destructo-girl.com

"Don't Give Your Heart"

Author: Gail Christison
Email: chriscln@ozemail.com.au

Giles' pulse rate accelerated and she could feel a hot flush of arousal, even a giddy sense of anticipation that she never would have guessed Giles to be capable of...

The scent got into Buffy's nostrils, as they went into the flat to find roses everywhere and champagne chilling in a bucket as Puccini's "La Boheme" filled the room.

She did everything she could to will him a warning, to turn him around, to stop the inevitable from happening, but he simply continued to smile, to become even more aroused, to radiate happiness as he picked up the sheet of paper on his desk.

Buffy choked when she saw the handwriting and the word: *upstairs.* She wanted out, and she wanted it right then. She called to Willow but there was no answer, nothing.

Giles picked up the wine and started up the stairs, Buffy's misery making a stark contrast to the vibrancy of his joy as he climbed and the music swelled.

His hopes and dreams flooded over Buffy. She had no idea just how much this woman had meant to him. For all her mistakes, Giles had obviously loved Jenny terribly, and, Buffy could now feel, had harboured silent hopes, even before Eyghon's return, that she would one day be his...that perhaps, finally, he would no longer be alone.

The jag of shock, horror, pain and incredulity from him crashed over her, slicing through the simmering heat of his desire and the bright, but tragically brief, aura of real joy, to leave nothing...

It took him several minutes to move from the spot, to walk forward and touch the pale cheek with the trembling backs of his fingers, the small choking noise as he closed her eyes, expressing more grief than the loudest wail.

Buffy's heart wept for him as he made himself back away, turn and go downstairs. He stopped at the bottom and she held her breath. Giles had never spoken of this time and she had never asked. She didn't know what he would do next.

Suddenly he was moving again, ripping the record from the turntable and hurling it across the room, the vinyl bouncing off the wall and landing on the chess table, leaving stark silence to settle over them.

God, Giles, she thought sadly as he staggered back to the table and the telephone. He dialled, and reality changed again...

Buffy would have held her head, if she'd had the wherewithal to do so, overwhelmed by this journey into the depths of Giles' thoughts and memories. Nobody had told her that it would be like this...

She had imagined some kind of surreal vista with physical representations of both of them, a tangible Giles for her to play hide and seek with until he was ready to come back. Instead she was spinning from an all-too-real roller coaster ride the like of which no one should ever have had to witness, let alone experience...

Over the sound of her own thoughts came Willow's voice. She was dismissing a Sunnydale High class...computers by the look of it.

By the time Buffy had focused, the class was gone and Giles was talking to her. It almost made her want to smile. Willow was so cute as a kid...adorable, even. She did half-smile to herself then, until the conversation turned to Jenny Calendar.

Giles' heart suddenly went from warm affection for the redhead, to a walnut-sized ball of pain again.

Buffy's breath caught in her throat when Willow produced a cord necklace with a single pink stone in it, and handed it to him. The memory of him turning it over and over in his ravaged fingers blurred with the elegant, smooth fingers taking it so easily from Willow's hand.

If she could have closed her eyes, she would have. A lot of things were beginning to make sense now...

She breathed hard and looked around. Being Giles, yet not, was getting way too confusing, she decided, realising that it was he who was breathing hard, not her. She ached for him, but it was he who was in physical distress at that moment.

She felt the pain in his head, the fear he was controlling and the intense stress levels as he looked up at the vampire standing over him.

Buffy shivered mentally. She hated that voice and everything it touched in her, everything it echoed from her past.

But no one answered. No one could hear her. She was a mute passenger on a tour of Giles' life and she didn't know how to get off.

And she wanted desperately to get off. She didn't want to see what Angelus was capable of doing, didn't want to be in this terrible room for even one more moment. The mixture of Giles' physical distress and silent fear, and the pain of her own memories, made her desperate to escape.

Giles had staggered to his feet and was watching Angelus prattle about Acathla. Buffy's overwhelming desire was to kick the crap out of the bastard, even while beset by memories of what she had done to him, but Giles was maintaining his dignity, and waiting for his head to clear.

And all she could feel was pain. On and on it went, until she was exhausted, both from the agony, and the sound of his silent screams...until all that was left was their sobbing.

Giles lifted his head, bloodshot green eyes staring with utter hatred at his tormentor.

Angelus smirked. "Wrong on both counts. I've had her, and I've got you. Wanna play some more? You've still got two good fingers left on that hand and they make such a cool noise when they break." His expression turned sour as he picked up Giles' left hand. "Pity you don't make a cool noise. You know, torturing someone is hardly any fun when they don't make a noise."

A part of Buffy screamed for him, as Giles' index finger snapped like a twig and the agony shot through her body. But the Watcher made not a sound other than the tortured, gasping breath that followed the break.

Angelus turned, strode away, wheeled, came back. "What's it going to take to get some entertainment outta you, old man? Maybe I should send a message to Buffy to come get her old man before I kill him. Might be more fun to play with the little Slayer after all. Wanna watch?"

Giles was trembling with shock and pain from the latest break. He made an effort to lift his head and spit at the vampire.

When the spittle hit Angelus' shirt and dribbled down it, the vampire lost it for a moment and punched the Watcher in the mouth so hard he fell backwards. Then he knelt alongside him, pulled open his shirt and used one panel of it too wipe the saliva from his own.

Giles was too consumed with the pain still echoing through him from the jarring of his mangled hand, to object.

In that moment Buffy wanted to die...almost as much as she wanted to stake Angelus.

Angelus inclined his head and a couple of minions dragged Giles back onto the chair he'd been knocked off.

Buffy felt him silently screaming in pain from their manhandling, but he still refused to make a sound.

"Are you still playing with that wanker?" Spike rolled his chair into the room. "You're supposed to be interrogating the bugger, not crocheting his fingers."

"Piss off, Sit'n'spin. This is my game. Was a time when you were as good at this as me. Drusilla snatch that pair of yours when you weren't looking, did she? Or did the Slayer get them when she dropped that wall on you?"

Spike's nostrils flared angrily. "All I'm saying is the bloody world is never going to end if you keep fart-arsing around with book-boy there."

"He won't talk," Angelus said sulkily. "He won't even groan for me. Not even a real whimper." He backhanded Giles across the mouth. "Isn't that right?"

Spike looked from one to the other, aware suddenly that there was a great deal more going on here than psycho-boy was ever going to realise.

"Fine," he said. "Just make sure there's enough left to do the talking when you're done. I'm not hanging around here just to watch you picking up bits of Watcher and snivelling about not being able to open the portal, and neither is Dru."

Buffy, trying to deal with Giles' pain, struggled to make sense of what Spike was doing. The Spike she knew should have been gleefully helping Angelus, not reasoning with him.

Spike's expression was contemptuous. "Fine. Do what you like. I'm going out. I've had enough of this whole bloody thing. Make him talk, don't make him talk...but do it without me."

Buffy watched the chair roll out, her stomach doing flip-flops. Somehow, she knew Spike was going to find her.

Suddenly she was aware of a despairing wave of sadness from Giles. Angelus was still looking at the doorway and didn't see the abject misery that passed across the Watcher's battered face as he watched the fair vampire exit.

Giles was thinking about her, wondering where she was, if she was safe. He had been so sure she would come for him, so certain... He let no tears fall for Angelus to see, but Buffy was not protected from the silent weeping of his heart.

Frustrated and annoyed, the vampire turned and scowled at his prisoner. "I need tools," he muttered and glared at a minion who scampered off to find them.

"No!" Buffy cried into the void of her nether existence, between worlds, frustrated beyond measure that she could not stop it. She had seen those tools. She never wanted to see them again.

When the minion returned it was with a tray almost exactly the same as the one Faith had intended to use on her. She shivered again, watching through Giles' red-rimmed eyes as Angelus gleefully picked through until he'd found what he wanted.

Buffy felt Giles' terror when he saw it, but again he made no sound, nor did he flinch as the vampire brought it to his cheek and traced his bony jaw with it.

"Isn't this the coolest?" he asked. "Multi-purpose tool. What shall I do with it? Pop an eye...that can be entertaining...if messy..." He looked at the long, needle-like shaft. "I know! How do you feel about body piercing? Eyebrow...no, nose...no, bottom lip," he prattled gleefully. "Navel? Or maybe you have a preference for something a bit more exotic?" he suggested, trailing the point down Giles' chest to his crotch.

Enraged, Angelus lashed out, driving the stiletto-like blade deep into his left shoulder blade, making Giles' jaw open so far it was almost overextended in a silent scream of agony.

Buffy, reeling from the pain, marvelled at the strength of will that saw the Watcher maintain his silence, despite his treatment, and redouble that effort when Angelus spitefully pulled the weapon back out without even blinking.

"Tell me what I have to do, old man, before I perforate something that can't be fixed!" he snarled and laid the bloody tip against Giles' lower right eyelid. Buffy could feel the discomfort from the pressing point.

Giles finally spoke. "You...y-you must get yourself another of these...and...and..."

"And knit yourself a sack for your dust, you prat!" he hissed and tensed for the loss of his eye.

