Tribulations - Chapter 15

"Slainte," said a not-exactly-English voice right beside her.

Buffy couldn't stop herself from jumping. The voice belonged to another girl, and the other girl had gotten right up into her personal space without her even knowing. "Huh?" she said, feeling intelligent yet again.

"It's a toast." The girl took a long pull from what looked like a bottle of beer. She offered a second bottle to Buffy, but Buffy shook her head.

"I don't like beer."

"Good choice," the girl told her. "We're always made to offer somethin', you know. Doesn't mean you have to take it. Load a' cobblers if you ask me, but rules are rules, Buffy." She bent forward, whispering, "Never, ever take it."

"Why not?" Buffy asked, then realized that the stranger had used her name. "You know me?"

"You take it, you drink from it, you don't get to go back." She gave Buffy an apologetic look. "Nothin' personal, honest. We're almost sisters, if you look at it a certain way."

Buffy stared at her. The girl was tall, about Celeste's or Cordelia's height, but über-muscular, like one of those fitness-magazine women--and since she was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, it showed. Her hair was black and curly-wild, and her black, black lashes and eyebrows made her blue eyes even bluer--bright blue, the exact color of the big chunk of rock that Giles had used to hypnotize her with, back on her eighteenth birthday.

The girl laughed. "Nah, not a blood-sister, Buffy. I was dead a long time before you came along. More the way you 'n' Faith was sisters. Were sisters. Were. Hank would get after me for that. He always wants me to talk proper, like a lady. I ain't no lady, though. Don't think ladies do the sort o' work we were made for."

"I'm a lady," Buffy said, laughing even as she said it. "Okay, maybe not really. Hank my dad?" she added.

"Hank my Watcher. He hates me to call him that. Henry. Mr. Giles."

"He was a vampire."

"I know." The girl wiped her hand on the leg of her denim shorts. "I made him one." She stuck the hand out for Buffy to shake. "Augustina."

"Oh." Buffy' touched the girl's hand, but it just felt normal. "How...?"

"I took out the next couple Slayers, but the third one got me. Never saw her comin'." Augustina sat down on the hillside, her arms wrapped around her muscular legs. "Never felt a thing. Funny, really, me knowin' that."

"I'm sorry," Buffy said, and sat down beside Augustina, tucking her legs beneath herself. She had on her blue-checked dress with the daisies, Buffy realized--the one she'd worn to meet the museum people, and Giles's aunts.

"I felt sorry about Henry," Augustina told her. "He weren't a bad bloke. Of course it broke me up, our Rupert havin' to do for his dad 'n' all."

"It was hard for him," Buffy told her. "But it's not your fault."

"You always think maybe you can control the demon, but you can't. You have your brain and your memories, but you haven't your guts. The real you's gone away." She rested her chin on her knees, thinking. "I loved that tyke. He'd get scared--only natural, him bein' a just a little 'un--but not a bloody thing on earth would make him back down. I wish--" Augustina shook her head. "I only wish, and that 'n' a fiver will get you your dinner. We were only eight years apart," she added, "Our ages, y'see."

Buffy didn't see, at first, but then she thought a little more and did. Augustina had wanted to stay alive, she'd wanted Giles to grow up, and she'd wanted the two of them to be together--but only the second one of those things had happened, and the other Slayer hadn't been around to see it.

Augustina was nodding. "You sussed it out."

"Which means?"

"You got it. You understood." She reached out to touch Buffy's hair, brushing it back from her face. "You're so pretty. He likes that, does he?"

"He loves me."

"He loves you." The other Slayer kept staring at her, but finally she looked like she'd come to a decision. "Shouldn't tell, really, but here's what you need to do." Augustina bent in close, her breath warm on Buffy's ear. She said a bunch of words, but Buffy didn't understand them.

"I couldn't hear you," she protested, knowing somehow that what Augustina told her was important, that it was the only way she had to get out of the mess she was in.

"You will, when it's time." Augustina didn't sound too concerned, but Buffy cursed inwardly--she hated that cryptic message crap!

"The other shite, that they sent me for, you don't really need to know. Just be careful, right? Be careful and keep your head, like always. And run now, Buffy, before the door blows away!"

The wind had started to pick up, Buffy noticed, ruffling her skirt and making the whispery grass louder and louder. Augustina didn't seem concerned about that either, but Buffy leaped to her feet and started racing for the doorway. It appeared to get farther and farther away with every step she took, but finally, with a desperate lunge, she grabbed hold of the knob and hauled open the door, falling for a long time before she jerked awake in the half-familiar bed.

She'd pulled away from Giles in her sleep, and dragged most of the covers off him too. He lay face down, one of the big pillows hugged to his chest as if he thought he was holding her instead. Buffy snuggled up beside him, running her fingertips over the now-smooth skin of his back. Was it better for him for those scars to be gone, she wondered, or worse? Better, maybe, to not have those reminders, but worse in the way of still having to deal with the memories, but not having concrete proof that they'd ever really happened. That must make the whole thing seem almost unreal, as if it had never been, as if you were going crazy, or had been crazy, or something.

