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Who:

consultmybooks. Buffy's remaining housemate and Giles' surviving late night snack are welcome to jump in when the dust settles
What: A confrontation
When: Late Sunday night, November 28
Where: Outside House 7
Summary: Giles is different. He doesn't believe it, but he is. He's crossed a line tonight, but he's crossed it for Buffy's sake. That should make it all right, shouldn't it? Unfortunately, Buffy doesn't exactly see eye-to-eye with him anymore.
Rating: PG-13, possible ranging to R

Rupert Giles was having a very good night.

He knew who he was. He knew what he was, and that was more than could be said for the past week. the past month, even, or the past several months. He couldn't remember feeling so completely and utterly at peace with himself in a very long time, and the feeling was wonderful.

Buffy had forgiven him. Xander would, eventually. Soon Willow would return, and they would help her, and it would be the four of them together again, facing down the monsters. There was snow on the ground, sparkling even in the faint light of the few visible stars. He was alone on his quiet walk to House 7.

Alone, of course, save for the dying pirate he dragged behind him like a rag doll. But Giles didn't even notice the weight, anymore. Jack Sparrow was dying, and that was all that mattered. Yes, he would be back in a week, but now he would know exactly what consequences came from with hurting Buffy.

Giles knew that this was his first step on the path to making things right with her. And he was happier than he could remember feeling in a very long time.

The lights of House 7 came into view along the path. Ignoring the groan from the pirate dragging behind, ignoring the crimson trail Jack was leaving behind them in the snow like a perverse trail of breadcrumbs, Giles picked up his pace. He could only hope that Buffy was home, by now.

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Buffy certainly was at home. Curled up on the couch with a mug of something firmly set between her hands. But she hadn't had a single sip. Earlier that evening, she had received a distressing notice from Sokka. She had since been repeating to herself--over and over, again and again--that she did not believe it. Giles couldn't be a...God, she wasn't even able to think the word. It came so easily to mind and lips when thinking about others. But she remained thoroughly resistant on this point. Giles, alongside Xander and Willow and Dawn, was everything to her. The firm arm to grip onto when the job got her down. The closest thing to a father since her real one had left. Back in Sunnydale, they had all had their close brushes with being evil but the closest Giles had come was his reaction to the candy that need not be named. And she would much, much prefer to remember the fact that Giles had slept with her mother than to even begin considering that he could be a...no. Still not thinking it.

But then the feeling began at the base of her spine. Vampire. Her breath caught in her throat and she slipped to a higher level of alert, spilling cold hot chocolate on her knee. Buffy didn't notice the stain. Could be Spike, she thought. Probably is Spike. With very careful and measured movements, she stood from the couch and approached the front windows. One deep breath.

Buffy twitched the curtain aside and did not bother to bite back a small cry at the sight. Giles. Unmistakably Giles, hauling something behind him. And with each step closer, the feeling crawled higher on her spine. Vampire. An afterthought registered the body behind him -- who was it? Somehow, that wasn't quite what mattered most at that moment in the majority of Buffy's brain. She was still grappling with revelation numero uno.

Solitary, she stood at the window. She would not make her move until Giles was closer. Until she could be sure that the feeling truly originated with him. Perhaps--perhaps!--she almost wistfully thought that the body behind Giles could be the vampire she sensed. Would that make things easier?

Edited 2010-11-30 04:29 (UTC)

Giles paused when he saw the shape at the window. Even at this distance, he could see Buffy clearly. It was wonderful not needing glasses - the first thing he would do when he got home tonight was step on them. He imagined the "crunch" of glass under his feet, and smiled. The memory of the "crunch" of glass under his feet morphed into the "crunch" of muscle giving way to fangs, and he glanced down briefly at Jack. He gave his victim a small shake, which received no reply. Maybe he'd finally decided to give it up.

Giles looked back up at House 7 and gave Buffy a small wave, just to show that she'd gotten his attention, that he was coming her way. And he continued his walk to the porch, dragging his prize, his gift, behind him. Maybe she would come out, maybe she wouldn't. It didn't matter either way - he would have loved to have spoken more with her, but he knew that she hated the cold and wouldn't begrudge her staying inside where it was warm and bright.

