Title: b'Butterfly Kisses'/b

Rating: PG-13 For some language.

Spoilers: Season Five Finale

Summary: Did anyone think on how Buffy's death at the end of season five effected Giles? This is how I feel he handled it; alone. And what did he have left to say to her when nobody else was around.

Author's note: I'm just trying to dig deep into the character that is Rupert Giles for role playing. This is a way to help me. Giles has always fascinated me.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned, nor the lyrics highlighted in bold. They are copyrighter to not the artist, but their creators. Hmph. Oh, and thank you for the inspiration Michael.

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"She saved the world; alot." Giles repeated in a shaky voice as he stared down with a clouded vision to the headstone that was for her. For his slayer. His reason for comming to Sunnydale almost half a decade ago. Pulling the handkerchief from his suit pocket, he lifted his glasses and dabbed at his eyes. "This is hard for me, you know that. You also knew what you planned when you went up there, didn't you?" He was talking to her, hoping that she could hear him. Where ever his beloved little slayer was.

It was dark out. The hand on his wrist watch was already reading a quarter to eleven. "You know, we're not supposed to be here, Buffy. We're supposed to be training. You're supposed to give me some witty little comment on my clothing and I'm to rolle my eyes and give you a dramatic sigh." Giles' voice was rough sounding, his bloodshot eyes were still filling with the tears that had yet to fall.

b"All the precious time, like the wind, the years go by. Precious butterfly. Spread your wings and fly."/b

Feeling his legs start to shake just as much as his voice, he faultered and then fell to his knees, head hanging low. Inside he was fighting a battle not another soul would ever see. But could Buffy feel it? Where was she? Heaven? Hell? Some dimension where her fragile and loving soul could not rest? The thoughts ran rampant in his head. There was so much confusion. So much hatred.

Self hatred.

"I was supposed to be your watcher. I didn't do a very good job, did I? You weren't supposed to end up like the others. De...." He found it too hard to even acknowledge in words that she was dead. He had to find another that would be suitable for his slayer. "..Gone before you were twenty five. You aren't supposed to be gone. Not yet. This isn't the proper order of the universe and you are out of line, Buffy." He was trying his best to be the same Giles she knew, no, had known.

b"What have I become? My sweetest friend? Everyone I know, goes away in the end."/b

It was getting harder and harder to breath. This was all he had to do. Let it all out. Buffy deserved what he had done. He had been strong for the others sakes. For Dawn's, his new responsibility that he couldn't look at. She wasn't supposed to be here. As much as it was wrong to think, he felt the pain grow each time he heard her name or caught a glimpse of her grief stricken face. During the wakes and the funeral, Giles was composed. The ever brilliant and respected English man that the scoobies had come to call as a second father figure. Willow had broken down countless times at the funeral, and Xander had rushed to her aid. Only to be the next to fall. Giles was there as he always had been. Picking up their pieces and sorting them back together. Too consumed in their misery and siffering to reflect on his own.

Now, he had all the time in the world to reflect. Setting his glasses back to his face, he reached over and touched the headstone, wishing that it could radiate some kind of life from the soul it belonged to. Nothing. Coldness. Just like what was left from the void in his heart. "The others picked this o-out for you. The title on your headstone. I let them. But.." Giles was a mess, he was finally letting it all come clean. Years of hidden emotions kept under lock and key was resurfacing to this very point. All the sanity he felt was left over the years was slipping away. "I can't see you anymore. Your smiling face, even as you hid back the feelings from showing, your eyes, they never did lie. I always knew how you felt." He whispered, feeling now that there were a pair of eyes on his crumbling form. He no longer truely cared how others saw him. He was human. He was a man.

He was a father mourning the loss of his beloved daughter.

"I had to bury Jenny. I helped bury your mother. I helped bury you, and it is NOT supposed to be this bloody way. You are supposed to bury me. This is out of order, and if... if things are out of order, chaos will ensue." He choked out, slamming a balled fist into the headstone, not feeling a single ounce of pain as the skin along his knuckles cracked and split, blood trickling down his hand.

Giles had rarely, if ever, let his ialter ego/i out. Ripper never truely showed his face around the others, but he could feel that darkness inside him brewing. This had effected the watcher more than ever. He held it in though. There was nobody else to blame but himself. If he studied more, researched more, and just over all paid closer attention to her, they wouldn't be here. Weeping over the loss of the reason he was here in the first place. He had defied the council more than once. He had stood up, protected Buffy with his own life being at stake. He had been dismissed for the fact that his feelings went beyond that of a slayer and watcher relationship. He was acting like her father, or better there of.

( Sorry, this has TBC. I tend to leave people hanging. I know. Bad writer. But, what would I do without my ability to tease you all? XD Feedback? Yes, please. Send to, Buffy_Anne_Summers_The_Chosen@Yahoo.Com, or just leave a review here. )