Angelus was incensed, leaping up and throwing his head back, letting out a bellow of rage.

Buffy figuratively exhaled, almost paralysed with fear at the prospect of what that stiletto might have done...then she realised it was Giles' fear. She already knew from history itself that Giles' eyes wouldn't be touched.

When the vampire swung back again it was to beat on the helpless Watcher in a frenzy of enraged blows, Buffy learning for the first time what it was like to be on the fighting end of one of her own attacks. In his haste to protect himself from the rib splintering-blows, Giles used his bad hand to shield himself and almost cried out in mindless agony when Angelus struck it hard.

The red flush of Giles' face, the blood vessels standing out in his temples and the saliva running from the corners of his mouth told Angel all he need to know. He grinned sadistically.

"Now there's a game we can play," he cackled gleefully and took hold of the broken hand.

Buffy felt the vampire's cold fingers close around one of Giles' broken ones, almost passing out as Angelus twisted it bone-crunchingly and waited for his toy to cry out in agony.

Giles' body jolted and his head flew back, his mouth again open in silent pain, but he did not cry out.

Waves and waves of nausea and sickening pain hit Buffy in an endless barrage as Giles retched and heaved and turned his head enough to vomit on the floor.

"How do I activate Acathla?" he demanded, grabbing another finger and bending it backwards until it fractured a second time.

When he had recovered enough to remember his name, Giles stared the vampire in the eye, his eyes bulging, his nose and mouth running and his face almost beet-red with strain.

Buffy begged whatever mechanism, whatever powers were doing this, to move them on, to blink time again, anything to stop Giles' agony...but to no avail.

The torture continued relentlessly for hours, Buffy helpless to do anything but suffer with him, until Angelus bade a minion hand him the shirt he'd removed. He slid it over the bloodied arms and back of his victim and did it up in a parody of motherly solicitousness, as though dressing a child.

"There ya go, Rupert, love. All dressed. God forbid anyone see that you're a human being under all that tweed...outta shape, but all human. Don't you English guys ever even think about taking care of yourselves? You've got potential there, but it's wasted... well, I mean it's wasted, anyway, because I kinda spoiled your fun there a bit, a while back," he said immodestly, grinning like a naughty child. "Thing is you can't expect any woman to look at you if you don't take care of yourself...I mean you never did get to make time with the gypsy, huh? Oh, right, I forgot. You don't have to worry about women looking at you. Your job is to be alone, isn't it Rupert?" he smirked. "You're just her Watcher...her little Alfred..." The smirk widened. "Her whipping boy. Pity she's too busy to care if you're alive or dead, huh?"

Buffy felt Giles close his eyes as outrage, humiliation, grief, radiated out from him. His whole body trembled and a single sob issued from him, before he gathered himself and stiffened against the small breakdown.

Her first thought was 'eiewww' as someone pulled away from a kiss. Her next was that he was still in incredible pain, but that an inexplicable joy was washing over him, one so powerful and so ecstatic that it made her feel like her eyes were pricking with tears. And then she realised why.

Buffy watched in transfixed horror as he looked at the woman he loved with such joy that, for just a moment, the pain he was in faded to nothingness. This was impossible. Buffy knew it was, but Giles' whole body had bought the illusion without question.

Again, she tried to reach him, call out to his subconscious, anything, to stop it all happening again, to not have to know what she had left him to all that time. She squidged as the apparition of Jenny worked on him for information, and strained to block out both his response and the joy ringing in him at seeing the other woman again.

Buffy was disgusted, but it was overridden by the power of Giles' horror hitting her in the stomach. If it was possible, his heartbreak in that single moment was more horrible even than the tragic, Puccini-drenched time when all his dreams had ended.

Buffy wanted him out of there. Wanted them both out of his head. She wanted them both back, where she could take care of him, tell him...tell him what...?

Except that no matter what she did, Willow seemed to be inaccessible. She wondered fleetingly if she was going to be stuck there forever. Was this actually the darkness to which Edof had referred? Buffy shuddered at the thought as Drusilla spoke and time shifted yet again.

Giles put down his overnight bag and sighed mentally. "St Louis. No luck, I'm afraid."

Willow slumped. Cordelia rolled her eyes and picked up the magazine she'd been reading, again.

Xander frowned. "That's three plane tickets in the last two weeks, big G. You think maybe it might be better to wait until she—?"

Buffy felt the anger, resentment and self-consciousness in Giles as he spoke. "It was a good lead. It just happened that whilst there were plenty of vampires, there was no...no Slayer."

He looked at Willow for a long moment then nodded slowly. "We must hope," he agreed, but Buffy could feel how lost he was, the despair percolating at the edge of his consciousness, in direct contrast to his carefully calm demeanour.

She'd always thought Xander's remonstrations about how hard Giles tried to find her, were about her being the Slayer and him obsessing about being responsible for her as her Watcher. And about the fact that Mister I'm-so-smart-Watcher-guy had lost his charge and had been driven to find her, to bring her back into line, probably including a lot of yelling, if he'd managed to find her.

Now, as Giles walked to his office and slumped in his chair, letting himself be engulfed by its soothing familiarity, she realised how wrong she'd been.

He opened the door and let himself in, dropped the grip just inside the door and locked it solidly.

Buffy frowned mentally. Giles and locks were un-mixy things, but he'd done that like one of those sort of people who get robbed or mugged and live with twelve locks on their doors, always terrified of being...

He crossed the room slowly, Buffy realising for the first time that, as small as his apartment was, it seemed huge with just him in it, and silent, as he padded into the kitchen and put the kettle on. For the first time, she imagined almost five years of living like this, or perhaps even a lifetime, of coming home to silence and emptiness, with only the sound of your own thoughts for company, no matter how wretched they might be.

At that moment she realised he had just arrived home from yet another trip. He was thinking about where he'd been, what a failure it was, and he was hurting, but in an 'if I think about making tea instead I shall be perfectly fine,' Giles sort of way.

Something was very wrong. He was sort of stiff and rigid, and really into the 'pretending it was all irrelevant and being incredibly British', even though he was all alone, with no one to see...

She waited as he brought the cup of tea into the sitting room and sat down on the couch, put it down on the table, and sat back.

Then he dragged a hand over his tired face. At that point, Buffy realised that he had started to heal from his ordeal. There were no dressings on the hand, but it was painfully obvious that the still-ugly fingers were stiff, sore and still giving him trouble.

She was shaken to find that she wanted to warm them, kiss them, and tell him how sorry she was, but the hand dropped to his side as he tried to focus on the tea again, his mind replaying the events of the day.

She drew a sharp breath when she realised he'd been to her house, seen her mother, that this was what he was trying not to think about, despite an ache in his soul that Buffy could feel reverberating down to her bones.

Deliberately and purposefully he picked up the tea and started to sip it as the exchange replayed itself in his mind.

At first Buffy was glad to see her mother's face, to see something reassuring after being lost for so long in the seemingly endless montage of Giles' memories.

She felt how much Giles wanted to help, how much he wanted to try and alleviate the other woman's pain. And how incredibly disappointed and harsh he was on himself for not having anything to tell her. She felt a swell of love and pride and gratitude as he broke character completely to try and reach out in his own way to comfort her mom.

Buffy didn't know which of them felt more punched in the stomach as they both reeled back, emotionally.

She knew what it had cost him to reach out like that, and she could feel the lacerations her mother's words had left as the images faded until all that was left was the ghost of her own face and the spectre of his regret.

Moved, she fought the urge to burst into tears, then realised with shock that it wasn't just her.

Giles had picked up his teacup again, and was mechanically sipping at it, but he was not all right.

She had not come home. He hadn't been able to find her...even Joyce Summers had confirmed his failure.

The teacup clunked on the table and his head dropped, his shoulders beginning to shake, overwhelming Buffy with his sudden, suffocating despair. Somewhere, somehow she choked and burst into silent tears.

"...You should have told me he was alive. You didn't. You have no respect for me or for the job I perform..."

Buffy jumped and shook her head. The sudden changes were beginning to give her an angry headache to go with the now constant pain in her heart.

Giles was staring at her younger self again. He was trembling with cold rage and intense hurt as he turned silently back to sit down in his office chair.

Again she had the sense of a ball of tears in her throat, only this time they were hers, not his.

Why couldn't she have understood? Why did she always have to be so blind? Her Angel-obsessed, high school self was standing there in shock. She could remember that day as clearly as if it was yesterday. All she had been able to think of at the time was what she'd been through, how much she loved the vampire and how hard it had been for her...and on top of it, how unfair it was to have Giles mad at her, too...

Mad at her...God, she'd been so stupid, she thought angrily, remembering her own words: "I'm gonna try and kill this Lagos guy. Peace offering to Giles..." Peace offering! She thought, filled with self-loathing.

She could feel the longing in him for her to show some sign, some...any...recognition of what it had cost him to stand by her in her relationship with Angel; what it was costing him to not go straight out with Xander and stake the bastard then and there.

Music crashed into her thoughts and she realised they'd skipped again. The place was familiar, if loud, the lights bright and the crowd...

