Ye gods, I'm actually posting this.

Title: Never Normal Again
Fandom: BtVS
Author: polly1esther
Rating: PG-13 (please check out the warning)
Spoilers: ”Normal Again” from season 6.
Summary: What if Buffy hadn't come to her senses in the episode ”Normal Again”? Giles is there to pick the pieces.
Warning: Character death. Big time.
Disclaimer: Blah blah, bity blah, it's all Joss, gimme a scone.

A/N: If it weren't for wyvernfolf, I wouln't be posting this. She saw the fic for what it was when I was doubting, and she had some great ideas how to improve it. She truly is the bestest beta a girl can have.


He hadn’t kept his promise. He could never forgive himself for betraying her.

*

They sat in silence watching each other, but only one truly saw the other. Giles watched over her, and while Buffy gave the semblance of watching him, she was really looking through him, never truly seeing him. He talked to her in a soft, gentle voice hoping for, but not expecting a response. The only response he ever got was the blank, empty stare that never failed to break his heart. The life and fire that had always been her trademarks were gone.

She was there, but, not really.

Giles came to see her religiously every day. Each time he visited he read parts of his favourite books to her. He convinced himself the reading was all for Buffy's benefit, but the truth of the matter was that he found solace from the familiar words. Sometimes he just told her about his day, about what he did when he wasn't with her. Those stories were short. Nowadays his life revolved so much around Buffy that nothing else really mattered. Even though Giles had never considered himself a religious man, there was one thing he believed in. She had given his life a meaning for so long, he had forgot what it was like before. Some might say that these days she was his deity; something he could and should worship, and beg for forgiveness that was never granted. She was an unforgiving god; she never bestowed any of her mercy on him, and always left him out in the cold. Nonetheless, there was no other place for him than at her side. He had left her once, breaking the sacred promise he had made a lifetime ago, and he was now paying the price for that.

“Buffy?”

No answer.

He carried on the mundane one-sided conversation about life’s little oddities that would have amused Buffy had she been present. It was like she was already dead, but her body hadn’t realised it yet. Her Slayer body was still strong and ready to heal, and he knew she would probably outlive him, a thought that worried Giles. Who would watch over Buffy when he was gone?

The one thing her body couldn’t heal was the heart and mind that had been shattered to little pieces when she had lost her family. She couldn't live with herself after what she had done. Only Spike had lived to tell the tale of her transition from slightly mad to a completely insane killer, all because she hadn’t believed her friends were real but merely figments of her imagination.

Dawn, Willow, Xander and Tara, all killed by Buffy.

Warren, Jonathan and Andrew, all killed by Giles.

When he had returned to Sunnydale, Buffy had already shut down. Spike had been helpless, not knowing what to do with the catatonic Slayer, which was why he had called Giles. Spike had figured out what had happened and had gladly directed Giles in the Trio's direction after discovering their involvement in the horrible events. Giles had shown them no mercy. The council had cleaned his and Buffy’s tracks and no questions were ever asked about the deceased.

The Council had realised then that they had no further use for Giles. He would remain at Buffy's side as her Watcher to the end of her natural life.

“What do you think, Buffy? Would I look good in a tutu?” Giles broke the heavy silence in the room with the most inane question he could think of.

Buffy would have appreciated it. The girl in front of him remained lifeless.

Giles didn’t mind the pitiful looks the nurses were giving him when he talked to Buffy like she was normal - to him she was. They didn’t understand the bond that had been there even before they had met. It had been damaged severely, but it was still there. He felt her pain because it was his own. He was more of a shell than she was, a hollow man that nothing could fill again. Sometimes he wished for the same state of mindlessness that protected his Buffy but it never came. It was all too poignantly clear and harsh and true.

The doctors had advised that he let her go and carry on with his life, but eventually all of them had realised he was a lost cause. He would never be free of her, he didn't want to be free of her, and pushing him in that direction only brought the dark man to the surface. None of them were eager to meet him ever again so they had let him stay at her side.

“Mr. Giles? You'll have to come back tomorrow, she needs her rest.”

A nurse who had entered the room, told him gently it was time to leave. She saw how hard it was for Mr. Giles to leave each time, and she could have sworn that it was hard for her young patient too. There was no actual visible sign of Buffy’s distress, only the nurse’s own intuition. She never quite understood what it was that held these two together, but she knew it was strong.

“Yes, o-of course.”

“Looks like you need a good nights sleep as well, Mr. Giles.”

She instantly regretted the familiarity when she saw his blank look.

“No rest for the weary, eh?” he muttered tiredly when he stood up.

The question wasn’t meant to be answered so she wisely gave him a sympathetic look and subtly gestured that they should leave. Giles reluctantly followed the nurse after kissing Buffy on her forehead.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, my dear," he promised. "Good night.”

Nothing.

