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Brought to Heaven	By : QueenB Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Giles Views: 9385 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Email: queenboadiceaoftheiceni@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: This belongs to the great and powerful Joss and the usual gang of idi…uh, geniuses.
Pairing: B/G
Feedback: Do your worst--it can’t compare to my worst ;)
Notes: Spoilers for BtVS season six episodes. This is in response to the “Art” theme on http://www.buffygiles.com
Thoughts are shown in italics.

Dawn was pissed at her again. But when wasn’t Dawn pissed these days? She was either throwing one of her tantrums or giving Buffy the cold shoulder and the Slayer was fed up with it. She was trying, wasn’t she? She was trying to juggle the household bills, put her little sister through school and manage the Slaying. And what did she get for it? Major grief and Key-shaped hissy fits.
I should have let her dive off that damned tower. My life would be way easier. Naturally, she did her best to squelch such thoughts. She never spoke them out loud, not even to Spike. He probably would have made a joke about killing Dawn for her. Ha ha. Really making with the funny fun, Spike.
Spike. There was another problem. He’d been sniffing around her more and more since she got back like a dog you were too bored to kick. But Spike wasn’t a dog and his bites could be deadly. She wanted to get rid of him yet she found herself leaning on him for comfort more and more. It was going to get her into trouble but she couldn’t seem to stop…
And what about Giles? He was back from England but somehow he seemed oddly remote. She knew he was glad she was alive again. But hearing him chew out Willow about her resurrection had been horrible, to say the least. On some level she knew it was prompted by his concern for her well-being. But it had sounded an awful lot as if he’d been sorry she was back.
Well, why shouldn’t he be sorry? He had been free of it all. Unlike the others, who’d had to patrol the Hellmouth while she was dead, he had been able to pack it all up and go back to England. Anya had talked Buffy’s ear off non-stop about how Giles had simply refused to go. For months after her death he’d stayed around and driven the ex-demoness up the wall with his training of the Buffybot and needless instructions to the android about breathing exercises and focusing on her chi. Buffy had had to smile at those stories. Giles had actually managed to teach her something about meditation although having Dawn around during such lessons had made them a touch-and-go business.
He had left eventually. But now he was back and Buffy found her thoughts dissolving into confusion whenever she tried to focus on just what that meant to her. She was happy Giles was back, she knew it. But why was she so happy? And was Giles glad she was back?
She shook off her thoughts and went back to cleaning the kitchen. A woman’s work is never done. Crap, a Slayer’s work is never done. Once again resentment at her friends flared up inside her. She’d been happy, dammit, happy and at peace in heaven. She had been able to hang up her spurs or saddle or whatever cowboy reference she was reaching for and then her good friends had pulled her from her just reward back to the whole entire-world-on-her-shoulders shitjob that was the Slaying gig.
She was startled out of her angry musings by hearing the phone ring. Yay! Saved by the bell!
Buffy dumped the cleaning brush into the bucket and stripped off the hideous pink plastic gloves she was forced to wear to spare her hands.
“Summers residence. Can I help you?”
The measured, cultured English tones came over the phone. “Buffy, I’ve been researching most of the day and I can’t find anything that matches the description of what you mentioned.”
He was talking about the wacky day when time had sped up, demons had appeared and disappeared out of nowhere and the Groundhog Day remake she’d been forced to endure at the Magic Box. She sighed in exasperation. She hadn’t really expected anything yet she felt obscurely disappointed. Somehow she always counted on Giles to figure out these things. Well, he was only human, after all. Unlike certain peroxide vampires she knew…
She shrugged and decided to head over to the Magic Box. Giles was busy running the store these days along with Anya; he wouldn’t have been able to devote as much time to it as he needed. Maybe she could dredge up something he’d missed. Screw the cleanup. Time to be Researchy Girl. Remember to keep the fake-Buffy smile in place.
