Helpless? Not Quite...
By Jacqui

Title: Helpless? Not Quite.
Author: Jacqui
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: They're not mine, no matter how hard I wish before I blow out the candles. I just wanted to play. Don't sue, I don't own anything but my nuerosis.
Notes: This is my obligatory "Helpless" rewrite. It gets a bit naughty, so if you are under 17 please play by the rules and get an adult to read it aloud while you're in the room.

Feedback: Please. Pretty please. I'm so desperate for feedback, I'll even welcome flames.

I couldn't think. I couldn't concentrate. My mind wanted to focus on a million things at once and nothing at the same time. I had barely had time to take it all in. I sat there, shaking, listening to this odd, rotund little man tell me what a good job I'd done. How clever I'd been. I couldn't have cared less what he, or his little council buddies, thought.

I looked over at Giles who was pacing the floor in front of me, trying not to lose his temper with the man: he was as visibly upset as I was. They had nearly killed me. With their stupid, archaic little ritual, they had almost killed me. I didn't even want to think of what they had put Mom through. I was so busy hating this man that I almost missed his next few words.

They were firing Giles? They couldn't do it, not Giles. I looked at him, I saw his eyes widen, the little creases of skin stretching in their corners. I saw the sharp intake of breath, and the panic that mirrored my own.

". has developed a fatherly affection."

The words drifted into my shock, and I saw in his eyes, that the thought had never crossed Giles mind. It had certainly never crossed mine. Fatherly? Hardly. They were going to take him away from me? I couldn't breathe, my heart felt like it would implode upon itself.

Earlier I had yelled at him, I had accused him of things I could never take back, I'd told him I would kill him if he ever came close to me again. At that moment I had been so angry, so betrayed, I hadn't known the full truth. But even as I had said those things, I had never really believed them, I had never thought that he would leave, that I would never see him again. I knew that now. Because I suddenly felt as if the bottom of my world had fallen away and I was perilously close to dropping. Into nothing.

Giles didn't want to leave, he wouldn't. A new watcher? I hated him already, and I had not even met him. Whoever they sent I would hate, as unfair as it was, I knew it to be true. But Giles was staying, he would still be here, and that's what mattered.

The odd little man turned back to me, told me again what a clever little slayer I was. If I had had my strength, he would not be standing there, with his condescending little smirk, his righteous smug attitude to the 'way it has always been done'. I had never hated anyone more than I had at that moment.

"Bite me."

He tried not to react, tried not to give me that satisfaction, but it was there. I saw it. He mumbled something about me being a 'colorful girl' and then turned and walked away.

All my energy was gone, I couldn't do anything. I looked at Giles, the man who I had so hated a few short hours ago, the man who had saved my life. The man I trusted more than anything. What I wanted now, more than ever, was for him to hold me, never let go, keep me safe.

I lifted a trembling hand, holding the wet cloth, I could barely reach my forehead. It was pulsating and throbbing with a deep pain, I could feel my skin slick with the blood. Before I knew it, Giles was standing before me, taking the cloth from my hand. As he stared into my eyes, he knelt down in front of me and pressed the cloth to my skin.

It stung sharply, and I flinched, but then pressed my head into his hand, feeling the slight pressure, the gentle touch of his fingers, he was shaking as much as I was. I saw in his eyes, all the apology, all the pleading for forgiveness that I had ever known existed.

A single streak of water caught my eye as it left the cloth and rolled lazily down his wrist, past the large man's watch that was incredibly beautiful on his arm, and made a path through the thick, pale hair, leaving a shining path of wetness. It was driving me crazy.

We breathed in unison, neither of us daring to speak, not wanting to break the veil that had fallen around us; hiding us from the rest of the world. It was just the two of us; alone, together. His hand pressed downwards, caressing my cheek, and I nuzzled into it, closing my eyes, never wanting the moment to end. 

I leant forward, and pressed my forehead to his, turning away slightly, avoiding the throbbing gash. We sat there, leaning into one another, breathing in one another, for what seemed like an eternity. I didn't know what was happening, a thousand thoughts, a thousand possibilities rushed through my head, but what would really happen, I didn't know.

"No, Buffy, we. I. can't." the words were whispered, they sounded as if they hurt him to speak them.

"No?" I whispered back, pressing my whole face against his, pressing my lips against his, hungry.

He tried to pull back, tried to fight with himself to stop it, but my hand came from nowhere and grasped the back of his head, pulling him closer to me. He stopped resisting. His hands fell to the side of my chair, holding the sides of the seat, his fingers brushing lightly against my thighs. Excruciating.

"But you're the Slayer, I'm your Watcher, you're too young, I couldn't, I shouldn't."

