually. Even if I hadn't figured it out before, those diaries would have told me. But when something finally happens.... I..I don't want the watchers to get my diary."
Giles went cold. It was the thing he least wanted to talk about, what would happen after. He simply couldn't contemplate that time, when she would be taken from him, when she would no longer be a part of his life.
"I..I'll see it's destroyed," he promised.
"It...it's okay if you see it," she said softly. "I wouldn't mind that. But I...I don't want the watchers to get it. I couldn't stand the thought of all these weird old men reading my diary. I don't even want other slayers to see it. It's too private."
He placed a gentle finger under her chin, tipping her head up to look at him. The imploring expression in her eyes, the tears she couldn't hide.... How could he ever deny her anything? "I promise. No one shall ever read your diary."
"Thanks," she sighed and settled her head against his shoulder again.
He wanted to tell her that it wasn't anything she needed to worry about, that it wouldn't ever come to that. But he wouldn't lie to her. She was too intelligent for fairy stories and he respected her too much to try. So he sat there, holding her in his arms, hoping against hope that she would be with him a long, long time. But knowing, in that part of his heart he seldom examined, that she probably wouldn't.
Eventually, he realized she'd fallen asleep. He was touched. The girl who'd been too frightened to go to bed for fear of nightmares felt safe enough n his arms to relax and let go.
He smiled, thinking that it was yet one more way he could prove that he was "doing it right". She trusted him, trusted him completely. He was honored by her faith in him, only hoping he was equal to it.
He stroked a hand over her tangled hair. He would have just let her sleep here like this, except that he wanted to get some sleep himself and knew if he tried to sleep sitting on the couch, he'd be very sorry in the morning.
So he gently nudged her awake. "Buffy? Let's get you to bed."
Buffy mumbled a protest and snuggled closer to his chest.
"No, come on, you'll sleep better in bed."
"Mmm," she moaned, but allowed him to help her up. He didn't think she even bothered to open her eyes, simply let him lead her to the bedroom where she obediently crawled beneath the covers and fell back asleep almost immediately. He smiled as he pulled the blanket up over her, tucking it in gently. She was strong, she was brave, she was clever.... But she was also only seventeen, and barely seventeen at that. She was at that interesting, intriguing, maddening age suspended between girl and woman, swinging almost breath by breath from one to the other. She drove him crazy. Almost as often as she kept him awed.
Right now she was all little girl, curled up in the big bed, sound asleep. He smoothed her hair and bent to kiss her forehead. "Sleep well, my sweet," he whispered.
Then he turned off the light and closed the door.