Wrong
By nightshift

The usual disclaimers. All hail Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. for making the world more interesting. None of the characters are mine. I own nothing except a beaten up 1992 Fort Escort. Want it? Take it. No, really, the doors don't lock and the tape deck doesn't work.
Spoilers: Um, yes. Up to halfway through Hell's Bells (Season 6). Then it takes a weird slide into my version of reality.
Distribution: If you want it, please ask. But flattery will get you everywhere. I do own this story and like to visit occasionally to make sure it has a good home.
Rating: R to be on the safe side-mostly for language. (most of the chapters probably PG-13. I'll make sure and mention at the beginning of a chapter if things slide into the NC-17 range, although I doubt it will happen.)
Title: Wrong
Author: nightshift
Email: kalliebailey@hotmail.com
Summary: Buffy's confused about Riley, upset about Spike, and worried about Dawn. Not to mention the whole "came back wrong" thing. Tara can't possibly be right, it's time for someone better versed in magic to take a look. Sounds like your cue, Giles.

He looked away, blushing. "What? Is it kinky or something?"

"No. It's just that this is more difficult than I anticipated. I hadn't realized just how detailed this scenario had become until I began describing it."

"What do you mean?"

"As I'm picturing it, suddenly your hair is shorter, like it is now. You're wearing a pair of faded denim shorts with a frayed hem and a sleeveless white blouse." She moved her hands to the ball of his foot. He exhaled explosively.

She froze, hands unmoving and eyes wide. "Did I hurt you?"

"I--I think I'd best stop right now."

"Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"The start of this fantasy involves feet. Toes, actually."

She giggled. "Toes? You're kidding, right?" He just looked at her. "Toes. Hunh." She cocked her head and looked at him. "Why toes? I mean, how toes? I never really thought of them in that context before. What exactly...?" She looked at him, intrigued. "Giles, now you have to tell me. I just can't seem to wrap my brain around the entire concept."

He swallowed, trying to regain his composure. Then he unfocused his eyes and looked away at nothing, concentrating. "You're sitting on the table, barefoot. You've just finished polishing your toenails a pale shade of pink and are putting the lid back on the container. I see your sandals and your bag on the floor underneath the chair." She began massaging his foot again, fascinated by the description. "You tell me that you're not patrolling tonight, that you don't want to ruin your pedicure. I ask how long it will take to dry and you say it will take all night unless someone blows your nails dry. I kneel at your feet and take one of your ankles in my hands. I raise your foot up to my mouth and start gently blowing over your toes." Her hands stopped their movement and she leaned forward, mesmerized. "When they are dry, I start kissing your toes, sucking and nibbling them until you start moaning. I switch my attention to your feet until you're breathing in tiny gasps, then I nibble up to the inside of your ankle, gently caressing your calf."

She let out a ragged breath. "Please, Giles, you have to stop now." She set his foot down on the mat and started rubbing her hands up and down her arms. She was breathing heavily, her eyes glassy. "I don't know what will happen if you don't stop now."

His eyes focused and his attention snapped back to her. "What's wrong?"

"The skin buzzies. They're back and they brought friends. Lots and lots of friends." She looked at him, raw need in her eyes. "I don't want to do something bad, but I've got to DO something. I don't want to hit you, to hurt you. Giles, what am I gonna do?" He sat upright and reached out for her. She crawled into his lap, shaking, and buried her face in his neck. He rocked her, murmuring words of comfort. That was the last thing she remembered.

Gradually she became aware of several things. First, the feeling that her skin was too small and she had to do something was gone. Second, she was very thirsty and her throat hurt. Next, she was exhausted, lying flat on her back. Finally, Giles was holding her hand and singing something. She managed to rasp his name. "Giles?" He jumped a little.

"Buffy? How are you feeling?"

"Tired, thirsty, throat hurts. Why were you singing?"

"You asked me to. You were delirious, you kept asking for me. Shortly after that, you begged me to hold on to your hand, you said that you weren't attached to this world. Then you told me that you couldn't feel your hands and you needed me to sing to you so that you'd know we were still here."

"How long was…what time is it?"

"It's almost six o'clock."

"I've gotta get back home, I have to wake Dawn up and get her to school." She tried to sit up, but he was able to stop her with a palm to her shoulder.

"Buffy, in one of your quiet moments I telephoned Willow. She's going to explain things to Dawn and make sure she's gone to school. You're tired and weaker than you should be. Lie back and rest."

She looked up at him, blinking owlishly. "I'm thirsty." He rose, disappearing into the back room. He returned with two bottles of water. He helped her into a sitting position, and made sure she was strong enough to drink without drowning. She emptied the first bottle and handed it back to him. "Giles, did I…"

"You didn't hit me. Almost cracked some ribs with your Slayer strength, but strictly by accident."

"I mean, I didn't get…um...physical in any other way?"

"No. The worst thing that happened was when you started screaming that you were dead. You were so exhausted by then that I was able to keep you from hurting yourself."

She raised her hand up to his face and cupped it with her fingers. "Poor Giles, you didn't get to sleep much at all. I never finished that massage, either."