Giles was agitated, staring toward the entrance, worried, but for once, Buffy sighed with relief...no real badness was happening.

Giles again turned to the door and Buffy was deluged with his concern...jags of apprehension interlaced with his commonsense telling him not to be silly.

She wanted to chuckle, but there was something about his edginess, a quality she couldn't quite grasp, until he saw her.

Buffy held her breath as her younger self came into the room and paused to find him in the crowd.

Delight was spreading through him, and relief so exquisite it made her tingle...as though a great load had been lifted. His smile widened to match hers and he nodded just slightly, no sign of the disappointment that lanced through him when she turned to look for the others, showing on his face. He turned away and the room shifted.

A familiar song was playing. Shivers went up Buffy's spine, wherever that particular organ was located currently.

Giles was moving through the crowd, fast. There was a level of contentment, overlayed by concern for her, especially now, when he knew she would be feeling it most, and over that, anticipation, almost excitement.

The conversation went as she remembered it, but emotionally Giles was all over the place, nothing like the relaxed, placid Watcher she remembered from that night.

He was about ready to burst with anticipation and more than a little apprehension. She could feel him about to ask her other self something and wondered what the hell it could be.

Then he looked up and Angel was there. First there was a moment of real fear, then a jag of revulsion quickly suppressed, and finally, and most confusingly, crashing, painful disappointment, as he turned his charge to see her surprise.

Standing alone in the crowd, he watched them, only his eyes betraying the sadness Buffy could feel in his heart as he watched the two former lovers dance.

For a brief moment Buffy was entranced by the illusion. They looked so perfect together ...in fact, exactly as they did in all her young dreams...the ones where they would have been together forever...

Even before she felt Giles' poignantly reflexive flinch at the sight of that dark visage, anger flooded into her own heart. Anger at what she had caused, what the vampire had done to him, and worst of all, what no one, least of all her, had done for him since...

As he watched them, touching Buffy with his genuine pleasure in the knowledge that she was, for at least that little time, happy, she began to understand how truly alone he was.

After a beat, he finally let himself think about what he'd just been going to ask her...and the tender image of his intentions caught Buffy by the throat, just as time winked again.

She swore. She hadn't wanted to tear herself from that sweet image in Giles' mind. For one brief, shining moment, even if only in his imagination, everything had been all right.

But all she could see was a room full of college students. Giles was talking about his school days. Buffy snorted in irritation when Anya cut him off, then smiled inwardly when Xander gave her a lesson in manners, which the guileless ex-demon promptly spoiled.

Giles' silent amusement, when he dismissed them, was mixed with irritation and vague unhappiness.

For a long while he remained alone, watching with varying degrees of boredom, self-consciousness and discomfort, the various goings on in the room: Kel Bennett kissing Neely Lehmann; Xander and Anya pretending they weren't making out in a quiet corner; Willow circumnavigating the room and making sure everyone else was having a good time; the fact that the ceiling was full of cracks and needed filling and painting...

Mostly, though, despite his discomfort, he was just content that she was, for a little while at least, safe, and that her birthday seemed not to be poised to explode in their faces, yet again.

Buffy watched her younger self, talking animatedly to a group from the Initiative, and felt a wave of shame.

He remained alone for some time. Finally, Willow returned, just as Buffy was about to go nuts from sheer boredom, both his and hers, and growing irritation with her younger self.

Giles accepted a plate of cake awkwardly as Willow asked him if he was having a good time. Again, Buffy found herself doing the equivalent of looking away, embarrassed, despite Giles bravely continuing the conversation.

And lying through your teeth, she thought dryly as her birthday self approached with Riley.

Giles radiated pleasure at the site of her...and love, she realised. There was also, once again, a happy sense of anticipation.

She felt the love swell in him as he balanced his plate and cup to let her hug him. She felt a new stab of shame that she didn't even remember doing it.

He wanted so badly to say something. Buffy willed her other self to shut up and listen, fruitlessly, once again.

"There's somebody here I want you to meet. Uh, this is Riley Finn...my boyfriend."

The older man's spirits went through his shoes. As always, he showed nothing, save discomfort, at the turn of events but his distress, his loss, was palpable and painful.

It grew worse with Riley's clumsy gaffes. Nor did 'birthday' Buffy's attempt to guide the conversation, or her eventual effort to send the boy away, help at all.

Buffy listened to her own witless and ever increasingly painful blunders until she was ready to scream. Worse, Giles' hurt was washing over her, amid his disappointment and irritation, and the residual embarrassment. And at the mention of Maggie Walsh, and Buffy's artless mention of the woman's age: humiliation and withdrawal.

Riley returned with the cake, capping off the moment, and, Buffy noticed, eliciting not only flaring irritation, but a sharp spike of something else from Giles. She recognized it, because it almost exactly matched the Watcher's response to Angel on a number of occasions: jealousy and possessiveness...so well controlled no one would ever know.

As he watched her younger self wander off again with her beau, Giles' shoulders slumped and he sighed a long sigh. Finally, he got rid of the cake and slipped quietly away, unseen and unmarked...and, as always...solitary and alone.

Giles was singing. She'd never heard him sing...except it was weird to be on the guitar-playing, singing side of the music for once. He was kind of down, but he seemed to be enjoying himself.

She had the ability to do neither and made no bones about it. She liked his voice, and was just beginning to really enjoy the moment, soothed by the peace and pleasure he was increasingly feeling as he played, as much as he was, when Spike suddenly interrupted, frightening him out of six month's growth and not doing anything for her nerves either.

The vampire went straight to the kitchen, helping himself from the refrigerator.

Buffy wondered what the hell was going on and would have rolled her eyes if she could have, when Spike put a bag of blood in the microwave.

"I need to speak to the lady of the house. Hey, be a pet and give her a message for me, would you? Tell her I just might have something she just might want."

Giles tensed at the words 'lady of the house', but Buffy could feel his anticipation of a possible lead.

"Information. Highly classified. Not cheap word-on-the-street prattle either. I'm talking about the good stuff now."

Buffy snorted inwardly. Giles being stuffy to someone else was actually kinda fun.

"It's nothing I know. What, you think I'd come running over saying: "I've got a secret, beat me till I talk? There are files in the Initiative. I'm pretty sure I know where."

Spike removed his blood from the microwave. "Yeah. Secrets. Mission statements. Design schematics. All of Maggie Walsh's dirty laundry, which I guess would include lots of tidbits about—"

"Well, yeah. Say someone were to risk his life and limb --well, limb anyway-- to obtain said files. It might be worth a little something?"

Giles' eyes narrowed and suspicion replaced anticipation. "A-at...this point a cynical person might think that you're offering just what we need when we need it most."

"That person'ed be right, Rupert...supply and demand. And it won't be cheap this time."

'Yeah,' Buffy thought. What do you really want? Giles had never mentioned this conversation. There had to be a reason why.

"Hmm, year's supply of blood, guaranteed protection, merry bushels of cash, and, most important . . . a guarantee that I'm not to be in any way slain."

Giles put his glasses back on. "Done," he said, taking Buffy a little by surprise, though she could feel that he considered the urgency of their need for information more of a priority than worrying about Spike's petty motives.

"With a smile and a nod from you? Sorry. Not close to good enough. This deal's with the Slayer."

Buffy felt Giles' recoil, and wondered why. She was expecting him to give as good as he got. Since when was Giles ever 'not good enough' to act as proxy for her? Especially with Spike...and especially after all those weeks of those two being Weetabix buds.

Buffy figuratively glared at the vampire. Giles was buying...no, was agreeing...she paused, confused. Giles already thought he wasn't...?

"Oh, you'll tell her! Great comfort, that. What makes you think she'll listen to you?" Spike demanded snidely.

"I think you're neglecting the past-tense there, Rupert. Besides, she barely listened to you when you were in charge. I've seen the way she treats you."

Buffy knew then that Spike was playing games with Giles' head. That, somehow, he knew that the Watcher was already depressed, that he already half-believed the things Spike was saying. She could feel, now, the emptiness in Giles' heart, and his overwhelming feeling of irrelevance...as though nothing he did would really be of any consequence anyway.

"Oh, yes? And how's that?" he finally replied, working at calm while his insides were in chaos.

Buffy knew that was a bad thing...as bad as when he found out about Eyghon. And it had taken more than just the demon to drive Giles to this kind of depression, even then. It took history, death, mayhem, guilt...

Then she realised the truth. It took Eyghon and all his attendant baggage last time to make him raise a glass again in self-defense; this time...it was about her. A rock formed in her gut.

"Look, I've got what she wants, as long as she has what I want." Spike started to leave, pausing as he passed Giles. "Spread the word. She knows where to find me."

Giles stared at his glass with studied indifference, but the distorted reflection stared back at Buffy with eyes more desolate than she could bear.

"I'll think about it," he growled under his breath and brought the glass to his lips as Spike slipped away.

He drank without haste, but steadily. It haunted Buffy, the way he sat in the lonely apartment in silence, staring into nothingness, the only real movement the occasional swirling of the contents of the glass in his hand.

