Chapter Nine

“Oh, excellent…punch…Buffy,” gasped Giles, trying to keep to his feet rather than retire into a pile of bones at the young slayer’s feet. It was astounding how committed she’d become to her training. Giles was relieved and grateful he still had a slayer under his tutelage, now accepting his advice and his strenuous program for improving her slaying skills. They could so easily have lost her.

Not that she’d been anything but distant since the attack.

The Watcher sighed, removed his glasses and nodded to his protégé that enough was enough for today. “I fear I’m rather covered in bruises, my dear.” He was reluctant to admit his ego was damaged to that extent, even if Buffy was meant to have powers mere mortal men couldn’t stand against. He wasn’t young anymore, and so training with a woman of superhuman strength—and one who seemed to be barely shielding herself from some kind of grieving process—was more than his flesh could stand.


“Should I head out for patrol then?” she asked robotically, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

Giles observed her with growing unease. Not once did she look at him as she unwrapped her fists, not one glance to see why he stalled with his answer. His slayer was on automatic and she point blank refused to discuss it with him—or with her friends. He wasn’t a stupid man; Giles knew something important had occurred the two nights Buffy was missing, but other than knowing Angel had stabbed her in the back with her own implement of destruction, he was very much in the dark.

“Buffy, I realise you don’t want to discuss the attack, and I don’t want to press you on it, but I really think it is doing you no good to keep it all locked up inside.”

The teenager’s shoulders quivered and Giles thought that he finally might be making headway with the girl. Might finally uncover the reason behind what had brought her to the point of becoming such a rigid soldier as she fought back the darkness.

But he was wrong. Buffy regained her composure, stood up straighter and headed to her bag to pull on some sweats and locate a stake. She tossed it experimentally in her hand, nervously, until she grasped it with a solid hand, gripping it tight enough to make even Giles wince.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Giles.” She said nothing more as she gathered herself together and walked with determination from the library.

As soon as she’d passed through the halls, though, her head dropped and Buffy struggled to hold back the tears that always wanted freedom. She had to stop this…this grieving for a vampire. It was so wrong, and even though she was struggling with her heart, her head knew the facts and clashed violently with any craving she might have had to hear Spike’s distinct accent again.

It wasn’t going to happen, and she really should have been glad. She was fighting toward such a point, but the going was slow and frustrating. Since Spike had left, Buffy hadn’t been able to control her wildly swinging moods. She’d become deeply introspective, only coming out on those occasions where she permitted Giles to train her in the ways all slayers had apparently been trained. Being around her friends was impossible, and Buffy flinched as she heard Willow and Xander approach her from the other end of the corridor.

“Look, Wills. I’m guessing the Buffster is heading out on patrol. You think she might make any eye contact as we walk past?” Xander, being but a boy, was unable to hold back the bitterness he felt at being shut out of Buffy’s life after becoming accustomed to being very much a part of it. The subtleties of the last few weeks were beyond him and no amount of shushing from Willow was able to crack through his resentment and confusion to make him hold his tongue.

Guilt dragged her down even more and Buffy was unable to prevent her feet from dragging and then stopping all together when she was in front of her friends. When she looked up, she did more than make eye contact—with Willow. Xander was completely ignored as Buffy pleaded silently with Willow to join her tonight, and the redhead immediately agreed.

“Oh. OH!” With wide eyes of understanding, Willow turned to her male friend and hoped he’d get the reason behind the brush off. “Xander, I think Giles would like some company tonight to, you know, sort books or something.” Willow beamed at the watery smile of relief from Buffy, even as Xander’s brows hit his hairline.

“Books? Oh sure, like the G-man would welcome me near his precious bound papery objects.” But he took enough of the hint to vamoose, leaving Buffy and Willow facing each other, awkward and alone in the hall.

“Thank you,” Buffy managed to croak out, her voice feeling raw in her throat through the tears she didn’t want to shed.

“Think nothing of it,” Willow said with a smile, brushing off Buffy’s discomfort while threading her arm through the Slayer’s. Their heels clicked against tiles as they disappeared out of the school and into the first whispers of night.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Xander stalked past an oblivious Giles and plopped down at one of the numerous spare seats at the central table, plucked a random book off the surface and proceeded to make annoying sounds from deep in his throat. Giles spun around from where he stood at the library counter, his book of prophecies open and his annoyance clear.

“Would you please refrain from making that hideous noise while you loiter around me?” Though fashioned as a question, Giles felt quite certain that, in his present mood, he’d bite the boy’s head off if he so much as repudiated his demand.

Unusually insightful, Xander held up his hands in defeat and fell silent. For exactly one minute.

“The Buffster went out patrolling with Willow.”

After the initial—yet obviously false—promise of glorious peace and quiet, Giles nearly jumped out of his skin. Not only had he almost forgotten the teen still sat at his table, but he’d found the declaration more than a little unexpected.

“That’s…that’s…”Giles stumbled, looking for the precise adjective that would describe his relief at this event. “Good, actually.”

Xander’s brows raised a fraction, showing his amusement at the understatement.

“Think our Wills might get some kind of confession?”

The exhausted and battered watcher expelled a harsh breath and flopped in a chair opposite Xander, revealing for the first time how very concerned he was about his slayer.

“I bloody hope so.” The crudeness didn’t seem the least out of place while both males sat and commiserated over their lost Buffy, wanting desperately for the return of the carefree, quipping girl.

“Perhaps our contribution tonight should be to locate Angel?” Giles suggested. While he didn’t feel the slightest desire to seek out the unrepentant vampire for any reason other than to stake him, Angel’s disappearing act tugged at some sense of worry that all was not about to return to normal.

“Load me up with weapons and it’s a ‘can do, will do’ mission.” Xander stood, murder bright in his brown eyes. Giles was momentarily startled, until he realised that the boy was merely reflecting what existed in his own bitter expression.

“We have no real clue what is going on with Angel,” he felt the need to warn, and Xander just jerked his shoulders as if to say it didn’t really matter. He felt inordinately proud of the boy, despite the frisson of fear that served as his own warning. They had no real reason to fear Angel, but for some reason Giles was concerned that their normal playing field had been forever altered.

“He’s been missing for more than a week now,” Xander reminded, reluctant to lose the chance to hunt Angel down like the rodent he fully believed the vampire to be. “What makes you think he’s even still in town?”

Giles wasn’t sure why, exactly, but he was willing to bet his life on the likelihood that Angel wouldn’t have left Buffy completely behind. He had no idea what was going on but, good or bad, he was convinced the vampire still lurked behind a corner somewhere in Sunnydale.

“Let’s just say I have a hunch and leave it at that, shall we?”

Another one of Xander’s accepting shrugs and they were free to load up with weapons and head out. Giles took one last glance at his library and felt nostalgic. He had no way of knowing if he would return—if finding Angel would equal his last days on this earth, but there was something deep inside of him that made him desperate to locate the demon and put an end to his interference. Something deeper than his commitment to Buffy’s mission. With his own nod to himself, Giles followed Xander out.