He leaned into her touch. She could feel his smile. "I did get to have your hands all over me, no doubt fueling many more fantasies." Then he closed his eyes and looked away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say...I suppose I'm too tired to think clearly at the moment."

She smiled at him. "I don't remember much of what happened after I got the buzzies, but I do know that you were here for me. Holding me down, comforting me, holding my hand, and what were you singing by the way? I didn't recognize the song."

"I don't recall, I sang everything I could remember. By then I had been singing for a couple of hours. Do you need some more water?" She shook her head no. He opened the second bottle and drained it.

"If I promise to wake you up if I feel worse, would you sleep for a while?"

"Not out here in the middle of the shop. It's too exposed for me to relax during daylight hours."

"Fine, we can put the mat back where it belongs and you can sleep in the training room. I'll put a 'do not disturb sign' on the door."

"What would people think? Especially with the massage oil and the warmer still out. I should be fine without any sleep. It wouldn't be the first time I've done without."

"Giles, I don't care what people think. You can't go without sleep. I'm going to put things away. Would you take the mat back into the training room? Pretty please? I really don't feel up to it." They cleaned up in silence. Giles dragged the mat back through the training room door and Buffy put away the warmer and left a note that she owed money for the oil. She didn't bother with the books; they were probably going to get dragged out again when Tara got there.

Giles was still in the training room, so she went in to see if he needed any help. He was leaning his head against the wall, fisted hands in his pockets, eyes closed. "Giles, if you're not going to sleep, why don't we go have some breakfast? I-I still don't have any money, but I promise not to eat too much."

He looked over at her. "Buffy, last night...it wasn't, I mean you didn't feel...you know I would never ask..." Buffy looked at him, perplexed.

"Giles, it's your native language. I'll answer your question but you have to ask it in English."

"Last night wasn't in repayment for dinner, was it?" Her eyes widened and she whirled around, heading for the exit. At his strangled "Buffy" she stopped and slowly turned around, hurt evident on her face. "I didn't mean to insult you. Please..." He cautiously advanced toward her, slowly raising his left hand. She stood, watching him warily with tear-filled eyes. "It's just that you are so extraordinary. So..." Hesitantly, he reached toward her cheek.

"Broken. There's this Buffy-shaped box and inside it are all these shattered pieces that everyone keeps poking at to see what's wrong with them. I look like Buffy, sound like Buffy, fight like Buffy, but I don't feel like Buffy. Most of the time, I don't feel at all." She leaned into his hand. "I feel rage, frustration, lust, and anticipation for the kill when I'm having a really good fight. Just the dark, angry emotions. Last night was the first time I've laughed since I came back." She moved along his hand, sliding her head against it until his fingertips rested in her hair. He brought his right hand up to mirror his left, tangling both in her hair. She closed her eyes, enjoying the physical contact. "So, how about you buy me a 'no obligations' breakfast? I seem to be starving."

He disentangled his hands from her hair and let them drop to his sides. "Before we leave, I should call Tara and tell her to bring her books since my library has nothing to offer. I'd like to get a shower and change clothes at some point today. Aside from that, I have nothing planned all day except research. Breakfast with you sounds like a high point in an otherwise dreary day."

She smiled at him fondly. "That's my Giles. Still a whole paragraph for a one word answer. Go call Tara, I'm gonna try to get my hair to resemble something besides a rat's nest. Then we can go eat."

Buffy examined herself in the mirror. At some point last night, she had bitten her bottom lip almost through. She had scratch marks all up her arms and bruises on both her shoulders and her wrists. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was blotchy. She did damage repair, but cold water could only do so much. She walked out of the bathroom to find Giles patiently waiting for her. "I'm ready to eat. But I don't know if you'll want to be seen in public with me or not."

"Always." He smiled. "You look lovely. Do you have any place in mind?"

"Some place either on the way to your hotel or my house--I need clean clothes and a shower, too. On second thought, can we shower before breakfast? I feel really icky, like I fought all night long."

"You did; we both did. I'm quite bruised and very glad that even in extremis you seemed to respond to my voice. We'll stop at your house first, then my hotel. Would you mind very much eating at the hotel restaurant again?"

"No, the food was pretty good. I'm to the point now where my shoes are starting to look yummy." She reached out and grabbed his hand. "C'mon Giles. The sooner we get clean, the sooner I can eat. A hungry Slayer is a cranky Slayer and we don't want a cranky Slayer, do we?" She dragged him towards the door.

When they arrived at Buffy's house, Giles seated himself on the couch to wait for Buffy. Willow came downstairs in her pajamas. "Oh, I...uh...shower," she squeaked and then retreated back up the stairs.

A few minutes later Buffy came back down, a small gym bag in her hands. "Giles, Dawn is in the shower right now, then Willow has dibs. Since they both have places to be this morning; I figured that was fair. Can I just take my clean clothes and shower in your room? There won't be any hot water left by the time they're done." She took his hand and led him toward the door. "Bye Willow, Dawn. I'm gonna be at the Magic Box all day researching with Giles. Dawn, come straight there after school."

