The Soft Glow of Night
Title: The Soft Glow of
Author: Tricia Stewart (GylzGirl) Email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Disclaimer: Joss, Fox, and WB own all BtVS properties. I own only the story.
Distribution: Solo, WorstWitch, Anya, HeadQuarters. Anyone else, please ask first.
Spoilers: THE HARSH LIGHT OF DAY
Author's Note: For Kazza, Solo, Lisa Beth, Koala, and even my non B/G sis Meawan (probably to her everlasting horror <g>). Buffy's POV, some reflections on the aftermath of Harsh Light of Day. *
It's Buffy again. Buffy again perhaps for the first time in a long time. Doing the things Buffy wants, because she really wants them, not because she thinks she should. Making the "What's right for Buffy" choices, and for a change, being right.
What started this whole madness? I could be shallow and say it was the Parker thing. That may have sparked it, but this was longer, deeper. Carefully hidden so that I didn't even know where to look. Parker hurt, I won't lie. But, in the big picture, he was nothing. Even when I took him to bed, I knew his wouldn't be the last face going through my mind the night some vampire got lucky. I knew I'd be surprised if I even knew his name a year from now.
Maybe Spike. His taunts. The thought that my enemy can read me so well, when my closest friends can't, when Angel never could, when I look in the mirror and am blind myself to what he sees so clearly.
I don't know what caused it to tell the truth, only that when it was presented, it became undeniable. This is of the good, because boy was I in denial mode the first night the dream came. And if I'd been able to crush it then, I would have. That would have been the tragedy. Certainly not Poophead Whatshisface and his four inches of "nice".
I sent Oz to LA to take Angel the Gem of Amara. My closure I guess. My last gift to him. My warning to him too. That I was giving him invulnerability and the day back, so not to ask anything more from me. And then I went to bed, and closed my eyes, and I too was given a precious gift.
It was night. I walked into my dorm room, lit only by the dim nightstand lamp and the blueish flicker of the computer screen behind me. I closed the door and walked directly to my bed, reaching to my back to begin to unlace the ties of my black halter top, the same one that'd seen the dormroom floor of my most recent mistake. Then I felt him. I felt his eyes on me as the strings fell away. Instead of his voice stopping me this time, there was not a sound from him. Nothing but the increasedly ragged breaths drawn past his perfect soft-looking lips.
I knew he was there, and that only caused my hands to work faster, revealing myself as he Watched. When my back was naked, I dropped the halter to the floor, now bare to the waist. When I moved to turn, I heard him inhale to speak, finally.
"Giles, don't. Don't say anything. I want this. I truly do. If you don't, you should go now, before I turn around. But don't say anything. Please."
Parker hurt, yes. But he had no power. He didn't have the power to devistate me, to take what was left of my patchwork heart and crumble it to dust with a sledgehammer. That power lay in the lightly scarred hands of the man sitting behind me. I waited infinite seconds for the sound of the door closing, the slight squeak of him standing up from the desk chair, and who knows, maybe his laughter that the little fool had been tricked...again.
I turned with eyes closed. When I heard his gasp, I opened them. He remained there, his eyes moving from my navel, to my breasts and finally to meet my own eyes. For the first time since I'd known him, I could read everything he was thinking and feeling in his eyes. His thoughts? So beautiful. Mine. Finally. Mine. Love you so much Buffy. His feelings? Love. Desire. Love. Want. Did I mention love?
It was the first time I had ever felt that, ever felt it and knew it was purely that. And he could see that I knew. And he could see that I felt it too. Only two people have ever seen my heart that clearly. Giles and Spike. Who knew?
It was then that he stood, approaching slowly as my skin tingled in anticipation of his touch. When it came, it was one finger's feather-light stroke of my forearm. I could feel the desire inside me welling down low, my nipples tightening under its force. The two times I'd had sex before had failed to unleash the storm brewing inside me now. I was about to be made love to, for the first time. There were no mistakes, no potential regrets, just the enormity of how right this was.
With more grace than one might think possible, we bared our bodies to each other and came together in a heated embrace of furious caresses, each one stoking the fire hotter. We tumbled to my bed, his body covering mine. His perfect soft lips placing kisses at the scar on my neck, trying to make it right for me (as he's always done), trying to show me how it should have been all along, if only I'd had the eyes to see it with.
His patient hardness grew more insistant, moving closer to connection as he settled between my legs. Again, I heard him inhale to speak. This time, I stopped his words with a kiss. I decided if his mouth was to be open, then what I most wanted it to be doing was making magic with my own. As his hands slid into my hair and his tongue danced with mine, he filled me, almost to overflowing. We built slowly, working with the timelessness an awareness of one's destiny allows. And when the long sought for ecstasy arrived, it was like drowning in lava and flying over rainbows, and running just ahead of the light of the waking day. But most importantly, it was warm, and safe, and full of love.
As our sweat-dusted foreheads leaned against each other and my green eyes met his, he finally spoke. "I love you Buffy." That was the moment I realized words can give as much to you as they can take from you and I would never hush that sweet mouth again.
And then I woke up. My nights continued that way for a week, until the fever the dreams generated deposited me at Giles' front door two nights ago, wearing my black halter top. His smile was warm as his eyes met mine. He let me in and closed the door behind me.
I was wrong earlier. Giles knows me better than Spike. Giles knows me better than anyone. He knows just what to say. He knows just where to touch, and stroke, and kiss. Dreams do come true. As the Slayer, I've known that for awhile. But Giles has shown me that the good ones can come true as well as the bad ones. Even for me.