Yeah, that was getting harder, too. Who knew that pretending to be happy was such a strain? Still, it was getting easier--probably because her friends were going along with the act. They knew something was wrong but none of them knew how to fix it. So they kept their eyes trained on her like lasers while refusing to talk about the problem. Way to deal, guys.
She swung open the door to the Magic Box. “Hey, Giles. Miss me?”
The Watcher looked up at her from the woman who was trying to decide between an amulet for inducing love in a chosen object of affection and a spell involving candles and stinky incense. Anya scowled at her from behind the counter.
“Buffy,” she hissed. “Some of us are trying to run a business. If you’re not going to buy anything, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get in Giles’s way when he’s making a sale.”
Usually such a comment would have gotten a snappy retort out of her. But Buffy merely smiled at Anya and shrugged. “Fine. Is it okay with you if I look through the books?” Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to the store ladder and climbed to the balcony.
She lost track of time as she went through one book after another. This was a waste of time and she’d known it even before she began her search. The book she was currently holding fell open to a certain page and her eyes widened. The spell outlined was made to engender physical love and the pictures accompanying it were really…graphic. There was one in particular that made her smile as she recalled fond memories of her mother.
“Have you found anything relevant to your demon suspect?” The smooth voice came over her shoulder and she started guiltily. She looked up into Giles’s eyes and she wanted to slam the book shut. A split second later she defiantly decided to keep it open and let him see what she was looking at.
“Naw. Coming up a blank here. Maybe instead of whaling on those demons at Xander’s site, I shoulda kept one of them for questioning. Not that they seemed the talky type.” She let her hand splay casually on the page with the illustration.
Giles looked at it and raised an eyebrow. His expression was one of wry amusement as he glanced at the suggestive drawing on the page. “I doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for in there.”
She glanced downwards and affected a casual surprise. “Oh this? I was just reminded of this pen-and-ink drawing by Gericault. You know, the one of that young man leaning back onto one hand and the woman stretched out along his body. It’s kinda of the sameness with this.”
This time the look on Giles’s face was one of surprise. “I know that picture. It’s called The Embrace. I didn’t know you knew anything about art.”
A flash of something like fury flickered in Buffy’s eyes and this time she did close the book. “Yeah, just the same way you didn’t think I knew what a card index was, huh? Hello, my mother did use to run an art gallery. Remember, Giles?” She shoved the book back willy-nilly onto the shelf and scrambled up.
Giles was taken aback by her abrupt change of mood. On the one hand, he was gratified to see some emotion other than the blankness she’d been wearing on her face like a stone mask. But this anger seemed to come out of nowhere and it worried him. “Buffy, what is it? I didn’t mean to imply--”
“That I’m stupid? That’s okay. I know I don’t come off as being particularly smart. A lot of people think I’m a ditz. Goes with the blonde hair, I guess.” The anger had disappeared as suddenly as it appeared and the smooth veil of nonchalance was back in place. Dammit.
“Buffy, would you…” He halted, not certain what he was going to say next.
“Would I what?”
Giles chose his next words carefully. He’d initially wanted Buffy to train with him but she’d been doing a lot of that lately. Training and patrolling seemed to be the only things she had a passion for and that wasn’t good. A Slayer who lived solely for slaying wound up a dead Slayer. Kendra had taught him that.
“Would you go to a museum with me?” Well, perhaps he should have considered his words a little better because Buffy was staring at him as if he’d grown another head and it had horns and scaly skin.
“A museum? As in pictures on the wall that don’t move? Are you sure? Because so not my usual evening out.”
“Yes, I’m aware that evenings out include the Bronze and soda and cacophony driving people insane but I thought you might appreciate a change of pace.”
“It’s not noise, Giles. It’s music.” At his slightly startled expression, she smirked at him. “Yes, Giles, I know what ‘cacophony’ means. I only look blonde, remember?”
“Ah, yes, I know all about that. I’ve seen your roots,” was the dry response.
“I don’t dye--” She caught the teasing smile lurking around his lips and her mouth snapped shut. With an irritated scowl, she muttered, “So where are we going? Sunnydale isn’t exactly culture central.”
