Title: Porcelain
Author: Firephly
Rating: PG
Pairing: Giles/Willow
When: Season 6 - Flooded
Giles walked into the darkened kitchen with a towel over his shoulder, cleaning up the last of the dishes from the night's meal. He still couldn't believe that Buffy was back from the grave. And he hated himself for the feelings of distress he had when he got the call that she was alive. He should be nothing but elated. But still he found part of himself hoping that the call was just a dream.
First he had dealt with mourning her death, and then blaming himself for not saving her. And now he was finally putting together some semblance of a normal life back in England. But by the grace of…no, not by the grace of God…by the spells Willow had cast, Buffy had returned. He had never felt more emotionally on edge in his life.
Yes, Buffy was back. But at what cost. From his long tenure in this world he knew that nothing happened without a price. And from the way Buffy was acting, he wondered if that price was part of her soul. She wasn't her old self. Something definitely happened to her while she was gone…wherever she had gone.
”Hey Giles,” Willow surprised him from the dark. He tried not to flinch at the sound of her voice. She had crossed lines he never imagined she would cross. Worry for her sat in the pit of his stomach eating away at the feeling of ease he used to feel around her. She had been his companion for so long, helping him research, being the only one of the group that he felt he could connect to as an adult. But now he frowned as he looked at the stranger she had become. He wondered how he had missed the change in her.
”You have a good talk with Buffy?” she asked cheerily, picking up a box of cookies from the cupboard and taking a seat by the island in the middle of the kitchen.
”Yes, now that she's back,” he replied, his voice devoid of the same enthusiasm.
Willow smiled.
“Isn't it awesome?”
”Mmm,” he removed his glasses, dreading what he had to ask. But he had to know what magicks she had invoked to bring Buffy back. “Tell me about this spell you performed.”
”Oh, okay, first of all? So scary,” Willow talked excitedly. “Like, the Blair Witch would have had to watch like this,” she covered her eyes with one hand, peeked through her parted fingers, then dropped her hand and grinned.
Giles looked grim. Willow continued, oblivious to his disapproval.
”And, and, and this giant snake came out my mouth and there was all this energy crackling, and this pack of demons interrupted, but I totally kept it together. And then, the next thing you know?” she held up her hands triumphantly, “Buffy.”
She smiled proudly, fished out a cookie from the box and took a bite. Giles had his back to her, staring at a chip in his porcelain tea cup from dinner. She had done the ritual of Osiris, he fumed. He took a sip of water from an unbroken glass trying to rid his mouth of its sudden dryness and angrily dumped the rest of the water back into the sink. How could she have been so irresponsible? Over his shoulder, Willow could barely make out his admonishment,
”You're a very stupid girl.”
Willow paused chewing, slowly stopped smiling and frowned.
”What?” her brow crinkled. “Giles...”
Giles turned to face her, anger unmasked on his face,
“Do you have any idea what you've done? The forces you've harnessed, the lines you've crossed?”
”I thought you'd be ... impressed, or, or something.”
”Oh, don't worry. You've made a very deep impression.” Giles forced himself to take a deep breath. But words continued to spill out of his mouth, “Of everyone here, you were the one I trusted most to respect the forces of nature.”
”Are you saying you don't trust me?” she looked like he had slapped her in the face.
Giles looked down at Willow intensely, ignoring her hurt look.
“Think what you've done to Buffy.”
”I brought her back!”
“At incredible risk!”
”Risk? Of what? Making her deader?” sarcasm flew from her lips.
”Of killing us all. Unleashing hell on Earth, I mean, shall I go on?”
”No!” Willow stood up, defensive. “Giles, I did what I had to do. I did what nobody else could do.”
”Oh, there are others in this world who can do what you did. You just don't want to meet them,” he lowered his voice and turned away.
”No, probably not,” she admitted. “But ... well, they're the bad guys. I'm not a bad guy. I brought Buffy back into this world, a-and maybe the word you should be looking for is ‘congratulations,'” she stared back at the man she had once respected more than anyone in the world. She thought he would be the proudest of her accomplishment. But instead, here he was lecturing her like a child.