Her body did not move in the window. She might as well have been a statue. A picture of a girl. A representation of what a Slayer shouldn't do when faced with this feeling. The undeniable urge that told her to get busy with the staking. Ask questions later 'cause there's a vamp on the loose and it was her job to deal with that. Her calling. Although she resisted, the memory of yelling at Giles before the battle against the Master slid into her mind. One more deep breath; this one was shaky.

When Giles waved, Buffy lifted one of her own hands but doesn't wave back. Instead, she placed the palm lightly against the glass. She could feel the cold outside. A thin, thin barrier between her and it. And it, depending on the millisecond, ranged from referencing the winter wonderland beyond to the potential deadly enemy of an ally stalking closer to her house.

No. Not stalking. Buffy tilted her head and squinted just a touch. It was scarier in that he wasn't stalking but instead seemed to be merrily strolling towards the house. Momentarily, she was heartened. What vampire behaved like that? She asked herself this while also silencing herself. Don't think about Drusilla. Don't think about Angelus. Don't think about the particular manic joy they seemed to take. Focus.

Mechanically, she stepped back from the window and made her way to the front door. One winter boot. Two winter boots. She shrugged--forcing herself to be casual--into her heavy jacket. Buffy's hand was on the door-knob

Giles shrugged when Buffy left the window. If she didn't want to talk, he wouldn't bother her. Granted, he had no idea what happened to bodies in Luceti once they'd died. It was an interesting thought, and he wished that he could stick around to see it.

The porch was only a few feet away - Giles reached it and dropped Jack on the top step as though he were dropping something unpleasant in the trash. Then he took a few steps away and...waited. Just for a few seconds. Just in case. If she wasn't out by the count of five, he'd walk away. They could talk in the morning - he'd have nothing to do but talk, come morning.

At the sound of something hitting the porch, Buffy rather suddenly lurches into sight. She shouldered the door open with her head ducked. The better to not yet see what she was afraid to see; however, this meant that she first sees the body. With a sharp, tight breath she recognized Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Jack?" She but barely breathed the name, finger tips touching her lips as if to hold back the surprise. Uncertainty boiled in her as she watched eager, final drops of blood pool on her front step. She did not feel queasy -- how could she? She who had seen countless bodies like this. She who had been bitten herself. But there is an up-swell of pity and concern for the pirate who had held her hand so tightly only a week earlier. Who had expressed so desperately his concern over living. Was this what he had meant? He had prattled on about deaths and about curses and about Giles in their own stilted way.

With newly steeled nerves, Buffy looked up to Giles. "What is this?"

Giles watched Buffy carefully. A part of him had expected her to react like this. Because Buffy was kind, Buffy was good and heroic and kind. She would always look horrified and sad at the sight of the dead or dying, even when they happened to be as pathetic as Captain Jack Sparrow.

He was gratified to see that this, at least, had not changed during her time in Luceti. It meant that there was still a role he could play in her life. There was still a way he could protect her. A monster to fight the monsters...well, it had worked for Spike.

He didn't flinch or look away when Buffy finally turns her attention to him. His voice, when he finally spoke, was perfectly calm and content.

"Problem solved. When he comes back, maybe he'll finally have learned to stop bothering you."

What a terrifying reversal. Problem solved and all Buffy could think about was how Giles left her with all her problems. Telling her she would have to learn to solve them on her own. That he needed to stop being her crutch. "I never asked you to do this to him."

Why was she playing at his game? She could feel that he wasn't Giles anymore. Not her Giles, but in a wholly different way from how the alterna-Giles had been. But she could feel his vampirism as firmly as an icy cold hand on her back. Not letting her forget.

Buffy crouched -- half satisfied knowing that if any force was initiated she could handle it and half reluctant to accent that she would have to handle anything at all. She touched two fingertips to the puncture wounds on Jack's neck and they came up bloodied. But she was no stranger to being covered in other people's blood.

He would be fading fast. She would have to buy time. Find a way to get him to help without letting this new problem slip from her hands.

"No, you didn't. You never would have." There was something like real affection in his voice when he spoke. The vampire in him was wary and threatened, but Giles still had years of human memories to put him at ease and, right now, they were driving his actions and his words.

Maybe Buffy wouldn't like this, but she didn't have to. That was what he was here for, after all. Like the night he'd quietly suffocated Ben at the base of the tower, it was all for her own good. "But, you didn't have to. I can keep him out of your hair - you have more important things to worry about. It's no trouble."