Buffy wondered about herself, too--had she really believed, at one time, that what he'd been through hadn't been so bad? That it was just a couple broken fingers? She remembered telling herself that people did worse than that every day, playing sports. She'd been to see Kendra's body, and dropped by the hospital to check on Willow. She'd gone to her mom's and to Giles's apartment, as if he'd just be sitting there drinking tea with all the other stuff going on, then gone back to the library. To have spared him an hour, half an hour, even ten minutes worth of torture would have been worthwhile, wouldn't it? What had he said to her, in the vision of the future that the Hellmouth had shown her? That he'd known she could be thoughtless and careless, but not deliberately cruel.

Hadn't she been deliberately cruel, when she'd left him in Angelus's power even a second longer than she had to? What had she been doing, punishing him for her life? Punishing him because the world wasn't the way she'd wanted it to be? His own life wasn't the one he wanted either--but when had she ever heard him complain about that?

"You're blaming yourself for something, Buffy," came Giles's sleepy voice, half-muffled in the pillow. "I can see that. Stop, please."

She glanced down to see one slightly-bloodshot green eye looking up at her.

"Someone's getting to know me a little too well," Buffy said.

"Such a thing is not possible." With a little bit of a groan, Giles rolled over to his back, still gazing at her face with sleepy, reddened, loving eyes. "Lord, I feel as if I've been fighting a Hellmouth."

"Gee," Buffy answered, "Wonder why?"

"Can't think, honestly." Giles scooted up against the headboard, and Buffy followed him, smiling as he lifted her astride his thighs.

"Mmn," she said, "Didn't think you'd be in the mood just yet."

Giles studied her, that little group of lines between his eyebrows, his expression as intense as if he was trying to read something life-or-death out of an extremely difficult book written in something that wasn't one of his easiest languages. His hands rose to push back her hair, his fingertips settling against the back of her skull, his palms against her cheekbones. Slowly, he drew her face to his and kissed her, first the slightest brush of his lips against hers, then a small suction on her lower lip, finally the tip of his tongue, tracing the curve of her mouth lightly before it slipped inside to be met by her own.

Buffy stroked his throat with her thumbs, then ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, being careful of the bandaged spot. She brought her hands up again over his chest, running her fingers through the hair, rubbing circles with her palms over his nipples. Giles's spine arched; their bodies collided briefly.

His hands left her hair to rest for a minute over her shoulderblades before moving, in a series of long, slow, velvety strokes, down her back, up over her ribs and down again, before they settled on her behind, rubbing the cheeks with a slow, perfect pressure that sent prickles of pleasure over her skin and made the warmth begin to build between her legs. Giles's left thigh rose slightly, pressing against her as his hands continued their work, their bodies once more meeting, then pulling apart.

They were like waves, it struck her, waves at the beach, breaking one over another. That time Giles caught and held her, suspending her with his hands beneath her upper thighs, holding her at just the level that his lips could close on her left breast, the entire surface of his tongue licking over the nipple, as if she was some particularly nummy flavor of ice cream, one he couldn't get enough of. The image made Buffy giggle, and her laughter made Giles laugh too, the sound vibrating through her sensitized breast and sending a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to her center. His leg rose beneath her, adding its support, and Buffy rubbed herself against his skin, pressing harder and harder until she thought she would come from that touch alone, and from the attention Giles was paying to her other breast. He'd gotten hard against her; the heat and the firmness of him pressed her lower abdomen.

Keeping one hand on his chest, Buffy reached down with the other, running her fingertips softly over the top of his organ, then back and forth against the joining of the shaft and the head, making Giles give a little soundless moan, his eyes closing, his head flinging back against the headboard with an audible thump.

"Ouch," she whispered, making Giles give a little smile. She didn't stop her attentions, moving instead to explore the underside of his cock, the ridges and the now-prominent vein, stroking him all the way down to the root, and the velvety scrotal sac.

"Lie back," Buffy whispered, pulling away from him. "Lie back and shut your eyes."

After a brief, questioning look, Giles obeyed, sliding down the mattress as Buffy pushed covers and pillows to the floor. When he was lying flat, she covered his eyes with her hand, bending down to kiss him again, more deeply than she ever had, drawing hard on his tongue, even biting him lightly. He was smiling when she took her mouth away, anticipating what was to come.

Buffy bent again, rubbing her own soft cheek over his stubbly jaw, over his throat, pushing her chin briefly into the hollow at its base.. "No peeking," she murmured, uncovering his eyes, sliding down along to bite at his erect nipples, then lick at them hard with her tongue, all the time rubbing down his stomach with the flat of her palm. She could feel his heart racing against her cheek, and a light throb running through his erection in time with his pulse. Touching him in that way aroused her to the point she hardly needed to be touched in return--instead, a feverish need filled her. She stretched across his body to fumble in the nightstand drawer and fish for one of the little foil packets, Giles arching again beneath her.