”Having Buffy back in the world makes me feel ... indescribably wonderful, but I wouldn't congratulate you if you jumped off a cliff and happened to survive.”
”That's not what I did, Giles.” She couldn't believe he was being so unreasonable.
”You were lucky,” his voice began to rise again.
Willow was getting angry now. He had no right to sweep in and judge her as if he were her watcher.
”I wasn't lucky. I was amazing. And how would you know? You weren't even there.”
”If I had been, I'd have bloody well stopped you. The magicks you channeled are more ferocious and primal than anything you can hope to understand.” He lost his temper completely, “and you are lucky to be alive, you rank, arrogant amateur!“
Giles angrily grabbed his towel and turned to leave.
”You're right,” Willow's anger turned to a white hot calm, causing him to pause at the door and look back at her. “The magicks I used are very powerful. I'm very powerful. And maybe it's not such a good idea for you to piss me off.” Power rolled off her in waves.
Giles stared at her, anger spreading over his entire body, along with a small knot of fear. When had she gotten so powerful? And when had her gentle affection and respect for him turned into something dark and foreign? Worry battled his anger until his concern won over. She needed his help. He had failed her by leaving for England and not noticing that she was headed down the wrong path with magic. Guilt stuck in his throat as they stared each other down.
Suddenly, Willow seemed to shake out of her new found aggression and back to her normal self.
“Come on, Giles, I-I don't want to fight. I…Let's not, okay? I'll think about what you said, and you…try to be happy Buffy's back.”
Her words stung with the truth that he wasn't completely happy that Buffy was back. He felt like the lowest of creatures. He should be nothing but elated. But something nagged at the back of his mind. Buffy just wasn't the same girl he had spent so many years training.
“We still don't know where she was…or what happened to her,” he spoke softly. “And I'm far from convinced that she's come out of all this undamaged.” He slipped out of the kitchen without waiting for Willow's response, anger still simmering in his belly along with the guilt and the other scramble of emotions that came out of his confrontation with Willow. Giles headed down into the basement for some time alone, to think.
When she was younger they had never fought. She had always yielded to his wisdom and had been the one he could count on of all the children. When Xander and Buffy acted foolhardy, Willow had always been there to help him find a solution to their latest predicament.
He remembered their first real argument like it was yesterday. She had asserted her opinion on the Shumash Indian Tribe as a typical college student would, idealistic and stubborn. But that had been different. That had been almost amusing. After the Shumash attack had ended, his first instinct had been to gather her in his arms and hug her with affection. Although that wouldn't have been appropriate, so he settled for helping her set the table for Thanksgiving dinner.
Their fight tonight was much different. His stomach clenched in uneasiness. Something was happening to Willow. She was delving too far into the magicks. He know more intimately than he ever dared share with the group, that magic was a dangerous friend, especially the black magic he had felt crackling around her, uncontrolled.
And if he were to be honest with himself, it also excited him, much in the way a recovered alcoholic's pulse rises at the site of a glass of their favorite libation. He had pushed down his desires to practice the dark arts for the last 20 years, only using magic when absolutely necessary. But Willow's power reminded him of the old days, when wild magic ruled his life and his relationships. His last fight with Ethan, as his friend, hadn't ended nearly as well as his skirmish with Willow. Although, he admitted to himself that he was quite a bit more antagonistic back in those days. Not to mention inappropriately righteous once he had seen the error of his ways. He couldn't really blame Ethan for what he had done… But Willow might just be salvageable yet. She was young and had a good heart beneath it all. And so smart.
Giles struggled with thoughts of wanting to help her and wanting to stay as far away from the temptation as possible. But she was Willow. And he loved her like his own daughter. No, not a daughter, he mused. He had always considered her more of an equal than the others, despite her lack of confidence when she was younger. Her intelligence awed him almost daily. Her compassion taught him lessons he needed to learn. And her youthful innocence had been so endearing. With a start, Giles realized that he was actually mourning the loss of that innocence.
His anger came not only from his fear that she would hurt herself, but also that she was changing before his eyes. She was growing into a powerful woman and witch. Not wanting to underestimate her, he couldn't rightfully say whether or not she could handle the dark forces she had been harnessing. He knew that he couldn't. But she had always surprised him.