“Well, we could go to San Francisco. There’s a--”
“Giles! Do you still work here or not? We have customers coming in with money to spend and you’re wasting valuable consumer time chatting with Buffy.” The Slayer and her Watcher turned to see Anya standing near the top he she stairs, her arms crossed and her foot tapping impatiently.
Giles glared at her and mentally resisted the urge to kick the woman down the stairs. Buffy slid past him and walked over to the staircase. “It’s okay, Giles. We-we’ll talk some other time.”
“Buffy, wait.” It was no use. She disappeared into out the door and he puffed out his lips in exasperation.
“Finally! I thought she’d never go. Honestly, she needs to get some honest employment so she can hang out somewhere else. Having her here all the time is counterproductive to a decent work ethic,” Anya rambled on, heedless of the importance of the conversation she’d interrupted.
Buffy strode out of the store, hoping Giles would come running after her. But he didn’t. [Guess he prefers making money with Anya to talking to his Slayer.] The next moment she realized the thought was selfish and unfair. Giles had a living to make, after all. He couldn’t just pu on on hold whenever she had a problem. Besides, he had come back to Sunnydale for her. What more did she want from him?
There it was, that confusion whenever she thought of herself and Giles. Her mind kept skittering away from it. Skittering away from what? There’s nothing to do the skitter dance about. See? Total skitter-free zone in here.
She shook her head and continued walking. There I am doing the usual Buffy reject. Something personal comes up, run away from it. That’s what landed me with Riley. He was rebound guy from Angel. No, wait, that was Parker.
She gritted her teeth as she resisted the urge to mutter under her breath. Talking to oneself was one of the first signs of madness. And running through old relationships that are so over isn’t? And why am I thinking about Giles and relationships anyway? What is wrong with me?
Forget this Giles mess. Sunset was only a few hours away. Just stick with the Slaying. Slaying is simple. In goes stake, vampire go ‘poof!’ No Buffy thought need apply. Buffy knew this was dangerous thinking but it was uncomplicated and that’s what she wanted. No thinking about heaven, no thinking about bratty sister-shaped Keys, no thinking about Giles.
__________

Buffy couldn’t believe it. Angel was on the phone. Willow had called him in a desperate attempt to jolt Buffy out of her apathy and now her ex-lover was on the phone asking to talk to her.
She gripped the phone so tightly she nearly cracked the plastic and then took a deep breath. “H-hello? Angel?”
“Buffy.” It was just a single word but all the old feelings came rushing back. Well, it was more like the ghost of old feelings. She could tell he felt much the same, though. He still said her name as if it were some kind of prayer.
They chatted quietly for a few more minutes. Giles was still sorting through the mess in the living room. One of the M’Fashnik demons had come looking for her and thoroughly trashed the living room furniture. She’d have to find a way to replace it on her meager savings. Great; another mess for Buffy to clean up. All of a sudden, the urge to leave Sunnydale and all the hell it reminded her of was so fierce it gripped her heart like a physical ache.
“Angel called.” Her voice was quiet but the determination in it was clear.
Giles tried to swallow his disappointment as he thought of what was coming next. “O-of course. You’ll want to see him. You’ll leave in the morning…”
Was he being dense? Angel was a vampire! She couldn’t see him in the morning. “No. I have to leave now. There’s a place…” It was a quiet little motel midway between Sunnydale and L.A. She’d never told anybody else but Angel about it. It was called the Heartbreak Hotel and she’d been so taken with its Elvisy overtones and her overwhelming feelings about her vampire boyfriend that it had stuck in her mind. She’d talked about it once on the telephone with him and laughed as he told her how he’d accidentally crashed Elvis and Priscilla’s wedding.