The affection scared her more than the prospect of a vampire fight -- even if it would be with Giles. It brought up unpleasant associations with the kind of rabid obsession Angelus had shown. Buffy shook her head. Stop thinking about that. Instead, she hooked her fingers under Jack's limp arms and hauled him upwards.

"Stay." She commanded -- or begged -- almost sure that Giles would comply. "I'm not done wi--" Buffy broke off. Perhaps she should try lying? Try using the creepy affection to her advantage. Swallowing hard, the Slayer nearly gagged as she switched her tack. "I'm just gonna take this, uh, gift inside. Can you wait here?"

She could hardly hide her wince but stood with Jack's body draped against her. Waiting for Giles' move.

Giles watched, bemused, as Buffy hauled the pirate upright. "He's going to mess up your floor," he commented, mildly. "Bloodstains are exactly that - stains."

Should he wait? Buffy was obviously distressed. Giles knew that he was, at least in part, the cause of that. But Buffy wasn't thinking clearly, that much he also knew. Perhaps she would give him the chance to explain his actions. If she did, then Giles would do so and she might understand and this whole business could just be resolved.

Such were his human thoughts about the situation, running like old echoes through his mind as the vampire tried to make sense of the situation. But Giles watched more carefully, briefly seeing the Slayer and not the girl. Maybe she would give him a chance to explain himself, or maybe she was going inside to arm up for a fight.

That was all right. That was almost better. The fight with Sokka had been bracing enough, but a fight with Buffy, a chance to really see how she'd changed in a year and a half...that was an intriguing notion, and it almost made him smile.

Looking at Buffy with a new wariness, his head tilted slightly to one side, Giles nodded at her request.

"Take your time."

Wordlessly, she dragged Jack's body inside. Giles was right -- the blood would stain. But floors could be scrubbed. Maybe someone had magic in this place that would remove the blood. Therefore, Buffy did not bother with worrying over the trail that would lead from the door to her bedroom. Or the blood on her comforter as she rolled Jack's body onto her own bed. She paused for a moment, wiping even more blood off of her hands and onto her jacket. Scrutinizing the pirate's face. Tucking aside his matted hair. You don't deserve this.

But then she was moving again. Buffy grabbed her scythe and a stake, stuffing the second weapon into her pocket. "Bones!" She yelled. Then cursed to herself. The Doctor wasn't in. "L-Leonard?" God, but his first name felt foreign in her mouth. But she needed the boy -- though she hated the prospect of putting him through this. She sought him where he slept, detouring through the kitchen to grab a dishtowel that she tosses at him. "Jack Sparrow's bleeding out in my room. Can you staunch the blood?" Her words were tight. Strained. Mechanical. She probably looked terrifying despite her small stature -- covered in blood and armed. "My journal's by my bed. Call for Raine Sage. She'll help you."

Buffy could only wait for the smallest sign of agreement before marching back to the front door. She took a moment to herself. Steadying. And then she stepped back into the ring, holding her scythe against her shoulder. "He's going to live, you know."

(ooc; so i figure bones and giles can both respond to this one and kick off two separate subthreads?)

It was the nickname that had woken him and the use of his first name that erased any thought of sleep from his mind. On any other day, Leonard would have been shamefaced to be caught out lying; but the situation he had woken up to smothered any guilt as his stomach churned at the sight of her. Splattered with blood and carrying around something that he would definitely associate to the dark ages, he scrambled to his feet and caught the towel she tossed at him.

Jack Sparrow's bleeding out in my room. He could feel his blood rush out from his face and he opened his mouth to protest –- he had seen his father treat wounds sure, but he wasn't a doctor like him –- but she left before he could make a sound and was left to wring the towel in his hands, biting his lower lip uncertainly.

It was only a glance at the trail of blood and the strain in her voice that led him to her room and he knelt next to Jack Sparrow, before remembering what Buffy had told him. Call Raine Sage. He tore his eyes away from Sparrow and grabbed the journal placed nearby, flicking open the pages and announcing into it with a shuddering breath:

"Er... Raine Sage? I-I need some help and Miss-- er, Buffy said you could..." Time is of the essence here Leonard, he berated himself and forced himself to adopt a more authoritative tone. "There's a man here with.. two puncture wounds to his neck and he's losing a lot of blood. Please come to house seven."

