Empty Prayers
Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

TITLE:  Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep  (Part One of   Empty Prayers)
AUTHOR:  Tevye
E-MAIL:  anatevka44@yahoo.com
SPOILERS:  Becoming (Yes, I am so far behind that I am still stuck in season two, but oh well)
SUMMARY:  What if Giles found Buffy before she came home?
RATING:  We're at a PG rating right now actually it's G but we're heavy on the angst.  Oh heck, we're wading in angst.
FEEDBACK:  I'm not doing this for my health people  (Okay, I am doing this to keep the voices in my head from getting crank, but please send feedback it makes them happy)
DISTRIBUTION:  Oh please, Oh please, Oh please, I love to see my stuff posted.  Just tell me where it is (So I can go look it and gloat to myself. )
DISCLAIMER:  They're all mine.  Okay they're not, but I can dream can't I.  All right onto reality.  All hail Joss, Joss is god.  Hearing the enthusiasm?
DEDICATION: This is written for Britt, who I just got interested in this thing we call fandom.  Welcome to my obsessed little world, please check your sanity at the door.  For so many things, that if I listed them all they would be longer than this fic, I thank you.


Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep (Empty Prayers  pt. 1)  by Tevye

The cold chill of the night bit into her wasted, thin form as she sank against the rough brick of the building, resting her head against the space which she had claimed as her own.  The other shadows of the night-time streets shifted away, having learned long ago that she was good for neither sympathy nor companionship.  If someone had taken the time to look beyond the dirt smudged face or bedraggled hair, they would

have seen the beauty that once was and the pride that still remained. It was that pride that kept her hungry and waif-like, for it certainly wasn't lack of offers both pure and impure.

Buffy stared up at the stars which could barely be seen in the ambient light of the city-those same stars which had shone so brilliantly in her

previous life of friends and monsters and safety-and waited in vain for the sleep which she knew would not come, which had not come in weeks. To be honest with herself, she hadn't let it come for when it did, when it stole upon her silently and bludgeoned her into unconsciousness she saw faces of the ones she had left behind twisted into horrid images, and she relived those last few minutes, before his descent and hers, again.

She felt the man sit down beside her, but didn't turn.  Instead she continued to stare up at the ghost-like stars, ignoring the form in the hopes that he would catch the clue that she wasn't for sale, and wasn't ready to be saved, whichever one he happened to fancy himself, maybe a little bit of both.

"Do they speak to you?  Tell you anything?  I'd always hoped they'd speak to me.  Tell me what do, when I was lost."  The soft English tones of his voice brought tears to her eyes.  Not even turning to look, or pausing to think the Slayer let her run-down body collapse into the waiting, warm arms of her Watcher which she instinctively knew would be there.

*****

Giles dipped the washcloth into cool water and ran it along his Slayer's face.  She thrashed under his touch and then became still as her mind descended again into the fevered dreams that plagued it.

"Shh, Shh," He murmured.  "I'm here.  I won't leave.  You're safe."  He knew his constant reassurance fell on deaf ears, yet he couldn't keep from talking, wanting her to hear his voice to know that she wasn't alone.

"Angel . . ."  Her voice cried out in intense pain, and on reflex Giles removed his hand at the name.  "No, don't go . . ."  Even though he knew that the cries were in response to whatever was going on in her mind, it was as though she called specifically for him.  He felt a rise of disgust in his breast at his pettiness and returned the contact of the cloth. She stilled at the renewed contact, but her face remained flushed and her breathing labored.

Hour after hour it was the same.  The tiny body would shift restlessly, unaware of the world around her, only conscious of whatever private battle was going on inside.  Then she would descend into a stillness so like death that Giles was glad for her ragged breathing to reassure him that she still remained with him.

He didn't move from her side until noon the next day, his weariness finally winning the battle with his dedication, he descended into his own haven of sleep for a brief but intense period.  When he came to, he resumed his efforts to bring her fever down.

*****

Her hot sweat-slicked body shivered against his as he lifted her out of the alcohol bath.  As he ran a towel along her limbs to dry her, the frailty of his Slayer's body stood out to him.  Bones which he had never felt before were prominent now, and the once muscular body was slowly wasting away.  A ragged breath ripped through her as he pulled his large T-shirt over her, and carried her back to the hotel bed.

For a brief moment, as he placed the now fragile form back into the bed, covered in the fresh sheets he had insisted on obtaining, her eyes flickered open.  The sharp blue eyes, which he had remembered so well, were now glazed over their color faded into a sickly, watery blue.  Yet she seemed to see him.

"Giles."  His name on her lips brought a leap of joy in his heart, but it faded as she slipped once again into her fevered nightmares.  "Save. Giles.  Angel.  Be hurt.  Have to get him out.  If he dies . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she became fitful.  He brushed a strand of limp hair out of her face.  The whispered reassurances began again.