Giles watched her snatch up the car keys and leave without another word. This was too much. It reminded him painfully of the time she had disappeared after sending Angel to hell. She’d left without a word, leaving them all to think she was dead or worse. Then she had returned with almost no explanation. When Angel had mysteriously reappeared in their lives, she’d hidden him and then asked Giles for help with no regard to his feelings.
Now she took off to see her ex-lover without any concern for her friends and family or the mess she left behind her. Typical. All at once, a cold rage welled up inside him followed instantly by the familiar sense of defeat.
Of course she’d want to see Angel. Who else could understand what it was like to come back from the dead?
__________
Buffy drove back to Sunnydale with an odd kind of peace inside her. Well, peace was too strong a word. She didn’t feel exactly right with the world but thought she had settled at least one thing to her satisfaction.
Whatever had been between her and Angel was over. Maybe it was coming back from the dead--no, that couldn’t be it. She’d died once before and still been madly in love with him. But she realized that this vampire was different from the Angel she’d known. He had a kind of lightness to him that he hadn’t before and, after focusing on her, he’d been eager to talk about how different things were at Angel Investigations. He had a hotel now, a grand place like a palace, and he was actually making an income. She’d been so envious about how well his life had turned out. He was doing better than she, it seemed.
Then he told her how the bottom of his life had fallen through when he’d heard about her death. As he rambled on and on about his trip to Tibet, she couldn’t help an odd kind of resentment. Where was all this grief and concern when she was fighting Glory? He’d exited her life without a backward glance and except for the stray reappearance had never returned. If this was love, it didn’t count for much.
Naturally the selfish thoughts were followed by the usual guilt. Angel was doing good things in L.A. He was helping others and that was great. He was seeking a redemption that apparently no longer centered around her. She should be happy for him. So she struggled to smile and tell him how proud she was that he was doing so well and pushed her own unhappiness far down so they wouldn’t spoil this meeting. She didn’t say a word about heaven.
Guess that shows it’s over. I never would have tried to hide something so important from Angel in the past. Buffy parked in front of the house at 1630 Revello Drive and glanced up at the house. For the first time in several hours, she wondered how the others were doing. They had been handling the Hellmouth just fine when she was dead. Did they really need her now? What if she got back in the car and never returned?
The next moment she dismissed the idea and cold resolve hardened her expression. She was the Slayer. That meant no running. She sighed heavily and walked up the drive with the bucket of chicken she’d picked up as a dinner/peace offering.
__________
Giles looked up as Buffy entered the living room. They had just finished dinner and Buffy looked disappointed that they didn’t want the fast food she was offering. The reunion had been hard on her, he could tell. But all she would answer to anybody’s questions was that the meeting had been “intense.” That was a word that covered a lot of ground. She didn’t mention Angel again and for that he was profoundly thankful.
He cornered her when she was washing up the dinner dishes and stood by her side quietly. “Giles, if you’re just going to stand there, the least you can do is help. How about grabbing a towel, Watcher mine?”
“Yes, of course.” They proceeded in silence for a while. “Have you thought about my offer?”
She gave him a blank look. “Offer? What offer?”
Capital. She’d forgotten already. “About the museum. If you’re not interested, then we can just forget it.”
She stared again and then comprehension lit up her features. “The museum! Yeah, I’d love to go!” She grinned at him and he was startled at how her face was transformed. She appeared actually happy and he realized that he hadn’t seen her look like that since he got back to Sunnydale.
“So which museum are we going to?”
“Well, I was thinking of the Legion of Honor. They have a fine collection of European artwork.”
“Cool.” She continued washing the dishes a moment longer in silence and he kept quiet. She was pondering something and he didn’t want to interrupt her train of thought.
“H-how long should we be gone? There’s Dawn to take care of and the Hellmouth--”
“The others dealt with the Hellmouth quite effectively during the five months of your death. They can manage a small weekend.” He heard her suck in her breath and she became preternaturally still. “Buffy? Are you all right?”
