Empty Prayers
I Pray the Lord My Soul to Keep 

TITLE:  I Pray the Lord My Soul to Keep  (Part Two 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 nice in between stage of a strong PG-13 and a mild R.  You've got your violence, sexual implications, and pounds upon pounds of angst.  So if this isn't your thing just walk away.
FEEDBACK:  My mailbox was swimming in feedback for part one, and I absolutely loved it.  The only problem is I think I'm addicted.  Please don't make me go through withdrawal people.
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 at 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?
NOTE and 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.  I am sorry for not having posted this on Tuesday as I planned, but my computer malfunctioned, and then probably the worst week I've had in a long while struck.  I can officially state that I have been to hell, and I know that you can't return from it without the help of good friends.  So for accompanying me through the hell that was this week, and us still coming out on top
here's to you Britt.

I Pray the Lord My Soul to Keep  by  Tevye

The diner was almost empty, and the harsh light from the lamps accentuated the thin layer of grunge that covered every surface.  In the dirty, gritty atmosphere of the underbelly of the city, Buffy and Giles were beginning to feel right at home.

They had hotel hopped for weeks, going from one run-down shack to the next.  After seeing Buffy when he first found her, he knew that going home immediately wasn't an option.  It would be bad enough taking a weak slayer to the Hellmouth, but dragging her back into an environment where she would be emotionally attacked, as well as physically, was akin to committing murder.  And she would be emotionally attacked.

Willow and Xander were still bitter over her leaving, not that he could blame them.  For weeks he had felt the same anger, the same loss of purpose.  But they hadn't seen her, hadn't heard her story, and even if they did, he wasn't sure they'd understand just how much it hurt to kill a loved one, or to be responsible for the death of a friend.  He wasn't even sure that he understood, but he accepted, and that was all that seemed to matter to her.

Before leaving, he could sense them choosing their attacks, making their battle plans for when she returned.  They didn't even realize it, but they were.  Still, she would have been able to take their emotional pain because she was certain of their eventual acceptance.

It was her mother she was scared of, scared of rejection, scared of being told to leave again.  Joyce Summers was a woman who puzzled him. How anyone could go for so long without seeing the remarkable spirit of her daughter, was beyond him.  It had screamed out to him from the first moment Buffy had stepped in the library.  But, despite her blindness, Ms. Summers was obviously a woman who loved her daughter very much.  She had wanted to know about every search, every lead.  The only problem was she still saw Buffy as the child she was no longer, and wanted to protect her from the night time terrors which were her calling.  No, Buffy would not be able to face both her mother and her friends immediately.

So they ran the other direction, heading to Northern California--land of friendly people and hotels far beyond his budget.  Dirt, grime, and that horrible Pinesol smell had penetrated their world.  < I going to have to get some of that when we return. >

It was going to be hard to return, he knew that.  In the past few weeks he and Buffy had become dependent on one another.  They had hardly been out of each other's company for more than the few minutes it took to use the bathroom or take a shower.  Giles couldn't afford two rooms, and neither one wanted to be alone, so they had taken to sleeping together, curling up under the thin sheets in search of the warmth and comfort that only the other could provide.

"Mmph, Giles do you want all of yours because you know with all the money that we don't have, we shouldn't . . ."  Her voice trailed off as she dug into the pile of eggs still on her plate.

Giles sighed and pushed his plate over to her, "Waste not, want not. Heaven forbid the slayer should go hungry while fighting the forces of evil."

"Ooh, and recovering don't forget that."

"Heaven forbid."  He repeated.  "Would you like something else?"  Her head perked up.

"Really, you sure, cause with the money and all?"

He smiled,  "You did bag your first two successive vamps in a great while.  I think that calls for celebration."

Her face lit up.  "Okay, um chocolate pie it is, but only if you share."  He signaled to the waitress.

"Ugh this is horrible,"  Buffy complained as she brought another spoonful to her mouth.

"Absolutely,"  He concurred licking the final piece of chocolate off his fork.

She stared down at the clean plate.  Then giggled, "We're never going to get used to real food again, are we?"

Giles smiled in response, "Never."