She wished that someone would come, someone would help, but she knew now that they were all too stupidly preoccupied with their own little worlds, especially her, the Adam issue not withstanding, to even call, let alone actually drop by, just because...

Eventually he got up. The half-bottle was empty. She was surprised to see him walk in a straight line to the kitchen, his mind a flat line of muted depression. He was resolutely not thinking about anything other than the objective...which was to completely obliterate the ache the vampire had so carefully reawakened.

He dropped the bottle in the trash and took another from a high cupboard, where it sat among bits and pieces for entertaining...glass tumblers, packets of nuts, popcorn, chips, some mixers, a packet of playing cards, unopened, an unopened bottle of tequila and another of something called Angostura Bitters.

Buffy found herself close to tears again, without being sure why. There was simply something incredibly sad about knowing someone so long and yet having no clue about the stark loneliness of their existence, of knowing, somehow, that she was a party to it... a seemingly willing accomplice to such terrible isolation.

Time blinked as she felt herself begin to tremble, wherever the hell her physical body was, and she found herself in the midst of something she did remember.

Giles was stumbling upstairs and removing his shirts, far more inebriated now, and thinking outrageous thoughts to mute the hurt simmering below the surface. He made it to the bed before he got his pants and t-shirt off and collapsed on top of it without pulling the covers back.

Initially, he lay there silently in just his shorts, his pickled brain wandering into thoughts of endless, terrible puns inspired by his current unhappiness, and back to the conversation downstairs. They hadn't really noticed he was there...at least no more than a familiar standard lamp... or a bloody cocker spaniel...he thought, with a whimsy that choked Buffy. He snorted. Or perhaps he was more of a golden retriever? His tipsy musings continued: always steadfast, loyal, quietly subservient to events and never a complaint. I'd make a smashing retriever! he decided smugly.

Buffy giggled wetly as the voices rose downstairs and it was revealed that Willow was in a gay relationship.

The conversation downstairs dropped back to a murmur and Giles settled further on the bed, still bemused by the turn of events, and allowing himself a little satisfaction, through the haze of his fractured, ethanol-induced logic, in his exit...that for once he hadn't been the one left behind...that for once he'd left Buffy standing...

" No! No, you said you wanted to go. So let's go! All of us! We'll walk into that cave with you two attacking me and the funny drunk drooling on my shoe!"

Giles froze. After a few moments, his fists clenched, and he curled up into a tight, silent ball, all whimsy snuffed out, all thoughts submerged in abject misery.

"Buffy..." Xander's voice began what sounded like a feeble attempt to put things right.

"Is that it?" her other self demanded, sounding perilously close to cracking. "Is that how you can help?"

Giles made a tiny, deliberately strangled, noise in his throat, in the following silence.

"So . . . I guess I'm starting to understand why there's no ancient prophecy about a Chosen One...and her friends," Buffy finally said, her voice coldly calm, yet lashing out with the bitter hostility of one whose world has suddenly come crashing down yet again, without rhyme or reason.

There was no answer to that, and she was given none. A moment later she spoke again, even more coldly.

Giles jolted when the door slammed moments after that, but didn't move. Buffy felt him curl up even tighter, realised how much he was trembling, and that it wasn't entirely the booze. When he started to weep softly, choking in his efforts to stop it, and swearing under his breath when he was unable to halt the tide, Buffy expected to wink out again.

This time, however, she was left to ride it out with him, to remain silently with him until he fell into a shallow sleep.

When, at last, some kind of reality asserted itself again, she was separate, sitting on the side of the bed, watching him sleep.

The silence was almost claustrophobic, and unnatural. After a beat she realised that there was no sound. No creak, no rattle of the window frame, not even the sound of his breath.

After a beat to assimilate that, she reached out and touched his shoulder. He remained unnaturally still, in exactly the same distressed foetal position he'd been in before he went to sleep. With a deep breath, she tried shaking him, but to no avail. He simply curled back into the same position.

"Giles," she whispered. "It's okay. It's only me. Ethan's gone. We escaped. You can come out now..."

Frustrated tears pricked her eyes as she moved closer to him and traced her fingers along a stubbled jaw, the faint scent of alcohol still in the air. None of this was real...and yet he felt so real...

She continued to explore the familiar contours and crags of his face, unaware that, gradually, a half smile had softened the grim line of her mouth.

"You need a shave," she said softly, barely able to control the trembling of her lips, and brushed the hair around his ear with her fingertips. "They said...they said if someone loved you enough, you might want to come back." Her hand stopped moving and dropped away.

"I...I need you to know...I can't do this without you. You...there's nothing without you," she told him as calmly as she could. He remained as still as the dead. She threw her head back, her mouth clamping in a straight line and her eyes rolling in frustration.

An idiotic thought occurred to her; something a six year old might try, but there was nothing else.

Slowly, she leaned forward, and pecked him on the cheek with all the enthusiasm of one forced to kiss the frog. When, inevitably, nothing happened, emotion choked her and she frowned.

After a couple of minutes of staring at his face, his mouth, she finally lowered her head again.

His lips were soft, but cool now. There was no joy in the kiss, and he tasted vaguely of whiskey still, but she found herself making it as loving and tender as she could, without being exactly sure why. When she straightened, it was with the childish hope that he might open the sea-green eyes and smile at her foolishness.

She stared at his closed eyes, the silent, almost sculpted, features cutting through her, forcing a small sob from her throat when they remained unmoved, as she knew they would.

"Giles, please, come back to me!" she begged tremulously. " It's safe now. I'm safe now. I need you, Giles! Can you hear me? I need you so much!"

She could hear her own words echoing in her mind, each an indictment of her horrible record as a friend and worse one as...

Buffy stopped, realizing where that thought had been headed, unbidden, but going there, nevertheless. She swallowed. It had been instinctive, true, not even a speculation...but... She swallowed again, scarcely believing her own senses.

Instead of further thought, she leaned down and kissed his brow tenderly before pulling away, her eyes alight with the discovery.

Willow, she thought, frantically, her mind full of images. Willow...you have to put me back...!

The music rose and Buffy flushed, mustering her courage when she realised that Willow had heard, or read her avalanche of thoughts, somehow, and had succeeded.

This time she scanned the room as she had so long ago...a million years ago, it felt like...and searched it for the figure she knew would be weaving through the crowd on his way to her side.

"You did good work tonight, Buffy," he said, a little more self-consciously than the last time.

"Every now and then, people surprise you," she added softly, but this time with profound feeling.

His eyes widened and searched hers, as though trying to understand everything she had so pointedly left unsaid. Then his eyes shifted, flickered, and his face fell.

For a long moment Buffy watched the figure who'd held such a mortgage over her life, her heart, her soul, for so long...then she turned back to the man behind her.

"Every now and then," she repeated dryly, seeking his rather surprised, soft green eyes.

For a moment the green pools focused sharply and gazed piercingly into hers. She almost thought she could see him...the real him...for a moment, in those jade depths. Then she watched him grin, this time absorbing and delighting in the joy in them, the love.

She walked forward slowly, watching that grin widen, and took a deep breath as he handed the umbrella to a surprised Julie Welsh from her history class, took her in his arms, and, with one last glance over her shoulder, swept her onto the dance floor.

Across the room, Angel stood like a statue, watching them float away, with an expression carved from stone.

Buffy, stealing a single glance as they turned, felt a twinge of pity, but did not look back again.

Giles danced like a dream. The lessons her mother had insisted on in the misguided belief that her only daughter might someday actually make her debut, had not been entirely for nothing, after all...

After two slow turns around the room they slowed to the same non-pace as the other couples on the floor, swaying slightly to the music as Buffy, ignoring Giles' very proper and respectful hold of her, let go of his hand and slid both arms around his waist, nestling her cheek into the breast of his tuxedo.

Their strength, their warmth, enveloped her. Buffy closed her eyes as the sensations washed over her, one after another. His body, his scent, the overwhelming aura of his unspoken love all served to make her forget everything except why she was there.

She tightened her hold as they moved slowly to the haunting music...music she would never again hear with that old ache in her soul. From this moment on she knew she would feel exactly as she did now...as though, for the first time in her life, the world felt exactly...perfectly...right, every time she heard it.

After a few moments, Giles held her away from him, his eyes searching, questioning.

Buffy's heart leaped with hope at the urgency in them. Slowly, warily, she allowed her gaze to fully lock with his curious one.

She swallowed, trembling, but mustered every ounce of courage, every ounce of truth in her soul.

"I never told you," she stumbled. "I never told you how much..." She stopped to swallow a choke. "I'm the biggest idiot known to man. I didn't tell you. I didn't even know at first...Oh, God, Giles...I—"

"Buffy...?" he whispered, and it sounded like it came from miles and miles away.

"I love you so much," she told him in a trembling, but determined, voice. "I love you, Giles. Could—Can you bear to let me love you...even after everything...?"

Giles removed his glasses and slid them into his jacket pocket before looking down at her again.

"Can you possibly know what you're saying...?" he asked very slowly, his seemingly detached voice increasing the weight of intonation with every word. He didn't sound nearly as far away this time.