“Y-you said it--about my being dead.” At his shamed and guilty look, she hastened to explain. “No, don’t feel bad. Except for Angel nobody else mentions it. They talk about my being ‘away’ or ‘gone’ as if I’d played hooky or something. It kinda makes it hard to talk about the whole resurrection dealie. It’s just one more thing they don’t talk to Buffy about because it might upset her.”
“I don’t think they’re afraid, exactly. It’s--it’s just that this is new territory for them, for all of them. They simply don’t know what to say to somebody in your position.”
“That’s stupid. It’s not as if I hadn’t died before.”
He managed not to wince at the reminder. “That was different. You were only dead for a minute and then promptly revived. There was nothing supernatural in it--just good old-fashioned CPR. Now you were brought back by magic and everybody is still baffled by how it was possible.”
“Willow isn’t baffled. She’s all ‘Yay me! Everybody look at the superwitch.’ Definitely no baffling there.”
“Perhaps that is the wrong word. I believe you Americans would say ‘spun?’” he replied.
“Still spinning,” she muttered as she handed him another dish. She looked down into the empty sink and turned off the faucet. Then she turned towards him with her arms folded. “So this museum gig. When do we go?”
Their stated intentions to abandon the others for a short weekend brought forth mixed reactions from the Scoobies, to say the least. Buffy made the phone call to Xander early in the morning and told Willow and Tara before they headed off to school. Giles told Anya while she was re-stocking the back shelves. She was pleased at the idea of running the store without Giles’s constant nagging supervision, Xander was puzzled while Willow and Tara were enthusiastic and weirdly smug. Throughout Buffy’s recitation of the museum and its delights, Dawn merely looked bored.
“So do I have to go on this lame museum trip?” she mumbled around a wad of gum she was chewing.
“Nope. You get to stay home this weekend or, better yet, you can stay with Janice. Pig out on ice cream. Go nuts. Just make sure all your--”
“--all my homework’s finished. Gotcha.” Dawn was considerably more cheerful now that she knew she could spend time with her best friend. She peered at Buffy narrowly until her sister fidgeted.
“What? What is it, Dawn? Do I have something on my face?”
“Yep. A smile. I haven’t seen one of those in a while. It’s kinda nice to have ‘em back.”
Buffy was immediately on the defensive. “What are you talking about? I smile. I smile a lot. I’ve been smiling Buffy.”
Dawn shook her head. She knew better. “No. I remember what you said when you were on that tower. You wanted to know if this was hell. It-it feels like it to you, doesn’t it? Why?”
Buffy’s expression went so completely blank that Dawn wished she hadn’t said anything. “This isn’t hell, Dawn. I’ve got my friends, my sister, my Watcher and my life back. So being here is totally of the good.”
Dawn’s gaze swept over her face while Buffy maintained a bland stare. “It’s just--you seem so out of it sometimes. And, by sometimes, I mean all the time. It’s like you’re not really here.”
“Well, I am. Right here. Except that I’m not gonna be for the weekend. So you go to Janice and stay out of trouble. Okay, kiddo?” She ruffled her sister’s hair and made an effort to smile. Only, it didn’t seem that much of an effort for a change. She was going on an outing with Giles, just the two of them. The thought made her absurdly happy for a reason that she didn’t try to analyze.
“Cool. Say, what do we tell Spike?” At Buffy’s startled look, Dawn realized her sister hadn’t considered the blonde vampire when making her plans.
“Tell Spike? Um, well, after we’re gone, you can tell him--well, don’t tell him anything. Only that Giles and I are taking a short break and he should help the others patrol. Speaking of patrol, I should be hitting the graves,” she finished, looking at the clock.
She wasn’t really looking forward to it. She knew she’d run into Spike again--or, more likely, Spike would shadow her and try to push their newfound closeness into something else. The thought was darkly appealing and thoroughly frightening and why was she even considering it? Was she going mental?