*****

They walked lazily back to the hotel staring up at the stars.  Their hands had sought out each other instinctively, wanting the contact as the irrational reassurance that the other was still there.  Finally Buffy spoke what she had known since dinner that night.

"We're moving again, aren't we?"  Giles didn't even look down, just continued to stare straight ahead.

"Yes."  She clutched at his hand a little tighter, as she uttered the question which always followed.

"Away or towards?"

"Towards."  He held his breath wondering how she would take it.  His answer was not well.

"No.  Away.  I don't think I can go back yet."  He stopped still holding

onto her hand, forcing her to face him.

"You're going to have to sometime."

"Not now."  He sighed.

"All right.  Away it is."

*****

It had been a long night.  Buffy was up to three vampires a night, but for some reason they couldn't find a third victim.  < San Francisco, of all the places for vamps to be quiet. >  Giles mused tiredly as he leaned against the wall.

"Buffy . . ."  He begged,  "I think we can safely say that no one is going to show.  It's okay to go back."

"Nope."  She grunted and moved down the alley.  "I think there's one this way.  I can smell the filth."

Giles groaned, but moved to follow.  "I think it's me.  We've been at this for five hours.  Longer than any other night."

"C'mon,  you're the one who said I shouldn't let my edge slip."  She stalked on knowing that he'd follow.  He always did.  Ever since she had begun to regain strength he came out on the hunt with her, never missing a night.

Ostensibly, it was to make sure she didn't over extend herself, but she was certain it was partly because he simply didn't want to have to go without her for so long.  Not that she minded, she reciprocated the feeling.  Without him she felt alone, with him she felt like she could do anything.

She knew the vampire was there before she saw it.  Moving too fast for the creature to be warned, she grabbed his shoulders and tossed him against the wall.  And then she stopped.

Giles saw his slayer freeze up, and a chill of fear rippled through him.  When he followed her fixed stare, he saw what had made her so still.  The vampire, which was picking itself up, could have been Angel.

The resemblance wasn't perfect.  In fact, he didn't look that much like the demon which had caused them both so much pain, but it was close enough.  The worst was his eyes.  They were the same beautiful color, and the same cold cruel glare.  He snarled, and she snapped.

The vampire didn't have a ghost of a chance.  The Slayer was on him before he ever made it to his feet, hitting him with more force and passion than was necessary.

"I hate you.  I hate you."  She continued to pummel him muttering the phrase over and over.  Accentuating every statement by slamming his head against the pavement, and she showed no signs of stopping.

Buffy felt the hands on her shoulders, but she continued to fight, to beat at the air.  Her elbow came back into his stomach, "Let me go." She ground out and he released her.  Her tired, frustrated frame fell upon the vamp again with fresh hostility.

Giles watched saddened as she knocked the vampire into unconsciousness, and still continued to hit him.  When her weary form finally gave out, he pulled her off the creature and calmly staked it into oblivion.

"Come home."  The words were quiet, but commanding and she obeyed.

*****

When they reached the hotel room, she headed to the shower, shedding her clothes along the way.  Her silence spoke louder than anything else.

Giles stared for a long while at the closed door, listening to the flow of the shower, knowing that as she washed away the dirt and blood, she was working hard to make her feelings flow down the drain as well.  He made a decision.  There was no getting around it, no matter how much it hurt both of them, she was going to have to face what she was doing to herself.

Buffy extended her hand out of the door and waited for the oversized T-shirt which she knew he would hand her.  It came, and she pulled it over her head as she walked out of the bathroom ringing out her hair.

Looking up, she met his eyes and instantly knew something was coming.

"What happened tonight Buffy . . ."

"Yeah, I know.  It can't happened again."  She avoided his eyes, knowing that if he got a chance to look into hers, he would be able to see everything.

"It has to be talked about."

"No, it doesn't.  I'm dealing with it.  I've dealt with it.  Consider tonight closure."

"I consider it an opening."

"Well don't. I don't need intervention."  He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"If you don't talk, I won't let you out into the field again."  Her head snapped up in anger.

"You can't do that.  It's all I have left."  Giles hand wrapped around her wrist.

