Disclaimer: I own nothing but the storyline and Enid. And the nurse.
Chapter Eight: Reality
Enid Bergman was a nosy woman; she admitted it, and she felt no shame. Her neighbors were all disappointingly dull, with one exception. Rupert Giles had moved from London to Sunnydale, California several years ago. That was strange enough, especially considering that the man had given up his job as curator of The British Museum to be a librarian at the local high school. Mr. Giles had lived a seemingly solitary existence for the first year, although Enid did note that he kept exceptionally strange hours. The fall after his arrival in Sunnydale, a few teenagers had begun visiting him. The frequency of their visits had only grown over the next year. Enid sometimes wondered what was going on between the librarian and the students, but she didn’t want to pry. She just wanted to watch from her window.
Tonight, she saw a familiar sight that had been curiously lacking over the last few months. In the past, the most frequent visitor to the Brit’s house was a blond girl, but Enid had seen neither hide nor hair of her since last summer. Now here she was, wearing only a hospital gown, if Enid was not mistaken.
How curious, Enid said to herself as the man’s front door opened to reveal his very haggard-looking face. After a few moments, the man ushered the girl inside and closed the door. Enid harrumphed to herself, and turned away from the window. It was late, and she was tired. If only her favorite subject didn’t keep such bizarre hours.
~~~
Buffy stopped in front of Giles’s door, her breath coming in heavy gasps. She had sprinted all the way from the hospital, and her legs burned from the effort, yet goose bumps rose on her bare skin from the February chill.
February. “Oh god,” she whispered to herself, sounding broken to her own ears.
She had gotten here as quickly as humanly possible, but now she felt herself losing her nerve. What if Giles wasn’t here? What if he had moved away? What if he were gone? What if everyone she knew and loved had disappeared?
I don’t think I can do this. But she had to. She had to know, or else they would be gone.
~~~
Giles sighed and placed the book on the shelf, his hand caressing the leather spine for a moment. As he carried the dishes to the sink, placing the used tea bag in the trash, he mused on what his life had become. He lived only on his savings now, having lost both of his jobs, thanks to Quentin Travers and Xander Harris. Giles spent his days cooped up in his flat, poring through various tomes in a desperate attempt to keep ahead of any prophecies or scheduled apocalypses. Willow, Xander, and Oz came over most days to try to get him out of the house, but he was even more reclusive than ever before. Ironically enough, Angel was the only one he spoke comfortably with. Perhaps that was because they spoke only of slaying, whereas Willow, Xander, and Oz tried to engage the ex-Watcher in normal conversation.
Giles was interrupted from his musing by a gentle rap-rap on his door. Giles frowned at the clock on the wall. It was a bit early for Angel to be calling, unless an emergency had arisen. Giles stood and walked to the front door, checking that his crossbow was within reach before drawing back the latch and opening the door. The sight that greeted him was one he had dared to dream of seeing.
“Giles,” she said in a desperate whisper.
“Buffy.” The name fell from his lips like a prayer. A prayer of gratitude, for the Fates had returned her to him. “You . . . you’re . . . ”
“Hi Giles,” she said with a slight smile. The hint of tears glistening in her eyes betrayed her true emotions.
Without a single thought as to what he was doing, Giles pulled her into a fierce hug. He clutched her to him as if proving to himself that she was really there. He pulled away after several seconds, and held her at arms length, taking in the sight of her. He frowned as he realized that she was clad only in a pale blue hospital gown. “Dear Lord,” he said. “You’re . . . come in!”
~~~
Joyce hung up the phone and sat down in the nearest chair before her legs gave way beneath her. Her baby was awake, the nurse had informed her. Well, the nurse had said she was probably awake. Probably. They didn’t for sure, seeing as how she had disappeared from her hospital bed. Which was why Joyce was torn between renewed hope and blind panic. Fortunately, the phone rang again before she had the chance to panic.
“Hello,” she said breathlessly.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Summers, to be calling you again,” the nurse said, “but we’ve just heard from a woman who was coming to visit her nephew. On the way, she ran into a very confused someone who fits the description of your daughter.”
~~~
Giles pulled a cloth out of his pocket and languidly began to clean his glasses. Buffy had gone into the bathroom to change into some of his sweat clothes, which he knew would be far too large for her slender frame. Meanwhile, he had to make a phone call that he did not quite know how to make. He knew Joyce would be delighted by the news, but he also knew that Buffy had come to him before her own mother. How could he possibly explain that to Joyce?
Giles just prayed that the conversation would not escalate into a full-scale argument. That was the last thing Buffy needed to hear right now. The ex-Watcher took a deep, calming breath and removed the telephone from its cradle, punching the familiar numbers.