Buffy nodded slowly and reached up to cup his face with slender hands. When she lifted her gaze and smiled at him, everything...all of it...was shining in her soft, grey-green eyes. She drew his stunned head down, catching his lips with hers.

For agonizingly long moments, hers was the only movement. Though his lips had automatically softened and accepted hers, he did not kiss her back.

Bolts of adrenaline shot through Buffy when she realised this was it: he was so close that the next few seconds, or minutes, could be the difference between getting him back ...and unthinkable failure.

She lifted her eyes and searched his beloved face, trying to find the words to convince him, growing more and more frightened, more and more panicked when the right ones would not come.

Against her will, frustrated tears flicked out of her lashes and rolled down the soft cheeks.

"Please..." she whispered. "I won't leave you. Not again. I'll stay here, with you, if I have to. I can't live out there, not without you! Not any more...!"

The shrill cry reverberated in her head like the clanging of a bell. When she opened her mouth to swear, something...happened.

"You've been gone for hours," Willow said plaintively. "I-I know stuff was happening, but we had to pull you out. We have to go, now. Ethan's been to the college trying to find us. Someone gave him this address. Xander is my backup guy, for phone calls and emergencies a-and stuff," she explained uncomfortably. "Anyway, they're coming here, like, in about ten minutes, so we have to move..."

"So you just yanked me out?" Buffy snapped. "Do you know how close I was? If we lose him now, Ethan is going to die for this," she muttered darkly, unaware of Edof's silent scrutiny. She scuffed angrily at her face and turned to take the hand of the still figure on the bed again. After a beat, her shoulders sagged.

Graham looked around nervously. He didn't like the Englishman or his creepy demons. He'd have far preferred to do the search with just his own guys and without the annoying company.

"I can see that, you twat. If that little sod, Edof, is with them, your bloody machines should pick him up...correct?"

Graham winced. "Correct, sir!" He turned to a subordinate and gestured to him to check the infrared tracking.

Upstairs, Belinda Harris pushed all the Chinese food cartons into the trashcan and wiped the table over.

Harris senior belched and rose to shuffle over to the window, careful not to spill the can of beer he'd just opened, and opened a bloodshot eye.

"Just more friends of the boy's. Looks like he's going to a fancy dress party. When's he going to get a real job?"

"That's nice, dear," she said absently, pouring a glass of red wine from a cardboard cask. "Alexander has to find out who he is first. He's a sensitive boy."

"He's a lazy-assed slob who doesn't even get out bed until midday. How the fuck is he going to get a job?"

"Language, Henry," she replied, slowly draining the glass as she dropped into her favorite armchair, found the remote and pressed 'play'. "Shift work, I guess. Some people are just made to it..."

"Well, the weirdos are all gone now," he rumbled and returned to his chair before they both fell silent in rapt attention to the small screen and the behemoth wrestlers on it.

"Okay, I give up," Buffy muttered, bemused, as she helped Xander carefully carry Giles up the steps into the apartment building in front of which they'd parked.

"Oh...this is Tara's place. Her non-collegy place," Willow explained, following close behind. "Nobody else knows about it. Her family thinks she lives on campus, so nobody knows except, well, me...and now you guys...so don't tell anyone, 'kay?"

Xander and Buffy looked up the long flight of stairs, to the first landing and the dogleg to the next one.

By the time they reached the door of the apartment and Tara hastily opened it, Xander looked on the verge of a coronary. Buffy's colour was high but she wasn't breathing hard.

Buffy fussed until he looked somewhere near comfortable and covered, bloodied shirt, socks and shoes removed, before turning to Willow, and Xander who was still heaving for breath.

Willow looked at Tara. "We have to put you back," she corrected. Moments later they had made a rudimentary circle and started preparations while an impatient Buffy fretted and fidgeted, washed up, and even used Tara's first aid kit to bathe all Giles' wounds while she waited.

"Have you found anything yet?" Ethan demanded as they made their way up the street slowly in military vehicles.

The solider looked up. "Nothing of note, sir. A number of vampire signatures and pheromone trails for several demons not matching your description, sir!"

"New one, sir. This is only the second time we've had one on scanners...maybe even the same demon. It took three months of research to identify the species. Apparently they don't usually leave their own dimension if they can help it."

"The same one your boys, there, come from," Graham said over the commando's shoulder. "Sentrian demons and their ancestors have been prey for those guys since the dawn of their time. They evolved the ability to morph as a defense, like cuttlefish and stuff, here, frightening stuff with their colours. Sentrians morph into scary or useful stuff to stay alive, but they can't hold the shape forever, not for more than an hour usually."

Ethan's eyes went from getting rounder and rounder, to narrowed and suspicious. "What do they look like in their real form?"

"Sorta like a little gnome," the younger soldier offered without looking up from his equipment. "But we've only seen a drawing. Or Riley saw it. He got the ID from some old guy with a lot of demonology books. Can you believe that? People actually write books about this crap." He laughed aloud.

Graham looked uncomfortable. Riley was a particularly sore spot and the damned slayer and her cronies an even bigger one.

"Just find it," Ethan snapped, and tapped on the window of the vehicle. The driver opened a sliding panel. "Yes, sir?"

"I want details sent to these two addresses to confirm that they're clear." He gave the boy both Buffy's home address and the one for Giles' flat. "After that we have to find Rosenberg's address and someone has to check the college."

"And when I find Edof, I'm going to break every bone in his tiny body, and feed him to the Druul," Ethan snarled. "Follow the morph's signature."

Buffy picked herself up and looked around. Willow had gotten damned close. Her spell had put them...her...back in the flat, in Giles' loft. He was still curled up on the bed, unmoving. It had probably been too much to ask to pick up exactly where they had left off...except...now she had no idea what to do next, or how to help him.

For just a moment the enormity of it threatened to overwhelm her. If she had lost him...

A moment later she closed her eyes. She knew where she had to try next, and Willow obliged.

His back was to her. She could feel the waves of pain emanating from it and the tension that filled the silence of the small office.

"Giles," she said softly, and watched his bent head lift, but not turn. "Giles...I'm sorry...I-I had to go...before. Ethan was on his way."

"It's not just that," she admitted. "I'm sorry a-about all of it. I know I've never told you. The truth is, I didn't know what I was doing to you, not really. Please, please, believe that. As young and stupid as I was, if I had known..." she closed her eyes for a moment. "If I had known how much I was hurting you..."

When she opened them he was still sitting at the desk, as though unwilling...to move, or perhaps to risk being hurt again.

"I understand now," she whispered. "I know about Angel. I know all of it. I know..." She paused, looking down, a surge of emotion preventing her from getting the words out. "I know why, even though I loved him so much, he's gone, and you stayed. I know why it was so hard to decide to even start seeing Riley, and why I've been trying way too hard to make that work. What I wanted from him, he and I could never have..."

For a terrified moment she didn't know what to do. This was beyond her ken. She didn't know how to handle it. She couldn't hit it, stake it, pound it into the ground or pretend it wasn't happening...and that was all she had been doing...for a very long time. Her eyes dilated at that realization.

She stared at the back of his bent head. She didn't even know how to say the words anymore. And what she had been able to say hadn't been enough, anyway. Almost, but not quite, and she didn't know what else to do...

Her mouth trembled as his head lowered again, as though defeated by the silence.

It was more than she could bear any longer. She swallowed and moved slowly toward him.

He flinched when she slid her palms onto his shoulders. He smelled, predictably, of books and Earl Grey tea and tweed...a combination that twisted her heart with memories.

Buffy squeezed the broad shoulders reassuringly, but he didn't speak. Nor did he move when she rested her cheek against his crown, but she could feel the tension in his body.

She drew her arms around his neck, crossing them over to hug him from behind, the hug soon becoming a hold, as he began to shake in earnest. She held him tight, as her own emotional control wavered and shook. He made a noise, a tiny noise, but Buffy knew he was weeping and soon so was she, for him, for all of it.

It poured out of him. Not only the past she had seen, but also all the horrors of what the Weyre had done to him: the pain, the terror of the violation of his most private places, the agony of the attempts to take what he would not give...did not give.

She continued to hold him, and grieve with him, until they were both exhausted and silence closed in around them again.

"Let me love you," she whispered tremulously, near a warm ear, sorrow catching in her throat.

She felt him swallow then heard a sigh, but the sound came from a distance away, not from the circle of her arms.

Buffy looked up. "Let me love you, Giles. You don't have to stay in here. You don't have to be alone any more. Neither of us do!"

For the longest time, there was only the unsynchronised sound of their breathing. Buffy refused to let him go, and he seemed content for her to hold him.

Just as she was beginning to despair, the fragile Giles in her arms, still recovering from the horrors of his ordeal at Angelus' hands, and the trauma of her own betrayal of him, sighed a long, jagged sigh.

There was so much in the sound, all of which Buffy now understood, now carried with her...

She closed her eyes again, despairingly, and buried her face in his hair, waiting for his rebuff.

It didn't come. The silence stretched until her nerves were almost screaming. And then she felt it...fingers sliding over one of the arms that were still locked around his neck, closing around her slender forearm, and squeezing gently before simply holding on.