"No, you have me.  If I hadn't been there you could have been killed. Don't ever think that all you are is a fighting machine, you're so much more than that."

"I don't think I am anymore."

"If that's what you think, you're losing your soul Buffy."

He rolled with the punch he saw coming, but didn't release her wrist. His grip became tighter, and he dragged her onto the bed, his other hand reaching for the knife which he had begun to carry in his back pocket, as protection against terrors of the night which Buffy couldn't stake.

"Shut them out.  Shut out your emotions, but don't shut me out Buffy.  I won't let you."  He moved behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist.  She fought him every step of the way, but her strength had been used up in the night's battle.

"Your still weak Buffy.  An old man can hold you down."  His voice was harsh, thick with emotion and pain.  "Are you trying to die?"

She was still fighting not admitting defeat.  "What if I am?  It doesn't involve you."  Before she knew what was happening, he slammed her wrist down onto to the bed and cut it.

"Then die."  He challenged holding her wrist out in front of her.  "Give up on life if you're so ready for death."  Her wrist was released, and his arms came around her body, so that she could see clearly as he slowly deliberately slit his own wrist.  His fingers covered in their blood twined with hers, and he extended both their arms out, so that she was forced to watch the blood flow.

"Make your choice Buffy.  But don't fantasize that the only one it involves is you.  I won't let you give yourself that false peace.  It involves me."  He wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her sobbing body against his as he whispered.  "No matter where you go.  I will follow.  No matter where.  I made that promise, and I won't go back on it.  So where do we go from here?"

For several moments she simply looked blankly down at their hands, clasped together in such a way that it was difficult to tell whose fingers belonged to who.  The crimson stain, which covered both of them, was a harsh reminder of their own mortality.  His words an echo from that night when he had found her, still had the same effect on her. "You'd do that for me?"  Her voice held a note of disbelief, as the tears began to roll down her face.  "Someone would do that for me."

Without releasing her hand, he wrapped both his arms around and rocked her.  "Always."

She touched her other hand to their intertwined ones.  "Then I've finally found the strength to live."

Finally Buffy let her eyes meet his, and silent promises passed between them.  Although she was silent when she got up, Giles understood that he danger had passed.  Buffy returned from the bathroom with her wrist bandaged and alcohol from the first aid kit in hand.  He moved to take it from her, but she shook her head.

"Let me."  She held out her hand and applied the alcohol to his wrist. He winced slightly as it stung the open wound.  At his flinch, the tears sprung afresh to Buffy's eyes, she didn't want to hurt him.  She'd hurt him far too much already.  All she wanted to do was heal him, as he'd heal her.

Giles rested his hand over hers, taking over wrapping the gauze around his wrist.  When he finished, he gathered her now sobbing form to him. She looked up at him, the tears on her face shimmering in the moonlight.  He began to brush them away with kisses which were gentle, undemanding, but no longer chaste.  They burned her skin with a passionate inner fire.

Buffy felt a wave of indefinable emotions wash over her, as Giles continued to kiss away her tears, and it was her lips that found his when they met.

The kiss was unlike anything Buffy had ever experienced, somehow it was gentle and rough, chaste and passionate, undemanding but full of need all at once.  They poured all of their emotions, both joyful and painful, into each other.

Giles lay still as she ran her fingers along the scars on his chest. She ran her fingers over each imperfection reverently.  It was her own form of sacred worship, as she took it upon herself to trace the history of all the pain this man, whom she admired so much, had gone through for her.  When she reached the newest scars on his stomach, she paused running her fingers over them again and again, letting where they had come from sink in.  She began to kiss her way along the fresh scars trying to heal wounds which would never close.

Despite his vow to initiate nothing, to simply follow Buffy's will, Giles couldn't take her attention to those wounds anymore.  He dragged her up and kissed her again, to let her know that she had not done anything wrong.

They sunk into each other, neither one sure that they should being doing this, or even that this was truly what they wanted.  All they knew was that now, in this moment, the only time that Watchers and Slayers had to live in, they needed what comfort and love the other had to offer.

When they came together it was with the desperation of two people who had been alone for too long, and with the quiet, imperfect, yet undemanding, and absolute love which only they truly understood.

*****

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