~~~
Joyce felt considerably less panicky when she hung up the phone for the second time. Her daughter was awake, and that thought made her happier than she had been in months. The only thing that could make the news better would be Buffy’s appearance at the door. Joyce closed her eyes and imagined it. She would be sitting here in the living room when she’d jolt to her feet at the sound of two slightly hesitant knocks on the front door. She would walk forward, anticipation building in her heart . . .
Her musings were interrupted once again by the shrill ringing of the phone, a sound that she was seriously beginning to detest.
“Yes?” she spoke sharply into the receiver. “Mr. Giles . . . . The hospital just called . . . . Buffy, she’s . . . oh . . . I, well, I see . . . . Is she . . . is she coming? You don’t . . . . Is she alright?”
Joyce closed her eyes tightly and pressed the phone against her forehead. This was not how she had imagined her daughter’s homecoming at all. But really, how could she argue with the man when he made so much sense. Buffy had reached his home by foot from the hospital, and now she was worn out. And it really was very early in the morning. By all logic, she ought to just return to the bed she had vacated when the phone rang, waking her from restless slumber. So why doesn’t any of this make sense to me? she wondered as she climbed the stairs.
~~~
“Giles.”
Her quiet whisper alerted him to her presence, and he turned around to see her standing at the entrance to the living room. As he had expected, she was drowning in his clothing.
“Giles,” she repeated. “I need to know.”
He sighed and sat down on the couch, gesturing for her to take a seat beside him. “Where should I begin?” he asked once they were both settled.
“At the beginning,” she said simply. At his look, her lips twisted into a wry grin. “What happened at Graduation? What happened after I . . . after I fell?”
Giles took a deep breath and pondered her question. “Well,” he began as he struggled for a way to answer, “you were found by a truck driver and brought to the hospital. We all rushed over as soon as we’d heard . . . The doctor told us that you weren’t going to wake . . . There was nothing we could do, so we returned to our preparations.”
“What about . . . what about Angel?”
“He is alive,” Giles reassured her. “Well, he’s not alive alive, but he is still, well, undead. Oz found a spell to, well, to cure him.”
Buffy could feel her pulse slowing, her heart calming at the news. Angel was alive. He was alive. But she still didn’t dare ask the question that plagued her mind: Where is he? After all, she felt certain that she knew the answer. I suppose a goodbye would have been too much to hope for. When she looked up, her eyes met Giles’s worried gaze, and she tried to silently tell him she was alright.
He looked down and removed his glasses, one hand fishing inside his pocket for a few moments before producing a soft white cloth. “Xander found a way to defeat the Mayor. It was quite ingenious, if a bit mad,” Giles said with a small smile, which Buffy couldn’t resist returning. “He, um, had us arm the entire graduating class, and then, well, blow up the school, with the Mayor inside it.”
Buffy was silent for a few moments and then she burst out laughing. “I bet he’s been wanting to do that for years,” she said breathlessly.
Giles chuckled slightly at that, but their mirth did not last long, and they both lapsed into silence.
“So,” Buffy began hesitantly, “is everybody . . . okay? Willow, Xander, Oz, Cordy . . . Mom?”
“They all survived. But you should now that after Graduation, Cordelia left. I believe she went to Los Angeles.”
Buffy nodded at the news, not entirely surprised.
“And Oz . . . well, he left a few months later. No one knows where he went.”
Buffy lowered her eyes. Oh god, poor Willow.
“But the others are perfectly alright,” Giles assured her. “Well, perhaps not perfectly . . . I am sure they will be even better when they learn of your awakening. I took the liberty of phoning your mother and telling her the good news.”
Buffy still did not meet his concerned gaze. She drew in a deep breath and gathered her courage to ask one final question. “What happened to Faith?”
Giles was a bit surprised to hear her ask that, although intellectually he knew he ought to have expected it. Still, it took him a few moments of silent contemplation to decide on the best answer. He slipped his glasses back on and looked his slayer in the eyes. “She is alive. Beyond that . . . I am not the one should tell you her story. Angel will tell you.”
He could see that his quiet statement only inspired more questions, but he knew that they could be talking until dawn. So he quietly suggested that they both get some rest, and that she should see her mother and her friends on the morrow, for they would all be eager to speak with her. She stretched out on the couch and was asleep by the time he had retrieved a blanket from the closet, not two minutes later.
Giles gently covered her with the soft quilt, and then stood back to regard her sleeping form. He knew that she was very confused, and not pleased by the situation, but she was awake and she was with him. That was enough for now.
TBC
AN: Sorry about the wait! Life’s been hectic lately. Turns out I’ve got pneumonia, not fun. But I’m awake enough to write, so here you go. Leave me some reviews to make me feel better? (Hint hint)
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