Bookends: Saying Goodbye
Title: Saying Goodbye
Author: il_mio_capitano
Rating: 15+
Characters Buffy, Giles. Post Chosen. Giles has a new life. Buffy won't let go.
Length 1660
Series: Bookends. All the Companion pieces in the series are listed here... It might not make much sense on its own.
They lay entangled together on the floor, momentarily free from the world with its lies and its horrors, their explosion of passion spent. They both softened to regulate their breathing and smell the intimacy of each other’s sweat. It was Giles who inevitably spoke first - "Are you going to miss your train?" - but the question was somewhat academic. Buffy had, after all, been within thirty seconds of departing his house. She'd only dropped her bag (briefly), by the door to check her phone calendar for her next visit, so, yes; her intended train was well and truly missed.
“They're every hour. I'll get the next one.”
Giles rolled away on his back and began to straighten his clothing. Buffy pulled at her own clothes, conscious for the first time of how thin the carpet was and how gritty her hair had become, and also how close to the table legs and an ensnaring telephone cable they had gotten. Funny, to think they had always made love in the bedroom before, and yet, this time they had come so close to calamity. She crawled impishly on his chest and began to play with the top button of his shirt that had come undone, frowning as she saw the fringe of some ugly bruising he’d been hiding. It was purple and black but as she made to pull back his shirt and reveal more, Giles’ hands moved swiftly and grabbed her wrists.
“But, you're hurt,” she began.
“Don't. It's nothing, leave it.”
She sat up sharply, wondering what other injuries he was hiding from her, and bored her eyes into his.
“Giles, was this a vampire?”
“No.” His countenance didn't waver for a second. “Of course not.” Then he broke into a grin. “If you must know I walked into a filing cabinet. It's embarrassing more than anything else.”
He didn't look embarrassed though, if anything, he looked rather pleased with himself as he let go of her wrists and settled his hands comfortably beneath his head, his elbows spread. Buffy trailed a fingernail gently across the small patch of exposed chest hair and then across his shirt to his shoulder. She thought she detected a row of neat stitches under her touch but he didn’t flinch or drop his lazy gaze.
“Looks like it put up a fight,” she said at last and was rewarded by the side of his mouth curling in amusement.
“Perhaps, but it's all done and dusted now.” They held each other's stare for a long time before he added softly, “Don't fuss. Don’t spoil this.”
They didn’t have much time left together so she relented and lay back down on him, her head on his other shoulder as Giles gently swept her hair from her eyes and his mouth as she settled comfortably.
“When were you thinking of surprising me?” she asked in a small voice.
His ribs rumbled with a dark giggle. “I thought I'd just surprised the both of us.”
“No.” Buffy kept her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “You have a leave of absence from the college next week. I know because Lady Sophie told me. She seemed to think you'd asked for it so you could take me away some place romantic. As a surprise.”
He sighed. “She must have misunderstood. I have no such plans.”
“But you do have a leave of absence?” she pressed. “You are going away next week?”
“Yes.”
“So is this an Ethan trip?”
The giggling returned. “Only if he buys me flowers.” Buffy scrunched his shirt in mild annoyance at his evasion, catching some chest hairs. “Ow. I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I'm just looking up some old friends. It's nothing sordid.” She let go, and smoothed her hand over the creases she'd made.
“What's so important you need time off work?”
“There are people I want to see who aren't available any other time. It's timing really, making sure our diaries match.”
She looked up at his throat and the side of his head. His eyes wore more battle lines than she remembered, for all his playfulness he looked tired.
“I might have been able to come had you asked,” she suggested.
“I knew you'd be busy with your work. After all, our time together is carefully allocated in your phone calendar, so I wouldn't presume to impose on you.” Buffy resented the suggestion she pigeonholed him but before she could defend herself, Giles wrapped his arms around her tightly and whispered, “You can't stop saving the world on my account.” His words, though soft, seemed resentful but in the sudden warmth of his embrace, Buffy was lost to the idea that maybe she just could.