**

His night was restless as usual. Ever since the tragedy, his sleep had been plagued by nightmares. Sometimes he speculated that he was sharing dreams with Buffy, because they were always about their dead loved ones. He felt like he carried the weight of their deaths because Buffy couldn’t. He always felt their presence beside him and welcomed their company. In some twisted sense they made him feel less lonely.

The nightmare was always the same. He killed them all, one by one. Willow's, Xander's and Tara's lifeless bodies were lying on the floor as he slowly neared Dawn. Dawn was always the last one. Suddenly Dawn’s pleading face morphed into Buffy’s and he was staring at Buffy's disfigured face while trying to choke her. He always woke up when Dawn turned into Buffy.

“No!”

Giles woke up soaked in sweat, the sheets in a mess. His heart was painfully trying to work its way out of his chest and it took a long time before he was able to breath steadily. This was not the first time he had this dream and he somehow knew it wouldn’t be the last. As a rational man he understood how his guilt manifested into dreams, but it didn’t make it any easier. There were times when the thought occurred to him that maybe Buffy was trying to tell him something, but he always tucked that nagging feeling back where it had came from. Buffy wasn’t in any condition to tell him anything.

In the quiet darkness and in the solitude of his bed, he drew comfort from the company of his silent visitors. Willow and Xander were as loyal in death as they had been in life and stayed beside him.

**

“Good morning, Mr. Giles.”

Giles absent-mindedly mumbled some empty pleasantries in reply to the young doctor who greeted him when he entered the asylum. He was eager to see Buffy again. Coming here was as much of a relief as it was a pain. She was here and she was alive.

But not really.

It was another demon he couldn’t fight - she was real, but not exactly there.

“Good morning, Buffy. Did you sleep well?”

Silence.

"I’ll take that as a no then" Giles sighed disappointedly.

He had brought a book with him again and started reading to her, gaining some peace from their little everyday routine. Routines kept him going and helped him function. They had gone through practically all the English classics and Giles had teased Buffy that there was no escaping a healthy dose of proper culture now. There was always that same stab in his heart when Buffy didn’t protest heartily against what she would have perceived as a grave injustice. The things that used to make him climb the walls were the same ones he possibly missed the most.

“You always knew how to wrap me around your little finger, didn’t you?” He mused.

Silence.

The dull look that now defined her face every single day was killing him, but Giles kept on going. He didn’t want to show his depression, but he sensed she knew. He could detect when she was sad, so he concluded this worked both ways. They were both absolutely miserable.

Giles remembered when he had returned to Sunnydale and had tried to wake Buffy through magick. He had tapped into something so cold and murky that he knew it wasn’t the way to get her back. He had tried the same spell Willow had once used on Buffy to reach her subconsciousness. He had expected to find something similar to what Willow had found: maybe Buffy as a child or maybe even Buffy herself going through the motions.

Instead, he had found absolutely nothing.

It had felt like he had been sucked into a void where there was nothing to hold on to. He hadn't been able to see or hear anything in the nothingness. It was like his body wasn't present because he couldn't feel it, let alone move it. He had gasped for air that wasn't there.

The disconcerting feeling that he couldn't trust his senses had caused him to panic. His futile attempts to scream had only made things worse. He had been ready to give up hope and wondered whether this was how dying felt like.

But no. He was not dying. This was not real. He had to fight, if only for Buffy's sake.

The thought of Buffy had helped him calm down. She still needed him to take care of her. That simple truth had been something Giles had clung to in a world without sense. The clarity of mind he gained from it helped him to focus. He actually knew the way out of her mind, he just needed to concentrate and focus.

When Giles had snapped out of the trance with all his senses intact, he had concluded nothing really made sense anymore.

After his horrible experience in Buffy's subconscious, Giles had reluctantly accepted her present state as being something that could not be fixed by magick. The doctors insisted it wasn't her brain that was lost, but her mind. She just was, and so he would stay by her side.

The unresolved feelings he had for her entwined with the guilt and grief. There were so many things left unsaid when he had decided to leave her to deal on her own. Things he thought she wouldn't have wanted to hear back then. Things that he knew she couldn't hear now, no matter how many times he repeated them. Like his bitterness over Buffy's decision to die instead of Dawn. Like his anger when Buffy had still insisted on throwing her life away after she was back. Like his unwavering love for her. It was all lost on the girl in the asylum who happened to wear Buffy's face.

Seeing her every day was both his salvation and punishment.

***

It was almost the same dream again. He had killed his young friends, but this time there was no Dawn.

Now, this was different and unexpected.

He looked down at the bodies in hopes of any suggestions, but understandably neither Willow nor Xander could offer any. Tara's lifeless body remained equally silent.