His breathing had quickened until he was nearly gasping, and she knew he must be painfully close, so close he wouldn't be able to last while she unrolled the condom. Instead, she backed off, covering his eyes again, watching until his breathing slowed a little, studying his body, so perfect, to her, and so familiar, sprawled against the pale blue sheet. When she couldn't stand not to touch him any longer, she opened the packet, rolling down its contents--a bright green one, she noticed, for old times sake.

"Giles," she said, slipping astride him. "You still with me?"

He made a noise deep in his throat.

Buffy adjusted her position, rising up a little, taking hold of him gently to guide him inside her. She moved with a slow, steady motion at first, not letting him move with her, but soon enough the heat of him spread through her, making Buffy feel molten and restless, making her want him to rise as she fell. "Now, Giles," she whispered, "Follow me now."

Buffy called out his name as the two of them rocked together in perfectly coordinated motion, her body bent over his, her breasts rubbing his chest, his hands cupped around her buttocks again, until his back lifted from the mattress and she ground down against him one final time, the explosion overwhelming, flames of pleasure shooting through every part of her, a cry of exaltation tearing from her throat. She felt his pleasure, and her own, the climax seeming to ripple on and on forever, leaving Buffy breathless and blind, what vision she had filled with multicolored sparks of light.

As she blinked and caught her breath, Buffy realized they were really there--the magic thingies, the Elementals, Giles called them, filling the bedroom, swirling patterns in the air so beautiful they made her want to cry.

Giles sat up, still joined to her, wrapping her in his arms. His cheek pressed to hers as they watched the joyous display together, every color in the world dancing, twining, then finally--after a long while--fading away.

"Oh," she breathed, when the last flicker had left them. "Why...?"

Giles cupped Buffy's face between his hands again, brushing away her stray tears with his thumbs. "Why did they leave us, love? Or why were they here?"

"Both, I guess." Buffy rested her head against him, sad and happy all at once. Happysad, again, as it seemed she'd been so many times on this journey.

"I believe--" Giles held her even tighter, making her feel utterly warmed, utterly protected inside the circle of his arms. "I believe they returned for one reason only: they came to tell us goodbye, Buffy. It's time to return to our real lives. Time for us to go home."

"To Sunnydale?"

Giles pulled back a little, giving her one of his grave looks. "Yes, my dearest. To Sunnydale."

"Could we...?" She'd been wanting to ask him, but didn't know quite how to put in. "That is--we closed the Hellmouth here--couldn't we do the same thing, back there? Make all our lives a little easier?"

Giles gave her a different look, slightly sadder than the one before. He slid over the edge of the bed, rolling up the used condom in a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand, then bending to retrieve the pillows and covers that had flown everywhere across the floor. "I shan't tell you that such an attempt would be impossible, Buffy--but it couldn't be accomplished in the same way. The London Hellmouth was evil, it's very true, but it was old and decayed--senile you might say. Even with that, look how strenuously it fought us. Were you aware that we very nearly did not survive?"

"I--" Buffy began, wriggling up into the mound of pillows that Giles had piled against the headboard. "Uh. No. I just...I mean it was icky, but I just trusted you. I knew you'd do it."

"My love." Giles gave a small, flickering smile as he joined her in bed. "May I always live up to the faith you place in me."

"You sell yourself short," Buffy told him. "But you don't give up. That's what Augustina said to me too--that you get scared, but you don't give up."

"Except--" Giles glanced down at his left arm, thinking, Buffy knew about the Eyghon tattoo, and the one time she'd ever known him to get so afraid he couldn't think of what to do. His jaw dropped.

"I know," Buffy told him. "It's gone."

"Good Lord," Giles said, rubbing the unmarked skin. "Buffy...it's..."

She was having a hard time reading his expression, maybe because he mostly just looked blanked out, as if he'd gone into overload. His pupils had dilated, and his eyes gone out of focus.

"Hey," Buffy said. "Hey, Giles, it's okay. It's of the good, really.

Giles blinked and came back to her. "Yes, yes, of course. It's only that--" His voice trailed off again, and Buffy waited for the blankness to return, but it didn't. "I feel as if I've become a different man," he told her. "I feel like a man with no past whatsoever."

"Is that a bad?" Buffy asked him, taking his suddenly cold hands in hers, holding them against her chest. "I mean--and don't take me wrong--but you have just about the most wigsome past of anyone I ever heard of, except maybe Moira, and even then I think you two were about neck and neck. Maybe that was something you needed to happen, to be able to let that go, and focus on your future?"

"I haven't a future," Giles told her, bending to kiss her again. "I haven't a future--but you and I, Buffy, we do."

"I like that," Buffy said, and stretched to return his kiss. "To the future!"

Giles pulled up the covers, tucking the sheet and blanket around the two of them as they lay spoon-fashion in the middle of the bed. Buffy had no idea what time it was, only that she felt heavy-eyed again, and more happy now than sad.

"To the future," she heard Giles murmur in her ear, sounding as if he was on the verge of drifting off. She tucked her body as close as it could get against his, letting her lids slip shut, and the tide of sleep carry her away.