__________
She geared up with a single-mindedness that Giles would have appreciated. She changed into a dark blue top that closely hugged her curves. She didn’t wear such clothes for sexiness; she found that loose clothing dragged and flapped around her form when she fought and slowed her movements--not much but enough to let a demon get the drop on her. Besides, tight gear meant that a demon couldn’t get hold of any piece of clothing and pin her down. She wiggled into the jeans and stepped into her battered shoes.
Gonna need new footgear soon. Forget about the expensive stores, Buffy. It’s shopping at Payless now now on. She grimaced at the thought and not for the first time wondered how her mother had been able to meet the expenses. Holding down a job, rearing two kids (or maybe one. Did the monks help out with the bills somehow when they’d made Dawn?) and keeping a house had to be a drain even with her dad’s alimony checks. Feeling a flare of guilt, Buffy realized that she’d never appreciated her mother the way she deserved.
That’s pretty much the case with all kids, I’m betting. We never get what our parents do for us until it’s too late. She experienced the same fleeting ache she always got when she thought about her mother although it wasn’t nearly as sharp these days. She’d never properly mourned for her mother other than that one time when she’d cried buckets when her sister tried to create Zombie Mom. Since then, not a single tear.
Occasionally she worried about that--that strange numbness blanketing her feelings ever she crawled out of her own grave. Then she shrugged it off and went back to the mindless routine of Slaying.
She was in fine form tonight although there was no real hazard to the slaying. The vamps were newbies and didn’t have any survival skills at all. Then again, most vampires didn’t. Most of them seemed to rely on their superior strength, speed and senses rather than any real technique. That attitude made them arrogant and sloppy. All the better for her to kick their asses.
She finished off the latest entry into Dustville and wiped her hands on her jeans. She started slightly as she heard Spike’s voice coming from behind her. “Good work, Slayer. Of course, that guy was a joke, definitely not any kind of a challenge. Still, you seem to be more or less on your game.”
“Spike. Didn’t notice you back there. Isn’t there a game of kitty poker you should be at?”
“The pussy I’m looking for isn’t at any card game.” The sly insinuation made her grimace while she cast about for a witty retort.
“It’s too bad the Buffybot is scrap. She could have really helped take the edge off, Mr. Washboard Abs.” She didn’t have to look back to know he was embarrassed at that mention of his foolish fiddling with the latex-covered sexbot. She grinned to herself as she heard what sounded suspiciously like the grinding of teeth.
“Well, she wasn’t doing that after you--they kept her around mostly for patrolling, you know. She did a right good job of it, too. Guess being a Slayer isn’t so special after all if a mere ‘bot could do the business.”
Oh, that was a low blow and Buffy wasn’t about to let it slide. She whirled around and faced him with a brilliant smile. “Really? Then I guess the fact that you murdered two of them isn’t so great after all. Should have known by the way you talked about it. You never mentioned any fancy moves when you killed that girl in China or that woman in New York. You just kept babbling on and on about a death wish. Now that I think about it, since Slayers usually get offed in their twenties, it’s kinda strange that you only managed to bag two. Shouldn’t there be more notches in your belt? And Drusilla killed a Slayer, too. That’s half your score right there and she certainly isn’t the fighter that you are. So I suppose the fact that you murdered two Slayers--no big, huh, Sparky?”
Spike scowled at the easy dismissal of his Slayer kills. “Didn’t have to do the job with you, did I? You went and killed yourself. Did a bleedin’ Iron Cross off the high dive. Guess I was right about the death wish thing, wasn’t I, Slayer?”
She glared at him and her voice became icy in its scorn. “I wouldn’t have had to if you had protected Dawn like you promised. That was your moment in the spotlight and you blew it…just like you’ve failed every important moment in your worthless existence.”
She stalked off and left him speechless behind her. Part of her was astounded that she was being such a bitch. Another part couldn’t care less. And running under all that was a kind of dark glee that she’d been able to wound him and shut his mean little hole for once.
Buffy was suddenly way thankful for the upcoming museum trip. She desperately needed a break. If she stayed here any longer, she was seriously going to lose it.

TBC
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Brought to Heaven