He looked up at the kitchen door. It was partly open, but he didn't feel particularly eager to go up the stairs. The bright light coming from the kitchen was in stark contrast with the darkness of the basement. Giles had been in a dark place in his mind for so long that the light filled him with dread. In bright light, there was no place to hide from all the horrible things he had done.

"Giles? Are you ever gonna come up?" Dawn opened the door wide and her slender figure appeared as a shadow at the threshold.

Giles just stared at her. There was no certainty any more, no pre-programmed order to follow. The girl didn't plea for her life or show any fear at all. If anything, she seemed annoyed.

"Seriously, we've been waiting like forever. Buffy is royally pissed off." Dawn huffed. "Like it's my fault."

"Buffy? What? How...?"

Dawn ignored his questions and stomped away. Giles had no other choice but to follow her. Slowly, he climbed up the stairs leaving the dank basement behind. The only time he hesitated was by the threshold, until he heard Buffy calling him.

"In here, Giles!"

He followed the voice to the living room, where both Buffy and Dawn were sitting on the couch. He stopped at the sight. Both girls were very much alive in this dream. He was too shaken to analyse the fact that he knew he was dreaming.

"Took you long enough. We’ve been waiting for you for ages.” Buffy glared at him.

“Yeah, you really took your time, Giles. I get that you’re old, but please!” Dawn whined.

"I... uh, I'm n-not s-sure-"

"Giles, sit down before you fall over. You don't look too good." Buffy patted the couch to get Giles to sit next to her.

Giles obeyed shakily, but wasn't convinced he was out of the woods just yet. He felt only marginally in control over his body and felt no control whatsoever over anything else.

“I’m p-perfectly all right, I’m just…surprised.”

He nearly yelped when Buffy grabbed his hand firmly. She certainly felt real when she squeezed his fingers.

"Sure you are, Mr. Passive-Suppressive. You and I, we need to talk."

"We do?"

He really missed his glasses under the force of Buffy's glare. Apparently dream-Giles didn't need them.

"Uh huh. Big time."

"I gather it won't be about your love of classical literature?"

"There might be some angry words." She smiled for the first time. "Dawnie, could you go upstairs? I need some quality time with Giles and it could get messy."

"You're gonna yell at him again, aren't you?" Dawn observed.

"Could be, sweetie."

Giles was surprised when Dawn did what she was told to do without fuss. That just confirmed things, this had to be a dream.

"So..." Giles shifted uneasily when they were left alone.

“So!” Buffy turned angrily to Giles. “First of all, you read me Shakespeare when I'm defenceless! Do I look like I'm jonesing for some Hamlet in my state of mind? What were you thinking? I don't even speak Shakespearean!”

"I'll have you know, even you bloody Americans should have some grasp of the English classics. Shakespeare is essential-" Giles paused in realisation. "Wait, you could hear me when I read to you?"

"Yup. There was just nothing I could do. Nada. No escape. Pure torture. Before this, whatever this is..." Buffy waved her free hand impatiently at the house . "...I could always just tune you out when you were boring."

"Hey!"

"Well, I haven't been able to do that for a long time, if that's any consolation." She grinned before the expression slowly died. "I hear you all the time now. I see you every time you go down there, see what you do." She gestured towards the basement.

"Oh?" He avoided looking at her.

"Yeah, it's bad." Buffy squeezed his hand gently again. "That's why you gotta stop doing it."

"Reading you Shakespeare?" Giles tried desperately.

"Don't get all avoid-y with me Giles. You know what I'm saying."

"And how exactly do you suggest I do that, avoid doing those horrible things? By not sleeping ever again?" He yanked his hand away from her grasp.

"By not blaming yourself, over and over again. You didn't kill them Giles."

"It was my fault!" he cried out.

“No – it – really – wasn’t.” Buffy sighed. “Don't you get it? You've been beating yourself with a mighty guilt-stick there and it’s not even your stick... It’s mine.”

“If I hadn’t left-“

“You did what you thought was right, and you know what? It must've worked, because I did some growing up. Slowly and painfully, but I got somewhere. Well I did, until my head went all wonky and I killed my family. But hey… nobody’s perfect.” Her callous words were contradicted by the utter sadness in her voice.

"If I had been here-"

"I would have killed you first. You're my anchor-guy, my voice of reason, so eliminating you would naturally have been first on the list," Buffy stated matter-of-factly.

"I don't think-"

"Believe me. Insane-o-Buffy wasn't exactly thriving with mental health."

"But you are now... I mean, you feel better now?" Giles tackled.

"As good as a catatonic chick possibly can. Which leads me to my other issue."

"Does it possibly involve me in a tutu?" Giles grimaced, remembering all the things he had said to her in the asylum.

"No." Buffy snorted. "But it involves a good and a bye. It's been long time a-coming." She continued quietly.

“No.” Giles refused to see the truth.

