Buffy was edging sideways.
She was trying to do it surreptitiously, although that wasn’t exactly something she was good at, most of the time. But she’d found herself sitting on the top of a cold slabby sepulchre, waiting impatiently for the latest newbie to rise while Giles paced about and lectured her on a variety of things which neither of them were really very interested in. He was doing it because he probably thought he ought to be, and she was – well, she was just waiting, and the night was getting cold.
Cold, crisp – and perfectly silent. Not completely silent, of course. The nights in Sunnydale never were. There was always something happening somewhere – the soft bang of a loose window shutter or an unlocked gate, the quiet murmur of traffic, or even the whisper of the wind, caressing the world. But this night, shared in a deserted cemetery, was as quiet as quiet got – once you’d filtered out the warm rumble of the Watcher’s voice, droning on and on …
The Slayer edged a little closer, trying hard not to smile with triumph as she realised that Giles had paused to rest his weight against the stone and was barely a reach away. She been trying this for so long now that she was beginning to think she wasn’t meant to get an answer. Ever since Angel had made that cryptic remark about Watchers and heartbeats she’d been looking for the evidence that denied his outrageous claim. And every time she’d got close enough to listen – really listen - fate or circumstance, or – more often – Xander or Willow had intervened, and she still didn’t know. Not really.
She’d tried listening in the library, since that was supposed to be a quiet place – but after those time when Giles had been sitting, quietly researching, only to look up and find Buffy there, lurking close enough to touch – she’d learned not to spook him that way. Okay, so the startled look and the worried blush was kinda cute, but that wasn’t why she wanted to get close, and she didn’t want him thinking that she did.
She’d tried getting close enough to do the listening thing while they were training. Except that was a stupid way to do it, since, after a good workout, her own heart ended up pounding far too loudly for her to hear a second one, let alone a third. And Giles had started to get antsy about the whole business, since he was constantly advising her that she was getting too near, and didn’t she know better than to close with an opponent like that?
Which she did, so she’d stopped doing it. Most of the time, anyway.
It had been months. A lot of things had happened since then. She’d died, for one thing, been brought back to kick the Master’s butt – and then spent the summer with her dad. After that, there’d been all that business with the Master’s minions and Spike turning up to try and take over the town … There might well have been other opportunities like this, but if there had, she must have been too concerned with other things to stop and worry about than whether her Watcher was … well, not entirely human. It was a totally dumb idea anyway. If anything, his behaviour over those months had simply served to demonstrate how human he was. The way he’d been willing to face the Master in her place. His wonderfully stuttering, out of his depth, reaction to Miss Calendar. And – hey – hadn’t the bad guys included him as an ingredient in their recipe intended to revive the Master? Definitely not an indicator of demon lineage. The whole ‘handling holy water and burying bones in sacred ground thing’ was pretty much in his favour too.
But the comment and her curiosity had not gone away. She wanted to know. Wanted to be certain that Angel had been speaking metaphorically or something. Because if he was right, then the very foundations of her personal universe would be threatened. And tonight – tonight was a perfect opportunity to prove it, since here was Giles, momentarily out of words, leaning against the stone and staring up at the stars as if he wanted to be up there among them.
Buffy edged closer. She could hear the rustle of some small animal in the undergrowth. She could hear the faintest ring of laughter from the distant late night diner. She could hear him breathing. She could almost hear his heartbeat …
And then she could hear the scrabbling of dead hands clawing their way out of the earth, and she was leaping off the tomb, and twisting through the air, leaving her Watcher ducking down in surprise as she somersaulted straight over his head.
Nearly, nearly …
She cursed softly to herself as she charged into battle, the stake an extension of her arm, just as she’d been taught. Not just by Giles, but by Merrick before him – and she was pretty sure that her first Watcher had only had one heart, because she’d been there when Lothos had driven a dagger through it. But then – just how had Lothos known it was Merrick lurking in the shadows that night? It could have been anyone.
Lucky guess, she told herself severely, kicking the newbie in the face and then following through with a stylish half twist and a back stab that buried the sharpened wood deep into the vampire’s dead heart. He must have known my Watcher would be somewhere close.
Watching me.
She straightened up and turned, a cheerful grin painting her face. She still missed Merrick – but Giles was her Watcher now, and he had to be happy with that piece of textbook perfect slaying. It might even have earned her a ‘well done’ cookie or two.
The grin froze. Giles was right where she’d left him, standing by the ivy wreathed tomb, but he wasn’t alone. There was a vampire right in front of him, being kept at a determined distance by a firmly extended cross – and a second, creeping up behind him, crawling across the raised stone. "Giles," Buffy yelled, already powering forward. "Behind you!"
He half turned, barely dodging the lurching grab that was launched in his direction; the cross went flailing to one side, and the first vampire lunged forward, knocking the Watcher completely off his feet. Buffy charged in with a furious yell, only to be knocked down herself as the second vampire leapt from the top of the tomb. He grabbed, she kicked out; they struggled for a moment or two, and then she was climbing through his dust, her eyes anxiously darting round as she tried to locate what had become of her mentor. "Giles? Giles?"
"Buffy!" His answer was choked and desperate. The vampire had him down on the ground, one knee planted in his stomach and both hands clamped around his throat. Buffy threw herself forward, stabbing down at the creature’s exposed back. He let go with one hand to fend her off, but held on with the other. For a moment the three of them were caught in a frenzied pose, the Slayer practically snarling as she struggled to reach her prey before he murdered his … and then she grabbed and twisted; bones broke, the stake slid home, and she was falling forward, all resistance gone.
She landed with a gasp and a heavy thump, probably driving the last of what little air he’d retained from Giles’ lungs. "Oh god," she gulped, too shaken to do anything but lie there, cushioned by his warmth. "Are you … all right?"
His left hand waved a vague acknowledgement, his attention focused on drawing air through a bruised throat. "Be …all ..right. In ... a minute," he croaked. Buffy relaxed with a sigh of relief, letting her head drop to his chest so she could take a moment to catch her own breath.
And froze a second time, feeling and hearing the impossible confirmation of Angel’s claim pounding and racing beneath her. There were two hearts beating inside her Watcher’s chest, one on each side of his body.
Damn!