And with that, he tossed the journal aside on the floor and pressed the towel Buffy had given him against his neck in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. It took his jaw clenching for him to apply more pressure that would hopefully prevent the pirate from bleeding out on the floor.

Raine had been spending the rest of the evening in an attempt to recover from some of the more strange aspects of the day, and only absently paying attention to the journal, when she hears the young man's voice calling to her directly.

"I'll be there-" She responds, and that's all that's needed; the connection is broken.

A message like that isn't going to go unheeded. Brief flashes of scenarios cross her mind as she grabs her coat and a bag of healing supplies, before hurriedly making her way toward house seven.

It would be a long walk in the cold, but that wasn't what mattered now. What mattered was arriving there in time.

Instead of panicking, Leonard felt oddly clam as he continued to hold the towel against his neck, the image of two puncture wounds burned into his head, along with the one with Buffy covered in blood with that weapon. He licked his lips nervously and looked over his shoulder at the door, but he already knew that she wasn't coming back.

"I don't know what you did to piss them off sir, but you need to stay with me. Raine Sage will be here soon..." He told the unconscious pirate awkwardly, his brow furrowing as the features brought back memories of a sailor swearing fervently that he was going to be pirate like his dad someday. Feeling hopeless, confused and disorientated, Leonard simply rolled his eyes.

"This place is really weird."

Time always seems to go slowly when you know you need to be somewhere. Rushing isn't always the best option, after all - getting tired out too quickly wouldn't help anyone. But for all her efforts, she will make it to the house in roughly a half hour.

... But why spend time knocking when receiving an urgent message like that? Raine lets herself inside the eerily quiet house. She's certainly familiar enough with it to make her way in.

"Buffy? Doctor McCoy?"

There's a trail of blood. An extremely telling trail. She shuts the door behind her and follows it toward the room.

In the half hour it takes for Raine to arrive at the house, Leonard had risked a quick dash to the kitchen to replace the blood-soaked towel and tried to hang onto his composure. He vaguely considered the chances of infection when he heard the feminine call from somewhere in the house and as the door was pushed open, he managed to tear his eyes away from Jack Sparrow and onto Raine Sage. Ah, authority; his shoulders sagged with relief.

"D-Dad and Buffy aren't here, but I'm Leonard McCoy." He said quickly, possibly still clinging to the childish belief that David McCoy was in this world with him and it was just a matter of time until he came to fix all of this, just like he always did. It was a lot easier believing that than it was to notice how weak his pulse was getting beneath his fingers and the colour continuing to drain from his face.

His bloodied hands began to shake and he swallowed: "Don't laugh, but I think it was a vampire that did this to him." It came out in a rushed, embarrassed confession. But he could not think of anything other than those mythological... things being responsible for the puncture wounds and he felt his ears burn as he waited for her reaction, looking up at her.

Raine isn't too taken aback to see the younger McCoy, as with what was going on in the village, it was just something that needed to be adapted to. She couldn't be too familiar with him, but she could direct him. And he sorely looked as if he was needing some direction.

Listening to the teenagers explanation, Raine moves in to kneel at the wounded pirate's side, recognition coming into her expression. The first thing would be to properly stop that blood flow. Those towels weren't going to do much. Surely McCoy kept some medical supplies around here somewhere -- and more than her own little kit had available.

"I need you to find gauze for me. I'm also going to need water, and blankets. We need to keep him warm."

Leonard listens to Raine with rapt attention and reluctantly pulls his hands away from the wound and tries not to gag at the blood still seeping from the wound. Was this what a severed artery was? Maybe he should have paid more attention to his father when he talked about work, but there was no point lamenting over that at the moment.

"Okay."

He nodded, acknowledging the direction he so craved at the moment. He leapt awkwardly to his feet and rushed out of the bed room, before he wondered just where the hell Buffy kept all of this stuff he was meant to find. Pausing momentarily, he decided to try nearest room and threw open the door, hoping to find something that could help.

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Something inside of Giles...reacted at the sight of the scythe. Something primal, animal, and angry. He growled softly at the sight of it slung over her shoulder - he couldn't help it, and almost didn't want to.

Fine. Buffy had made her choice. Instinct had triumphed over thought, so he wasn't entirely unprepared for the sight. But that didn't make it any less unpleasant, any less frustrating.

She never listened. Some things really hadn't changed.

"Why?"