Willow called down to her. "Buffy, Dawn was going to spend the night at Janice's tonight. Big science project, team effort. You agreed to it before the grounding, remember?"

"Oh, I forgot. Tell her I said 'bye' and that I'm trying to get better. I'll see you at the Magic Box after school." Giles went to the car and opened her door. She got in and he closed it. When he climbed in his side, she smiled at him. "Giles, have I ever mentioned how nice it is to have someone open doors for me? It makes me feel all girly, something I don't get to feel very often with the slaying and demons and all." He looked away, paying marked attention to his driving in the nonexistent Sunnydale traffic.

"If I had my way, you would be treated with respect wherever you went. You have a destiny and a job that no one else can perform. You deserve so much more than you receive."

She grinned. "If it means I can get a regular paycheck, I'm all for the receiving. Has the Council ever considered paying Slayers? I would be willing to train prospective Slayers—or better yet, Watchers and take them out on patrols as a graduation exercise. I mean, who better to learn from than the voice of experience?"

Giles looked at her. "Would you be looking for my replacement, then?"

"Nobody could replace you. Besides, isn't there some sort of 'three Watchers and you're out' rule the Council has? Technically I've had four. Merrick, you, Wesley, and you again. I guess I'm old and set in my Slayer ways--I only want my Giles. If I can't have you, I'd rather go it alone even if it kills me." They pulled into the hotel parking lot.

He turned his head and looked at her. Her face was grim. "Buffy, my leaving was not an invitation for you to go out and get yourself killed." He turned off the ignition and turned to her. "We're both tired and hungry. Right now isn't the time to discuss this. Let's defer this conversation until after we eat. I fear I might say something unforgivable." She glared at him, but then got a speculative look on her face.

"Poor Giles, my mood swings have gotten worse, haven't they?"

"I would like to state that I in no way wish to answer that question affirmatively."

"I'll take that as a yes. I'm sorry. I guess I really don't play well with others recently. The mood swings are getting wilder and the buzzies are getting closer together."

They arrived at his room. "Now with the strangeness. Bad enough I'm going into your hotel room, now I'm going in there with luggage."

"Will you be uncomfortable with me in there after last night? I can wait outside if you will feel safer." She snorted as he unlocked the door and swung it open.

"Giles, this is you. I'm not afraid of you. I'm not embarrassed by you. I'm not disgusted by you. I feel safer with you around than I ever will with you somewhere else. When are you going to get that?" She walked into his room and he followed, closing the door behind him. "It's your shower, you first."

"You already have your clothes. You first." She shrugged and stepped into the bathroom.

On the way down to breakfast, he stopped her. "You do realize that you are going to eat something. I am not going to watch you waste away to nothing while I'm trying to find a spell to help you."

She smiled at him. "Giles, you might not believe this, but since you've been back I've actually been hungry. I'll eat, I promise. I also promise to try and control my temper. I will need some help with something, though."

"What would that be?" He looked at her, curious.

"I know you're not big on the PDA's, but if I get too buzzy or restless today would you hold my hand please? I know the anger and the buzzies are coming faster now, and I don't want to lose my temper and slay the waiter or something."

"Let me know if it becomes necessary." Breakfast was uneventful, no wait staff were hurt in the performance of their duties.

They made their way to his room to pick up Buffy's things. "Okay, last night and this morning I ate way more food than I have in the last month. I'm stuffed and tired. Thanks again for picking up the check, Giles. I just wish Doublemeat served breakfast."

"Whatever for? I thought you despised even the thought of the food there." He looked at her, baffled.

"Because they still have my last paycheck, and you would make excellent backup if I tried again to pick it up. It's not much, but it is mine. They keep avoiding my phone calls, lying about when the payroll manager is in, generally giving me the runaround. They've told me three different times that the check was mailed when I made a special trip to get it. I know I have at least twenty hours of overtime on that check, I wanted to make sure I had enough for a good wedding present for Xander and Anya." He put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"It's no wonder you're having mood swings. There's been a lot of frustration in your life recently." She put her head against his chest.

"Yeah, but there was an up side to working there. The good part of working at Doublemeat was that I wasn't required to think. I just had to show up and follow orders. Catatonia wasn't an issue as long as I did what I was told. I could zone out and look like every other employee there." She snaked her arm around his waist. "Can't slay on autopilot. Bad things happen. Not that I was too worried about it earlier."

He squeezed her shoulders. "Buffy, promise me you're being cautious on patrol."

"Why should I? I had made my peace with the world. They dragged me back. Dawn's being obnoxious and will probably be taken away from me, Spike took serious advantage--sorta, and you left. I really don't seem to care anymore. Not like I haven't been dead twice before. It's very peaceful, I miss it. No nightmares, no skin buzzies, no weird cravings for brutal sex, no sucky jobs, no..."

"Buffy, please." She stopped abruptly and swung in toward him, wrapping her arms around him.

"Giles, I think I need one of those rage preventing hugs. I'm feeling all strange again."

"I'm here." He held her and gently stroked her hair. "As long as it takes, I'll be here."

to be continued...