He sat down on the day bed, leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. Maybe he should just mind his own business and let her make her own mistakes. Footsteps grew louder as someone descended down the cellar stairs.
“Giles?” Willow called, sounding uncertain.
“Yes?” He watched her approach him from across the dark room. She looked contrite and apologetic.
“I'm really sorry,” she wrung her hands together, “for what I said up there. I don't know what came over me.”
“It's been a long day for us all,” he patted the day bed next to him, motioning for her to join him. She sat down next to Giles, sitting with him shoulder to shoulder. They stared into the darkened basement together. “I'm sorry too,” he sighed. “I don't think I'm ready for you to be practicing so proficiently.”
“It was really scary, Giles,” she confessed in a small voice. “The whole time I wished you were there.”
“Really,” he raised his eyebrows and looked over at her. She turned to him, her face pale.
“Once I started the spell, it kind of – took over. I felt like I didn't have any control over myself.”
“Osiris is a very powerful source to invoke. Only the strongest of witches can handle his essence flowing through them,” he admitted, not wanting to encourage her, but not wanted to downplay the gravity of what she had done. “You are lucky you weren't killed.” His jaw clenched at the thought.
“I knew it was worth the risk, to get Buffy back,” she whispered. “The world needs her more than it needs me.”
At that, Giles turned his whole body toward her. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
“Willow, you mustn't think that,” he placed his hand over hers and squeezed it.
“But it's true,” her eyes shimmered and threatened to spill over. “Sunnydale would have been taken over by demons if she hadn't come back. I couldn't stop that. But at least I knew I could try to do the right thing. And I couldn't let her suffer in some hell dimension because I let her die,” a sob escaped her and she covered her face with her hands.
Shock reverberated down his body. He had no idea that Willow had blamed herself for Buffy's death. The notion was preposterous. If anyone were to blame, it was him, and he knew it. Buffy was his responsibility and he had failed her, not poor Willow.
He slid closer and put his arms around her as she cried into his shoulder. He hoped that his comforting noises and his hand rubbing her back would help calm her down. He certainly wasn't feeling remotely calm with her body pressed against his, her Willowy smell invading his senses.
“It wasn't your fault, Willow,” he murmured into her hair, which momentarily caused her to cry even harder. He tightened his hold on her and rocked her slowly in his arms. “It's ok, little one.”
Giles wondered at the range of emotions he had been through in the past 24 hours, much of it regarding Buffy, but most of it revolving around Willow. As he smoothed her hair and spoke words of comfort to her, she felt so right in his arms. He didn't want to let go.
But that was so wrong. She was still a child and he was old enough to be her father. Giles could only imagine what his own father would say. Lectures regarding responsibility and propriety, he ventured. Although, predictably, that brought out the rebellious spirit he reserved especially for his father's most impassioned speeches. Propriety be damned, whispered the primal part of his brain. Actually, if he were being honest with himself, he would admit that it wasn't his brain that was doing most of the thinking. If he held onto her much longer, he would have a lot of explaining to do; so he released her from his hold.
Looking slightly disheveled and very vulnerable, Willow pulled kleenex out of her pocket and blew her nose. After looking into her red eyes for a long moment he leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.
“I'm glad you didn't die, by the way,” the corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes sparkled with affection.
“Me too,” she managed a smile.
What she did next, took him completely off guard. Willow leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. Her lips were so soft, he registered in the back of his mind as his mouth opened to hers. Their tongues mingled slowly, sensuously for one long blissful moment, until someone started trudging down the cellar stairs.
Willow pulled back first, rocketing to her feet putting as much distance between them as possible by the time Dawn reached the bottom of the stairs. Giles' heart pounded in his ears. He felt as if he must be dreaming, but the taste of her still filled his mouth. The feeling of her warmth still tingled against his lips and his tongue.
But now the look of shock and dismay on Willow's face brought him down to reality, where she was once again out of his reach. She was in a unique place in her life now, with Tara, and everything else. Holding back his sadness, he walked passed her and back up to the living room. She deserved much better than him. He pushed the memory of her kiss way back, deep into his mind, saving it for a rainy day.
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