They lay for a further ten minutes, perhaps both aware of the impoliteness of checking their watches, until Giles said, “You’ll miss another train.” and signalled the end of their time together. Buffy slipped upstairs and used his bathroom. Daylight was starting to fade and she was conscious of the loss of summer with its long and comfortingly warm days. England had always seemed a degree or two cooler than Paris, but as the season was changing, she’d noticed the difference more this trip and would need to pack warmer clothes for next time. She padded down the stairs but pulled up silently at the sight of Giles standing forlornly by his mantelpiece. His shirt was hanging loose and his shoulders stooped and he seemed to be morosely regarding himself in the mirror that hung over the fireplace. He looked grey and pallid without summer sunlight streaming in through his windows and for a moment he looked as lost as he’d ever been. Giles had displayed puzzling behaviour the last few days, but he had seemed to have more confidence in his overall demeanour. At times he’d been almost cocky and carefree, so it was a shock to see such a regression. She wanted him to be happier with himself. She wanted to help him be himself again.
Buffy took a further step and perhaps he caught a glimpse of the movement in the mirror because he immediately straightened, pushed his shirt back in his pants and ran his fingers through his hair by way of a comb. Buffy retrieved her own hairbrush and stood by the mirror also, brushing furiously to bring her hair back to shape, conscious Giles had folded his arms but was watching her nevertheless. Their stolen hour was almost up and she wondered if he was sharing the same sense of melancholy that she felt. She drifted slightly closer to him but he shrank away to pour himself a whisky, then grinned as he toasted her silently and sipped it, challenging her to object to his habit. But he was back to looking almost insufferably pleased with himself and as it was the first scotch she’d seen him take all visit, she let it slide.
“You are being careful aren't you?” she asked, thinking back to the discovery of his injuries.
“Haven’t spilled a drop,” he beamed and shook the glass jovially.
“No, I mean, in general, when you go out?”
“Buffy, I slipped and fell into a filing cabinet and caught my shoulder on it. But if it helps, I promise I'll be far more wary of static office furniture in future.” He was playful and joking, and whilst it was a side of him she’d almost forgotten existed, the mood swings disturbed her. She knew it was contrary of her to feel disquieted by his happiness, it was, after all, what she'd always wanted for him, but something felt different this time, something had changed between them somehow.
She boldly took the glass from his hand and swallowed what was left.
“Maybe I should help you with your filing?” she said, pushing the glass back on the counter. Giles folded his arms and looked down at her with a challenging gleam.
“That wouldn't be nearly as much fun as you'd think,” he said. “I know you: you'd always want to file that last one.”
Buffy met his gaze for a while but he offered no further explanation. The hairs on the back of her neck that tended to only warn of danger of vampires were bolt upright, but there was no apparent threat that evening, just a vague sense that they were at some sort of turning point. Buffy turned to the door and gathered up her bag.
“So three weeks from Thursday?” she asked.
“We did that part already.” He was smiling warmly again and Buffy flushed too, remembering how it seemed to be the talk of planning their next meeting that had triggered something: a passion sparked from parting and finality, a reluctance to say goodbye. He'd surprised her certainly, but then, perhaps, she'd surprised him with the enthusiasm of her own response.
“Yes.” She grinned and taunted, “You can tell me all about your mysterious vacation when I see you next.”
“It's more a sort of mini break,” he deadpanned, teasing her again so her only response was to narrow her eyes and play her part.
“Whatever. Where is it you're going exactly?”
“Norfolk. It's in East England.”
“You will be safe, won't you?”
“It is the most boring county in England. How could I not be?”
As had become custom, they hugged their farewells before she opened the door eliminating the opportunity for his student neighbours to goggle. She pulled him tightly to her, fearful for a moment to let go and was rewarded when it seemed Giles, too, had no desire to disengage. His hand brushed her hand and his lips grazed her ear.
“You stay safe, Buffy. You keep on saving the world for me.”
And then his touch was gone, his hands were in his pockets, his eyes anywhere but hers. He made no further move when she opened the door, so Buffy left to begin her walk to the train station, never looking back.