Someone Else Entirely 4/?

[thdneoncharlie.livejournal.com]

Title: Someone Else Entirely 4/?

Characters: Giles and OC

Rating: T

Setting: Any time within late season five to early season six; before Giles leaves.  

Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine and belongs to its respectful owners. 

Warnings: Nothing to cringe about except a bit of mild swearing.

A/N: Thanks ever so much to my loverly beta gilescandy. Without her, I'd probably be dead or cowering in a corner from trauma. 

Also, this was originally to be posted on my original posting day, but I screwed up. I'm sorry if it made anyone's job any harder than it should be...

Giles took the Demon Slayer to his flat, allowing her to wash up after he offered her a place to sleep in his own bed as he slept on the couch. He left her there and drove back to the scene, giving her some space. He called the authorities, saying he had rounded the corner to see her mutilated body. They let him free after a few questions. 

He opened the door, his flat hushed with the sounds of night. He crept upstairs to grab his pajamas, stopping when he didn't hear the soft inhale and exhale indicating sleep. 

She was still awake.

"I have some tea to help with sleep."

There was a quiet groan of his bed as she sat up.

"I'd like that."

  Flicking on a light switch, he  began to make his way down to his kitchen. He put a kettle on the stove, pulling out two mugs. He carried them to the den, gesturing for her to sit down.  

"I believe the American term is 'What's up?'" he queried gently.

She looked at him.

"That girl. I can't get her out of my head. Especially... Especially her eyes. Those eyes, such a brilliant, lively blue, and I watched them fade into oblivion. It's different than ending a demon. She... She had a soul. And I know that it was self defense but I- I just..." she sighed, buried a head in her hands. "I don't know..."

He put a hand on her shoulder, his eyes softening with the utmost sympathy.

"I know the feeling."

She looked up, her own eyes glittering with unshed tears in an unspoken question.

He chose his words carefully.

"I killed an innocent, one could even go so far to say a friend, for someone I care for very deeply. To this day, and can still feel his breath under my hand, his terrified gaze locked on mine. And yet, I can't regret what I've done. She was so pure and sacrificing. A true hero. I couldn't let her carry that kind of guilt. She's had enough to begin with, and yet she paid the ultimate price in an amazing feat of selflessness..." He sighed. 

"You must really love your Slayer," she whispered in awe. "That kind of commitment is just so delicate and amazing. I'm so sorry she's gone."

He shook his head. 

"She isn't dead anymore, although she may as well be with the emptiness and confusion consuming her."

"Oh?"

He laughed without humor, a very tired sound. 

"Even in death Buffy doesn't get what rest she deserves. She was pulled from the afterlife by an over ambitious Wicca."

Jamie gasped. "Pulled her from the afterlife? That's... insane."

He nodded in agreement.

"And had I been there, I'd have told her that myself. It was dangerous, dark, irrational, currently beyond her skill level, and above all, incredibly selfish."

"That sounds a bit harsh, don't you think? I mean, it sounds as if you really care for her, and what's done is done..."

He sighed wearily in admission.

"I know, but she... She could've died in the process. She could've burnt out or been consumed by the power and energy. She could have died and I wouldn't have been able to save her," he said in slight anguish.

A sharp whistle sounded behind him.

"That's the tea," he said softly. He retreated to his kitchen, wondering how the hell he went from comforting a tortured soul to spilling his own out onto the coffee table. There was something in that other Slayer-- no, not Slayer, woman. There was something in that woman that opened a floodgate of truth and emotion.

On the couch, Jamie made her own reflections. She was in awe of how much of himself Giles devoted to these two girls he seemed to love so much. Who was this man, blending duty with a fatherly-- no, something much more than a paternal commitment. She didn't know how to classify his love. It seemed as if he invested all that he was and expected nothing in return. Even more astounding, he had even opened his own scabs and rendered himself vulnerable to lessen her guilt and anguish when he had only met her that morning. She knew then it was time for the truth of her coming.