"Slayer, Watcher, too young, recriminations, lather, rinse, repeat. I know. But think about it."

I raised my head and kissed the bridge of his nose, and upwards, the space between his eyes, and over his brow. His head dropped and fell to my chest, as if seeking some comfort, some justification for this. My arms wrapped around his shoulders and at the same time my legs wrapped around his waist. I held him as leant against me.

"Buffy, there's something I have to tell you, that night."

"With my Mom? I know. shhh."

I didn't want to think about that, there was no way in the world I wanted to think about that. 

"You know?"

I placed a finger over his lips, stopping his words.

"Even the Eskimos know, Giles, relax. It doesn't matter."

He raised his face, and for the first time, he brought his mouth up to mine, taking it without asking. I gave without complaint, losing myself. He tasted better than I thought possible. It was a hungry, none too gentle kiss: it was perfect.

My hand came up again and gently lifted the brace over his left shoulder, shifting it and letting it drop past his arm. I did the same with the other side and dipped my head to kiss at the rough skin of his neck. It smelt faintly of his aftershave, a scent I knew well. I could feel him breathe in, his chest rose and fell under my lips. His hands were running over my back, gentle and unsure.

I unbuttoned his shirt, ran my fingers down his tie before pulling it free and then let my hands run over the muscles I found there: my fingers twisting in the wiry hairs of his chest. He groaned into my mouth, I breathed it in.

Before long I felt his hands come to rest on my shoulders, his thumbs pressing deep into the hollows caused by my collar bone, his fingers hooking into the straps of my overalls. I shrugged away from him.

"Uh uh."

He looked up at me, confused, bewildered. I don't know why, but a mischievous feeling came over me and I grinned. My ankle hooked itself into the crook of his knee, pulling suddenly, and before he knew it he was lying on his back, winded, shocked.

"Buffy? I."

I motioned for him to be silent, standing above him, one foot on either side of his waist.

"You're the watcher: watch."

And then I let the overalls fall forward from the waist and pulled out of the shirt, dropping it to the left of his head, his eyes followed it for a second, before coming back to rest on me. He grinned.

My skin suddenly felt hot. I placed my right foot on his chest, and he soon got the idea, quickly fumbling at the laces with his fingers, pulling the shoes off. When he had taken the other shoe off as well, he grinned up at me and placed one hand on each of my calves.

His fingers ran up and down, electrifying my nerves, then he began to pull the overalls down. I couldn't take my eyes off him as he kept tugging at the denim. My hips shifted slightly to allow the fabric to pass. The movement wasn't lost on him and he gasped for breath.

I rose one leg at a time, shrugging off the denim, now I stood above him in nothing but bra and panties. It wasn't quite fair, I realized suddenly. Dropping to my knees I used the shirt that he was still half wearing to bind his arms underneath him.

"If you're going to do that, Buffy, warn me, I'm not that young anymore."

"You'd better tell me now, Giles," I whispered into his ear, "if your ticker can't handle me. I can get rough." His eyes widened, but he didn't say anything and I grinned.

As I shifted my weight downwards, my mouth followed. I was kissing his chest, feeling it, tasting it, down to his abdomen and the small, pliable flesh beneath his stomach. All of it: exploring. My fingers pulled at the trousers, I almost growled with frustration.

I felt his stomach rumble with deep laughter as he lifted his hips to allow me to proceed. I pulled them off, and then ran my hands up the insides of his thighs. His muscles were lean, and taut, and animal.

It seems I heard him call me then, and I moved my body upwards, pressing against his as I came to face him. He lifted his head and kissed me hard, sucking me down. My arms came up to wrap around his head as my legs positioned themselves around his waist. It was now or never. I plunged down gently, feeling him, letting him feel me. Then faster. It was a rhythm with no discernable beat or cadence, but it was driving us both over the edge.

My whole body was on fire, my nerves were singing with extreme pain, a pleasurable pain. All I wanted was that moment, it was all I cared about. I clung to him and he clung to me.

I lay there, afterwards, in his arms, knowing that I'd have to get up and go home, knowing that I'd have to leave him, and not wanting to. I wanted to stay there, always. Somehow it felt right, me with my head resting on his chest, his arm around me and his breath tickling the top of my head. But I had to go, they would all worry if I didn't show.

I sat up, looking down at him as he stared up at me, so deeply as if he were eating me with his eyes. I leant down and kissed his forehead, and began to whisper goodbyes into his ear. I felt his hand run up my arm, and it sent delightful little shivers down my spine. As it ran down again, his fingers encircled my wrist tightly and pulled me down to his lips again.

As I left the school library, I wrapped my arms around me and shivered, looking into the night air. I could still feel his touches lingering on my skin like bruises.