By Stephanie Biek
Title: Carry Me
Author: ;) Steph
e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org (simple enough, heh?)
Summary: Giles remembers Buffy…
Spoilers: The Gift
Disclaimer: Okay, I’ve seen this thing written enough times, let me see.. Don’t own them, I wish I did. Joss is awesome, B/G forever, all that good stuff.
Feedback: Oh, yes please!
Notes: Please be gentle, this is my first time! Sorry for the mucho angst, but I can’t get it out of my head! I would like to dedicate this to all the wonderful fic authors who have made me want to join your world…. Gail, Gabi, Tricia, Selenay, etc. You guys are wonderful!
In the end, he carried her. Picked her small frame up, cradling her briefly in his arms, and carried her out into the sunlight.
Giles nursed another Scotch, smelling her perfume on his shirt. Real or imagined, he refused to take it off. If this was all that was left of her, then he would keep it close to him, as close as she had never been to him, but for a scant few moments.
Tears coursed unchecked over his cheeks, collecting on his already damp collar.
There had been silence as they moved as one to gather around Buffy’s still form. A great rushing wave of stillness as they held their breath, waiting for her to get up, to dust herself off and give them her patented 100 watt smile. When the seconds ticked by, and Spike collapsed to the floor in grief, he could feel it happening. The world had been saved with her sacrifice; their lives spared in one fell blow. But his world was breaking apart; life growing gray and dim before his eyes as the first sobs tore from his throat. His destiny was finished. He was useless now, truly alone. There was nothing else but her.
They had buried her earlier in the afternoon, the tattered remains of their Scooby Gang. It was funny how no one would utter the words Buffy and death in the same sentence. Giles knew how childish it was, but he still clung to some semblance of hope. That she would walk up behind them, hair shining golden in the sunlight, her eyes sparkling in a way he had thought was lost forever to her with these past few months.
But as they stood, a huddled, grieving mass, nothing happened. No puff of fairy dust, though there was some smoke coming from under the ragged blanket Spike had wrapped around his head carelessly. There were no choirs of angels, or rich laughter that only belonged to her. There was nothing… only the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Giles stood at last, putting the Scotch aside, and dragged himself into bed, her scent drifting with him, driving him almost mad, but also comforting him. He didn’t bother to get undressed, just lay spread over on his back, his eyes filled with dancing prisms of light from the moon filtering in his window.
Sleep claimed him at last, filled him with visions of her, fighting, crying, and smiling at him with love in her eyes.
He dreamed of her opening up her eyes as she was held to his chest. Her lips curving up in a smile for him, and whispering, "Thank you, Giles."
In the end, only Giles could carry her.