"I'm safe.  You won.  He can't hurt anyone anymore . . ."

*****

It wasn't until three a.m. the next morning that her fever broke. Buffy's shallow breathing, became regular and deep, and her flushed face began to return to its normal color.

Giles' heart had stopped each time that she showed signs of regaining consciousness only to fall each time she sank back into her fevered dreams.  This time, wary of it being real he steeled himself for the fitful moans to return, only allowing the ache in his heart to be calmed when she had remained peaceful for a full hour.

It was another hour before she regained any semblance of consciousness. Her eyes flickered open trying to acquaint themselves to the light and their strange surroundings.

"Giles?"  He gripped her hand a little tighter to let her know he was there, in case she couldn't see him.

"I'm here.  I'm here."  He could barely make her out as the tears sprang to his eyes.  All this time, all these months of looking, of laying up at night wondering where she was, he had never let himself cry, never shed a tear.  Now all his fears because of her, anger at her, pain over her, love for her, all the emotions he had denied himself in the passionate, relentless search he had undergone came boiling to the surface, and he cried.

Her arms reached towards him, trying to pull his sobbing form too her, but she was still too weak.  Unable to do anything else, she rested her hands loosely on his shoulders and let her own tears come.  Then his arms were wrapped around her, clutching at her out of some desperate, irrational fear that she would disappear once more.  Buffy returned the embrace with the same intensity though it lacked the force.  Her silent reassurance that all his fears were unfounded.

They clung to each other, and wept uncontrollably, both for themselves and the one they held.

"I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."  Buffy's voice barely rose above a whisperas she clutched at her watcher.

"No, no don't talk.  Don't think about that.  Everything's all right now.  Just rest."  He laid her back down on the bed and went sit back on

the chair where he had been keeping his vigil.  "You're not out of the woods yet."  He murmured smiling for the first time in months.  It was her soft whimper that stopped him.

"Please?"  She begged.  "Don't leave."  He closed his eyes and for the briefest of moments some inner bitterness considered denying her request.  Just let her feel a bit of the pain, a bit of the terror he had endured for so long, but he hadn't the stomach for it.  He could never deny her anything.

Now he saw himself through her eyes for what he truly was-a pathetic, bitter old man who couldn't let go of the wrongs done to him, who hid from the truth, from the truth of his own feelings.  It stopped now. Folding her into his arms he let her frail form sink into his, and he let go.

*****

The next few hours were difficult.  Yet as they worked together, it seemed easier than all the months they had spent apart.

Her body was dehydrated, rejecting all the liquids which Giles tried to ply it with.  Once she had regained conscious, the rest of the night was spent curled up in the bathroom as they tried to get her to keep anything down.

He held her hair away from her face as the dry heaves wracked through her once more.  His hand remained on her back rubbing in small circles, more as a gesture of comfort than for any good it was doing.  When the wretching finally stopped, he drew her into his arms and rocked her as he cleaned her face.

"Now that wasn't so bad was it?"

"No.  It was ten times worse.  I hate being sick."  She grumbled.

"Shh.  You've tried to keep slaying, haven't you." She could have mistaken it for a question, but it wasn't.  He knew her well enough to know.  So she kept silent, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

"A Slayer going with no adequate sleep or food.  No wonder you've worn yourself down."  He drew her a little closer, shifting his weight to help her up and lead her to bed.

"You forgot adequate support."  She sighed as she relaxed into him.  He moved on the bed so that she would be comfortable against him, and then rested his head on the pillows which he had propped up on the head board.

"Well, Slayers have worked without Slayerettes before."  He reflected wryly.

"No,"  She shook her head against him.  "You.  You're my support.  I can do without everything else Giles.  Just not without you."

Buffy curled up instinctively drawing herself closer to his warmth. "You found me.  Just when I needed to be found, you found me."  She stated, the tears springing anew.  A cough racked through her body, but she continued on afraid she wouldn't say everything she wanted while she had the chance.  "It's funny.  I had lost my reason to live.  Now I've
found it again, and I'm not sure I have the strength to."

Giles clutched her to his chest.  "No, you're too strong.  You'll live, and I'm never leaving.  Wherever you go, I'm following."  He brushed a kiss across her forehead.  It was chaste, but passionate, and as his lips pressed themselves to her skin, she felt marked.

Buffy sighed in pleasure.  She belonged to someone.  His whispered words penetrated her mind as she drifted off.  "No matter where you go.  I will follow."

The moonlight spilled through the window onto the two forms that held each other.  Slayer and Watcher clung to each other in desperation as they slept peacefully for the first time in weeks.

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