After several beats Buffy realised she was holding her breath, and released it slowly, before lifting her head from his silky hair.

"Buffy?" a still-disembodied voice whispered back, a fragile sound, sending a current down her spine.

She struggled with a surge of emotion. "I'm here. I won't leave you. I promise."

"I know," she said soothingly, despite the rioting of her insides, and covered the hand that was still holding her forearm. "I know..."

Reality suddenly and jarringly shifted and Buffy found herself in Tara's big double bed, holding a curled-up Giles in almost the same way as she had been holding the dream-Giles. The others were all looking on anxiously.

For a shocked moment, she sat, paralysed. This wasn't at all how she expected it to happen.

"It's over. You're safe now. Everyone's going to leave now, so you can have some privacy," she added, looking at them meaningfully, a plea in her eyes.

Too terrified to get her hopes up, Buffy waited until they all turned and filed out before shifting to where she could see his eyes, his face, as soon as the door closed behind them.

"Ethan can't hurt you," she said softly. "Nobody can hurt you now. Talk to me, Giles," she begged.

"I'm here," she reiterated, taking his face in her hands, trying not to notice the reflex cringing of his battered body. "Stay with me!" she demanded, holding the sea-green eyes, trying not to cry at the fear, the horror in them even as he struggled, her heart aching for him as he battled, yet again, to defeat the darkness.

The dark-lashed lids opened again for a moment, soft eyes focusing on her face, their depths filled with a melancholy sadness that made her eyes prick with tears.

Panic seized her. She didn't know what to do. There was nothing left to tell him...no...

"You can't leave me," she told him, this time in a definitive voice, "because..." she moved her mouth to his. At first his lips were unresponsive, but as she poured more and more of herself into the salute, he began to respond, just enough for her to be moved to redouble her efforts.

She slid her arms around his neck and continued to make love to him, before finally pulling back when she realised that he'd stopped trembling.

Their eyes met, and Buffy realised that the semi-catatonic glaze had gone from the beautiful sea-green ones now staring so deeply into hers, as though searching her soul.

"Is it...are you...?" she stammered, her fingers automatically reaching up to touch his face. She tried again, almost too frightened to hope. "Giles?"

Her fingers wandered to his brow, stroking it gently again, as she had when he was unconscious. He closed his eyes and leaned into her caresses.

Buffy shivered and raised her face to find his velvet mouth again, this time brushing her lips softly against his, first; tasting, offering, hoping, waiting...

Then his weight shifted and Giles was kissing her. She clung to him as he dragged her closer, both their mouths fighting to show the other the depth of their need, their desire, their hearts...

He was trembling again, only this time for a different reason. And, Buffy discovered, so was she.

When they parted again his eyes searched her face, alight with hope, delight, need, his mouth trying to pull into a smile, but still weighed down by the pain of his wounds, both physical and emotional.

Buffy smiled back, tenderly, raising fingers still trembling with the intensity of her feelings, to trace those sensual lips.

Giles' lips parted, and his eyes widened at the memory of his own words, a shadow of fear clouding them.

For a moment he stared, stunned. Then a slow-growing smile grew into an almost beatific radiance, his eyes glistening as he nodded just as slowly.

Lost as she was in his reaction, it took Buffy a very long moment to smile back. When she did, her face seemed to burst into a glow to rival his. She reached out, unable to resist caressing his cheek again, then moved at the same moment as he did.

Their hug was more than a simple embrace...more than a tearful reunion. It was an intertwining of souls, of hearts.

For just a moment they touched. Neither knew how, or why, but for one blinding moment their minds touched again, and in an instant each knew the other's heart and soul...and that they would never be apart again.

Within the warm refuge of each other's arms, both of them had finally come home...

Graham deployed his men around the park, ready to move in, professionally and carefully.

"Just didn't want the Hostile to escape, sir. Thought you'd be pleased to interrogate him once we had him under control."

Ethan blew out an irritated breath. The only thing more irritating than an American, was an energetically enthusiastic, youthful one.

"You little pissant!" Ethan said as soon as he was close enough, momentarily forgetting his earlier suspicions. "Whoever you're waiting for isn't coming."

Goaded, Ethan lunged forward to grab the demon and reared back when he was suddenly confronted by a multi-limbed, scaled beast with a maw the size of hippo's but filled with needle-sharp teeth.

Adrenaline pumping, and shaking with both fear and rage, Ethan motioned his bodyguards forward, but the creature suddenly vanished. It took several moments for both Ethan and the Druul to realise that Edof had morphed into a tiny, furry creature and vanished into the undergrowth.

Ethan roared at the commandos to get up to him, which they did at pace when Graham yelped a confirming command.

"Find that little bastard, now! He's here, somewhere. Use that bloody scanner of yours. That's what it's for!" the Englishman spat with controlled violence in his voice.

Edof watched them from his perch in a nearby tree, happy in the form of the nearest thing in his dimension to a bird: a small reptilian creature more reminiscent of a bonsai pterodactyl than a sparrow.

He chuckled to himself, and would have grinned, if his beak had permitted, smug in the knowledge that each time he morphed, the scanner would have to re-calibrate for several moments before it could adjust for the changes, particularly the lack of pheromones in many of the reptilian and insect forms he took.

He also knew they wouldn't leave while he was still registering on the Initiative's scanner, and he could keep them busy for hours, or at least until his objective was accomplished.

By the time the commandos had turned in his direction, he'd morphed again, this time into an insect no terrestrial would recognise, scampered down through the tree bark to the ground, shifted to serpentine form and slithered out of sight again, heading for Ethan Rayne and his henchmen.

Rayne was skulking by the playground equipment while the Druul foraged semi-uselessly, ironically, forbidden to leave their posts as his personal bodyguards.

Edof worked his way around to the Druul farthest removed, and morphed into the largest, most viscous creature he could manifest; the only guise in which he knew his people could reliably defeat a Druul, in the right conditions.

Screams filled the night as they clashed, Edof's multi-limbed, teeth and talons nightmare tearing the stinger-wielding arthropod to pieces as the Commandos raced to where the battle raged. Shots were fired, even before Graham was able to give the order, but Edof had gone, back into serpent form, already through the nearest bushes and out of sight.

Ethan was beside himself, fear compounding his rage. "You fools! Without the Druul we're done! We can't take the Slayer without them!"

"So send for more, asshole," one of the commandos muttered and the others snickered.

"Very funny, pillock," the Englishman snarled. "For your information this species doesn't leave its own dimension. It took all my own connections, and a significant amount of your military's resources, to recruit the six we had, and the bloody Slayer has already torn two of them apart with her bare hands."

"Jesus," muttered another commando, and Graham went a little pale, looking the remaining Druul up and down and considering his chances, unarmed, against even one.

The Englishman's nostrils flared. "Don't just stand there looking at me, grunt! Get it! NOW!"

"MacKenzie! Keep calling it this time! I want updates every thirty seconds!" Graham panted as they sprinted toward the north end of the park.

Doubling back, beneath their feet, Edof smiled inwardly as he cut through the dark loam as though it was butter. It wasn't one of his favourite forms: the Botleth worm, though it was the fastest subterranean form he knew. For one thing, the aftertaste of dirt stayed with him for hours, and for another he didn't like the claustrophobic snugness of being underground.

It took several minutes to reach the playground again. He heard MacKenzie call his re- emergence as soon as he broke through and transformed into the giant, multi-limbed Rogarra again.

By the time the soldiers responded to Ethan screaming histrionic orders, however, the last Druul had lunged and almost found it's target with its lethal stinger, only to be side-stepped and seized with a multitude of talons.

Ethan swore as a chunk of oozing yellow carapace hit him in the thigh and slid down his pants, leaving a sticky, foul-smelling stain.

He was still berating the Initiative's best, as Edof, transformed now, into a sleek, whippet-sized feline no cat-lover would recognize, bolted from the park and into the row of residences across the street. Once he had reached the roof of one of the houses he sat smugly for a few moments, flicking his tail as he watched Ethan rant at the soldier boys, who were already walking away, leaving the red-faced Englishman completely alone.

The small demon waited long enough to see Rayne realize his vulnerability, and panic, bolting after them, before bounding away, sniggering to himself as much as his carnivore's mouth would allow.

Everyone filed back into the room, almost creeping, until they realised that Buffy's expression was calm and relaxed. She was holding Giles' hand, or rather, he was holding fast to hers, almost like an anchor. She smiled at them as they surrounded her.

"I think it's going to be okay," she said softly. "He's asleep...he was exhausted."

"A really battered, fragile, going-to-take-a-long-time-to-heal piece, but yeah. I think he's going to be okay. He needs to see a doctor about the physical wounds...the ribs, the bruises, his head, and stuff, but I'm not sure he can face strangers right now."

Buffy's seemed to do the same, almost in sympathy with the other girl, but her expression was distant when she nodded again...as though the reality was beyond the explaining of it.

"We-we can't stay here. I should be out there, dealing with Ethan, so I can take Giles home. He needs to be home; somewhere that feels warm and safe and familiar." She frowned and looked up at Tara. "N-not that your place isn't really cool. It's nice. Real nice. It's just...not..."