“That’s way mature of you, but then I guess denial was always our special route to happiness. Giles, you have to let me go.” Buffy insisted.

“No.”

“I’m starting to see a pattern here. You’re just gonna repeat that ‘till you’re blue in the face, huh?”

“Is it working?” Giles attempted a smile.

She smiled and let her fingers run down his cheek. He quickly covered her hand with his own.

“No, not really. It's my time, has been for a long while. The only thing I need from you-“

“…is for me to let you go.”

Giles' posture slumped in the face of that realisation. He was the reason she couldn't move on. He was the cause of her continuing pain.

She could see where his mind was wandering again. “I will not play one of the Giles-self-blame games you seem to love so much. Trust me, it will never catch on like Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon did.” Buffy tried to console her defeated Watcher.

“You know me too well." He tilted his head. "Er, who is Kevin Bacon?”

“Really Giles, this is sad. Even when catatonic I know more about pop culture than you ever will. You really need to get out more.”

“I couldn’t leave you alone there.” His voice was barely audible.

“I know. You loved me and you took care of me.”

“Yes.”

"And shakespeared me, which I'll never forgive you for." She waved her finger at him. "Nancy Drew books on the other hand, now, those are the real classics."

"Honestly Buffy, I am quite appalled by your taste."

Buffy only nudged his shoulder affectionately for a reply. They didn't need any more words and this time Giles was perfectly happy to sit quietly with his Slayer. Their comfortable silence was broken by Joyce's voice from upstairs.

"Honey, could you bring the cheese with you when you come up?"

Buffy rolled her eyes at Giles before answering her mother. "Sure, mom, cheese plate coming up! Just give me a sec with Giles."

"Joyce is here? But how is that possible? Spike told me about your... hallucinations, but I thought that's all they were, hallucinations. In your mind, have you been stuck in the asylum all this time?"

"Relax, Giles." Buffy soothed him. "Like I said, I've been here the whole time. Watching you like you've watched over me before. Not that I could actually do anything for you. Do you have any idea how many times I've tried to stop you doing what you do every night? You never heard me no matter how loud I yelled. Now I know how you must've felt with me."

"I thought-" Giles started, "I thought you were trying to tell me something, but I never let myself believe... my god, Buffy, I've been so stupid."

"No arguments here. For a wise man you can be so dense sometimes. You always try to slay my demons... My stalwart standing fast," Buffy jested. "That's why you left in the first place, remember?"

"I didn't think you could hear me." Giles had to clear his throat. He had poured his heart out to her when he sang to her under Sweet's spell - only to realise she hadn't heard a word.

"I didn't at the time. I didn't hear much of anything back then. But here... I hear you. I see everything that's going on: past, present and occasional glimpses of the future," she said with regret in her voice. "You know, the minute I killed my friends, the asylum delusion with my parents burst like the big, fat bubble it was. I was stuck here in this house, and I don't even know if it's supposed to be your mind or mine.” Buffy stopped for a second. “Hey, maybe it's the Watcher/Slayer -mojo at work? Sort of like a mind meld thingy. Wouldn't that be cool?"

“Uh, yes... q-quite possibly.”

Giles didn't really understand much of what was going on but he didn't want to worry her. Buffy obviously wasn't aware that he had tried using magick to explore her subconscious, which lead him to believe he had stumbled into a defence mechanism of sorts. Something that her mind obviously hadn't needed when Willow had done the spell, since that time, it was Buffy herself who had created in her mind the worst possible reality. This time though, the worst had happened. She had actually done the unthinkable: she had killed her loved ones. Now the mechanism worked automatically even without Buffy's knowledge in order to protect her damaged mind from intruders, no matter who the intruder was. This house – her home – was the only place she felt safe. The one place he could have reached her had he opened his own mind to her sooner.

There was still one thing that troubled him. "But what about Joyce? She's here, isn't she?"

"She's up there, yeah." Buffy pointed upstairs. "They're all there, although Dawn has been keeping me company... her being made out of me, and all that mystical mumbo-jumbo stuff is why she's been stuck with me. Not that she complains... much. I just had no business going up there before I took care of the business in here." Buffy gently placed her hand on Giles' chest over where his heart was.

"This is it, then?"

"Uh huh. I'll give your love to the guys upstairs. They told me to say hello and to tell you to stop worrying so much. Oh, and Willow told me to give you this." Buffy kissed Giles on the tip of his nose.

Giles couldn't help but grin thinking of his girls' whimsical natures. He reluctantly followed Buffy when she stood up. He accepted it was time for her to go be with her family.

"Oh, and Giles?" Buffy turned to face him one last time.

"Yes Buffy?”

“Promise me you’ll never wear a tutu.”

**

He was awake and Buffy was gone, for good. And she had taken the shadows with her.

When he received the phone call from the asylum later that day, he took the news of her death quite serenely.

They were both finally free.