"You told me...back when we first met." Buffy steps were quite on the porch as she descended to his level. Passing within inches -- unafraid -- she walked by him. Inwardly, she knew that she had to lead Giles away from the house. If all goes right with Bones inside, then Raine would be here within the hour. And Buffy did not want her dear friend to show up and witness what Buffy might have to do. "A Slayer slays." Verbatim, practically, from Giles' own words. That was the answer to his why.

She passed him as breezily as she could. Don't let him see you shake. Buffy could guess that Giles knew how she would be cowering from this. How very much she probably did not want to do this. But then again, he was also best equipped to know just how much she had to. There was no one else. No one else whom she would allow to take her place. Not Sokka, with his new found powers. Not Spike, with his matched vampire strength.

Buffy turned to look over her shoulder. "I'm not going to fight you here." Her voice sounded resigned.

It had been a tenuous balance all night, balancing vampire and human. Giles had wondered before now just what being this way would be like. It was only natural to wonder - Watchers were oftentimes special targets to be turned, whenever the opportunity arose, and the Council dealt with them mercilessly.

Now he could almost feel himself slipping over the edge.

Buffy's words were like a smack across the face. He looked away from her, reaching up to his face, meaning to take off his glasses and stall, like always. And then he remembered that he'd left his glasses on his bedside table.

He stood his ground when she walked past him, resisting the urge to flinch away. Just like with Sokka, Buffy was giving off an unmistakable aura of "threat" that made him edgy and angry. But he didn't want to let that show. Not yet. Not to her. Not until she gave him no choice. He could still think with his head and not his teeth - he was better than other vampires, he knew that.

"We don't have to fight." It wasn't as though he'd hurt anyone she knew or cared about. "You wanted him out of your way. He's out of your way.

I was trying to help."

"A man could die tonight. And it doesn't matter how much he drinks or how many times he could use fancy spells to trick me in an infinite amount of ways -- I don't want him out of my way." Her whole body turned, now. But she still walked backwards. "Not if out of my way is British vampire talk for dead. My God, I can't believe you thought I'd actually be happy about this."

She tightened her grip on the weapon and all the while her brain ran frantically to figure out a solution. Did she have to dust him?

Giles didn't follow. Didn't move. There was an unpleasantly organic sound of shifting muscle and bone as he let his game face show. He looked up at Buffy as it happened, making certain she could see the change.

"I'm not going anywhere." He drew the axe off his belt - the one he'd brought for the look of the thing to meet Jack on the bridge - and shifted into a fighting stance. "If you want to fight, we will fight here."

The shift that allowed the demon through shatters an edge of her resolve. The familiar face contorted and made so incredibly wrong by the demon within -- it made her sick to her stomach. Worse, perhaps, than the night she saw Angel's game face for the first time. Worse because back then Angel had still been something of an unmeasured quantity. But Buffy had come to expect to know Giles. Had spent years knowing his face and his expressions and now found herself utterly disgusted at this new mask.

In a cocky, bravado-filled show she twirled the scythe lazily in one hand. At least the weapon was familiar. If only it was the real thing and not the replica. "No. Fight or not? None of it's going to happen here. There's a boy in that house and he's already having one shock of his life by having to tend to a vamp attack victim. He doesn't need another in looking out and seeing us."

A vein of sisterly affection. Giles would know it well -- had heard it on multiple occasions when Dawn had been the centre of conversation. Maybe Buffy has been thrust awkwardly back into the role of older sister yet again, so long as this experiment had capped out Bones' age at younger than her, but the bond was still there.

"You cannot make me do anything anymore, Buffy, and you are doing yourself no favors by trying. And if you walk away from this house, I will not follow. I will, in fact, go off and find someone else to murder tonight and drop them off back here. And your young friend will get a few more nasty shocks. You have told me on many separate occasions now about how you've built a life for yourself here. And if you intend to defend it, you will do so here."

She had to fight him. Giles needed her to attack. Both sides of him, Watcher and vampire, knew that this was wrong. There should not be talk. There should only be battle, and victory for one side or the other. That was right. That was the way - a Slayer slays, or a Slayer dies. She had not forgotten that, at least, but she wasn't doing anything to stop him.

And so, Giles provoked her - even now, he felt safe in knowing which buttons to press. He knew how this had to go, even if she didn't anymore, and if she was still too scared to take the plunge then he would push her over the edge.

That was what fathers were supposed to eventually do for their children, wasn't it?