Willow frowned in thought. "Y'know, we could, maybe get Angel and Wesley to help. I know they would...a-and then you could stay with Giles, and—"

Buffy was shaking her head. "No," she said determinedly, brushing Giles' temple with the backs of her fingers.

"But—" Willow began, pausing again when Xander laid a hand on her arm, his eyes on the suddenly haunted expression on Buffy's face.

"No," he said softly. "We'll deal with it. It's our problem. I think, maybe, the past should stay in the past."

Willow looked from one to the other. "Oh," she finally said, then frowned. "I guess... except we don't know anyone else who can kill demons or kick Ethan's butt...a-anyone who isn't in Iowa, that is," she added awkwardly.

Buffy looked up slowly and blinked, as though realising for the first time that there were still issues to be resolved.

"If Edof isn't back soon, I'll have to go," she said quietly. "I don't know if Riley will even come back at all...now."

Xander blinked. "He's in Iowa? Since when?" Something occurred to him. "Uh-oh. Fight, huh...?" he asked without thinking.

It was Xander's turn to look consternated. His dark eyes flicked from one to the other before he opened his mouth to ask the question, only to be interrupted by Tara yelping and jumping when something warm brushed by her leg.

The strangest looking silver-mottled, black, cat-like creature had somehow gotten into the building. Tara opened her mouth to exclaim, when it morphed into a familiar figure.

"The threat is nullified," he told them, "for now. Rayne will have to find refuge somewhere. He has many connections among the legions of Chaos, but I doubt you'll see him for a very long time. He's already been a guest of your military once, and believe me, now that he has failed them, he does not want to go back there again."

The tension seemed to flow out of Buffy then, leaving her visibly limp when she looked up at the others, her hand tightening protectively around the one she was holding.

Giles tolerated the journey, borne only by the lone Xander in his borrowed vehicle, and sharing the back seat with Buffy.

He had acquiesced without argument to the suggestion to sit in the back where he would have more room for his battered limbs and ribs, but when Buffy sneaked a peak at him as she moved to slide into the front seat, she changed direction and climbed into the back with him.

Little was showing on his handsome, but ravaged face, but the rigid posture, the clenched fist stuffed down by his right pants leg, and the fact that, with the whole seat to himself, he'd scrunched in one corner, told a very different story.

Buffy slid across and touched his face, immediately syphoning off some of the tension, then gingerly eased herself into a position where she was curled up in the crook of his arm. It closed immediately, almost convulsively, around her. She nuzzled her cheek into his breast as she offered him her hand, and felt it engulfed by his free one, clenched tightly and held all the way home.

Xander, stealing occasional glances in the rear view mirror, bit his lip several times and swallowed before focusing hard on the road, while he could still see clearly enough to drive.

At the flat, Giles allowed him to assist Buffy to help him walk the short distance from the car, into the terrace, and down to his front door.

Out of habit more than anything, they waited for him to unlock it, himself. When the door handle turned, Buffy flicked a grateful, but speaking, glance to Xander.

He managed a forced smile, and brought his hands together. "Okay, guys. Got everyone home in one piece, and now I have to get back to the old ball and chain. You two kids try not to have TOO much fun without me," he added, nervous energy making him bounce a little on the spot.

"Th-thankyou, Xander," Giles managed, without looking up, as much as he'd managed in a sentence since he'd woken again.

Xander stopped bouncing and cleared his throat, before tentatively sliding a hand onto his friend's shoulder.

"He'll be okay," Buffy said softly, as they both watched him disappear. "He just cares about you. We all do."

"I know," he whispered, and squeezed the shoulders he was probably leaning too much weight on, had it been anyone but Buffy, his eyes just crinkling at the corners as he looked down at her with a weary, almost-smile.

Buffy smiled back, then reached in and flicked on the light before they moved forward. She kicked the door closed with a nasty crack after Giles had eased himself in.

He closed his eyes, a pained expression endearingly reminiscent of old times, on his face. "Tell me nothing broke?" he asked, the faintest hint of teasing in his voice.

Buffy looked back and wrinkled her nose before smiling up at him. "Nothing important, anyway," she said cheerfully, as they worked their way around to the foot of the stairs, and enjoyed the grumpy grunt she got in reply.

When they reached it, Buffy slipped away for a moment, to his ancient stereo, only to discover a small metallic purple and silver Discman and speakers sitting on it. She recognised it: Willow's. Still, whatever was in it would be something he liked. When it started, she was surprised to find that it was Sarah McLachlan.

Giles was leaning on the stair rail when she reached him and slid her arm around his waist again.

She shrugged. "I never realised before how big and quiet this place is when nobody else is here...how—"

She met his eyes, just for a moment, a lifetime passing between them without a word. A moment later they turned by mutual assent, and started up the stairs, Buffy bearing almost all Giles' weight as they took one step at a time.

"Xander is going to see Doctor Phipps...you remember her? The one who didn't ask any questions when we took you to the ER with those Tras'zi claws still in your arm, because we couldn't get them out? You know...with all the little hooks in the—"

She smiled self-consciously. "Anyway, you need to see a doctor, and we need one we can trust. We all think she knows a lot more than she let on, so he's going to see if she'll consider making a house call."

Buffy could hear the reluctance in his voice, but it would do for now. "C'mon, let's get you into your own bed. You can shower later. Right now you need to rest."

He allowed her to sit him on the bed, even to remove his shoes and socks, but a large hand covered hers when she started on the shirt buttons.

For a moment, she just looked at him, her heart swinging wildly between sorrow that he still had such doubts, and love, because, despite everything, he was still thinking about her...

The jade green eyes searched her face, still bright in their weary, bloodshot homes.

Buffy leaned forward and brushed his mouth with hers, very tenderly, before starting on the buttons again and holding his fragile gaze. "I'm already home."

He stopped her again when the buttons were undone. "R-really need a shower. Feels like...like I've been dunked in egg white...a-and rolled in the dirt."

Giles snorted, then unexpectedly touched her cheek, smiling when she looked at him curiously.

"Oh," she said a moment later, and smiled. "I'm glad I got to meet him, sort of. Rupert was a pretty good guy...kinda like you."

Still a little self-conscious, Buffy helped him up and they made the long trip to the bathroom, again primarily dependent on her ability to support his full weight. She helped him to sit down on the john to rest, acutely aware of the pain he was in from the jarring of his injuries, and his rasping breaths.

"I hope this is going to be worth it. Maybe I should get something to make a step...um ...for the tub," she offered uncomfortably.

The gesture made her finally realised how stupid she was being. Instinctively, she put her arms around his shoulders and rested her brow on the top of his head for a long moment.

"No. We'll do this together," she said softly, and felt him begin to move. "Together," she repeated, and lifted her head.

He looked up at her, clearly conflicted about the pace with which everything was happening.

In reply, Buffy gently stripped off his open shirt, before straightening and removing her own guts and blood-plastered blouse before he could say anything.

Giles' lips parted and he swallowed at the heretofore-unseen vision now before him.

"Up," she said briskly before either of them could think too much about it, and eased him to his feet, once again using almost all her own strength, until she had steadied and released him.

He swayed as she undid his belt and zipper and dropped his pants, before sitting him down again and dragging them off.

Giles watched her go back to the tub without looking at him again, then dragged his palms over his face, overwhelmed. His instinct was to find a dark corner and huddle in it...and never come out, and he didn't know how much longer he could resist it.

With the shower blasting at a comfortable temperature, Buffy removed her own shoes and pants and went back to Giles, but stopped short, shocked to see how distressed he was again. After a beat, she moved decisively.

"Giles, we don't have to do this," she said softly, kneeling in front of him when he didn't respond, and putting her hands comfortingly on his knees.

"Shouldn't have to?" Buffy repeated, and pulled his hands from where his brow was resting against them, and held them close. "I don't want to be anywhere else, or do anything else. I meant what I said, before," she finished, almost angrily.

"We can do this," she said, before he could argue, rising and bringing him to his feet, "together."

Buffy supported his back and helped him lift a trembling leg, and then the other, as he slowly shifted his weight and twisted his body so that he was facing the water.

In a moment she was in it with him, helping him to stand, supporting him as they moved into the blast of steaming water.

She jumped when he gasped unexpectedly and took a few moments to realise that it was the first time a lot of the cuts, grazes and contusions on his battered body had been wet. He made an angry noise of pure pain, then blew out a breath between clenched teeth.

"I'm guessing this isn't a good time for soap?" Buffy asked, trying to keep the trembling from her voice, and the tears from her throat.

"N-not really," he hissed through the same clenched teeth, ignoring her half-hearted attempt at humour, and drew away from her. "But...n-no choice."

She bit her lip and picked up the bar, intending to hand it to him, but one of his fists was clenched against the pain, the other arm bracing his weight against the wall.

Silently, she moved forward and began to wash his tensed back, ignoring the lathered soap running down into the wet, dark blue briefs. By the time she'd moved to his arms and shoulders he was shaking from more than just pain. She stopped, acutely aware of the small choking sounds coming from his throat, but lost as to how to help.

And then she was moving again to catch him as he slid bonelessly down into the tub, enfolding him automatically in her arms and holding him as he wept, both of them saturated by the water that continued to blast onto them, heedless of the drama below.

When he grew quiet and the trembling stopped, Buffy rose enough to turn off the now barely tepid water, without losing contact with him.

There was no conversation, no negotiation as she took over and calmly and efficiently got him out of the tub and back onto the pedestal, before finding a big towel and systematically drying him, also without invitation or conversation.

He looked resolutely away as she worked, as though he could pretend he wasn't there, even when she dried his hair like a small child, not even flinching at the pain of her rubbing where Ethan had struck him on the head.

When she was done, Buffy towelled herself down impatiently, ignoring her nakedness to bring him to the washbasin, where she found toothpaste and a brush for him.

He took them silently and used them mechanically, dropping them in the hand basin when he was done.

"Not your best piece of filing there, Book-guy," she observed dryly, breaking the silence at last.

"I like it though," she added. "Spontaneous, different. These things are of the good. Now we're going to get you spontaneously up to bed and some decent rest."

He didn't speak, choosing only to turn and momentarily draw her against him. He rested his chin on her head, the utter bleakness of his expression unseen as she lay against his breast.

By the time Buffy had all-but-carried him back to the loft, he could barely walk.

"No..." She stopped him from sitting on the bed. "Wetness," she reminded him, running her forefinger across the dripping blue stretch band across his lean hips. "Wait."

"Drop 'em and get in," she ordered, not turning until she felt him do as she ordered and heard the compression of the innerspring mattress.

"I know you had something at Tara's place before we left, but if you want a drink, or something to eat...?" she asked, unconsciously smoothing the quilt over him.

The eyes that opened and looked up at her when she mentioned the word drink, spoke volumes, both about how much he wanted a *drink*...and how much he didn't.

The Sarah McLachlan CD downstairs had started again from the beginning. As the singer's voice faded at the end of the first song, Buffy interlinked her fingers with Giles' again.

"I like...this..." he said, almost embarrassed, and winced again in pain as the second track became audible.

Buffy lifted her face and focused on the words. She knew the tune: 'Possession'.

By the second chorus the tears had come. By the end her eyes were closed and her head down.

For the longest time their eyes held, and then she was moving around, slipping off her own wet things before sliding under the covers and into the refuge of his arms.

In the warmth and security of the big bed, they curled up as though inside each other, shielding one another, and held each other through the night.

When the sunlight played across them in the morning, they were both surprised to find they'd slept undisturbed, all night, and were still curled up exactly as they had been the night before.

At the same moment, they became aware of their nakedness, moved to draw apart, and at the same instant, came back together.

"It wasn't a dream," Buffy sighed into his chest as his arms tightened ferociously around her again.

"No," he said hoarsely into her hair. "Y-you're not...frightened?" he asked carefully.

He looked up at the ceiling, resting the point of his chin on her crown. "Terrified," he croaked.

Giles watched her with a racing pulse, and a problem he couldn't exactly hide, but she wasn't reacting to it, or leaving his bed, and she didn't speak.

Instead, her tender mouth moved to gather his, speaking to him on a level no words could touch. After a moment's hesitation, he kissed her back.

For long minutes they merged into one, discovering, teaching each other, until, finally, Buffy pulled back.

But she didn't need a response to see the answer in his eyes. Her fingers traced the deep lines the last days had carved from the corners of his eyes to his mouth.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Probably the guys checking in. I'll go," she said, and slid out of bed, pulling a shirt from his tallboy as she left.

By the time she'd reached the phone, she had put the striped business shirt on and mercifully terminated Ms McLachlan's marathon night.

Giles was on the landing when she answered it. A powerful need to answer nature's call had prompted him to test his legs. So far he was doing a great deal better than the previous day. He was about to say something to let Buffy know not to panic when she saw him up, when she spoke.

"Well, hi," she said, smiling. "I thought you were doing the home, hearth and nostalgia thing for another two weeks at least?"

Unaware that she had an audience, Buffy listened to Riley's teasing with enjoyment mixed with sadness. She didn't want to hurt him, but she was going to have to soon. He was so sweet, but she'd known since her long ago heart-to-heart with Willow that he wasn't the one, despite the fact that she hadn't yet recognised who was.

"...And I couldn't wait any longer. Buffy, I missed you so much. I came back to...to ...ask you..." The young soldier hesitated. "Well, it's not something you do over the phone anyway."

Buffy swallowed hard. She'd picked a great time to zone back in on the conversation again.

"Then, don't," she said, a little more urgently than she would have liked. "I was going to wait until you got back...but some things have happened. Everything's changed."

"No. No! Nobody died. No end of the world stuff. It's me. I've changed, Riley. What we've had together...it was special...and it was good...but I know now that I was being...wait, let me finish, please! I was being so unfair to you. I thought I was over Angel...no, it's nothing to do with Angel. No, I swear. He's still in Los Angeles. Hasn't been anywhere near here. Will you listen to me? I thought I was over all the baggage, that Parker had put everything into perspective, and that I was ready to move on. I wasn't. All I did was make walls. And then you came along and it was easy. I shut out everyone who could hurt me, who loved me, and it was just us..." Buffy hesitated, looked at the receiver then put it to her ear again. "Riley, are you still there?" There was another pause, then: "I'm *so* sorry. I thought it was all of the good, that I was having a normal relationship. I wasn't. I was having a fairy tale. You know, Slayer-gets-normal-life kinda deal."

There was a long silence while she listened to Riley speak. "I know," she said, pain in her voice. "And I love you too..."

His green eyes widened, colour rushing alarmingly back into the face that had just turned white.

"Riley, I care about you. I always will, but I'm not in love with you. I never was. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I loved Angel so much...there was only one reason I was able to let him go...only one reason why breaking up with him didn't kill me..."

"No, God. Riley, stop it. I know you have vampire issues, but Angel is not an issue here. He stopped being an issue a long time ago. I just didn't realise it for a very long time."

Moisture rose in her eyes at the pain in the boy's desperate voice, as he demanded to know who it was who had taken her from him.

She closed her eyes when, after a stunned silence, Riley launched into the inevitable tirade.

"Riley...RILEY! Riley, shut up!" she said, when he'd worked himself into a real state.

"First of all, I've always loved him...no, not like that, potty brain. I just didn't realise I'd fallen in love with him until now. No, it's not. It's real, it's painful, and I have no idea what's going to happen next. Even if, for some reason, I wake up and everything that's happened in the last few days turns out to be just a dream, I can't be with you any more. Not knowing what I know now. Not feeling what I feel now. What? Yes, I'm sure. I love him, Riley. With every part of me, everything that I am, everything I have to give him. No, I haven't felt like this since before Angel turned. I haven't let myself feel anything for so long. What? No, it's not your fault. I just...I was so scared of being hurt like that again."

"Don't, Riley. Please, don't. You're a wonderful, sweet guy and you gave me a chance to be happy without being scared all the time. I'll never forget that. No, it doesn't matter. Of course he can hurt me. Don't you understand? I love him so much...it doesn't matter. Besides, he could never hurt me as much as I've hurt him. Not in a million years. No, Riley. Don't come...stay with your family. No, I wish you didn't have to be hurt...but there's nothing to talk about. I'm sorry too, but I can't change the way I feel. No, please don't come. You're in the best place you can be right now. Stay there. Me? I'm...I'm here. With Gi...Rupert. Some major stuff has happened. I know Graham will fill you in eventually, but I need to be here now, and if he wants me to stay, I'll be staying here, with him."

There was another long silence before Buffy hung up the receiver with a trembling hand and broke down in tears.

Giles immediately struggled to his feet, made his way stiffly down the steps and across to where she was standing, and gathered her into his arms.

She nodded back "It was horrible. But I had to." Her soft greyish eyes, almost blue as they rolled up to meet his, glistened. "I had to."

Then her arms moved around his neck and his drew her hard against him as their mouths met again in a kiss that held nothing back, knew no secrets. They were both breathless when they finally parted.

"This is the part where you're supposed to sweep me into your arms and carry me to your bed," she said playfully, though her voice was still less than steady.

Giles guffawed. "Yes, right. Sweep you into my arms and watch us both sprawl like a felled tree across my floor," he growled, holding up his hands to show her how much they were shaking from the effort he'd already made.

She grinned back at him, then reached up and kissed his lips. "In that case, we'd better settle for breakfast in bed."

He kissed hers back greedily and then groaned against them. "Bugger and damn," he muttered.

"My sentiments exactly," she agreed, a shiver of desire rippling down her spine as she spoke. "But we have plenty of time, now."

His eyes looked into hers, the tiniest of gleams dancing in their soft green depths, as they turned for the stairs, Giles necessarily leaning heavily on her shoulders again.

Leaning back into him, Buffy smiled back, warmth spreading through her at his aura of happiness and pleasure.

Above her head, Giles' weary, pain-etched face softened into unfamiliar territory, love, peace, and real joy lighting it, as he dropped a contented kiss on her hair.