TITLE: Death Brings Clarity
AUTHOR: JK Philips
RATING: PG-13 (swearing)
SUMMARY: From “Spiral” to “The Gift” followed by my own attempt to put things right. Giles has a moment of clarity, but it’s too late. How he deals with Buffy’s death and how she comes back to him.
SPOILERS: Everything up to “The Gift”
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.
EMAIL:
. Would love feedback. This is my first fanfic ever. :)MY WEBSITE: www.jkphilips.com
--------------------------------------------------- Part 5: The Spell His breakfast sat untouched. Giles had a throbbing headache this morning, and Dawn wasn’t helping any. “The one time I actually want to do something for school, and you won’t let me? It’s bad enough I have to go to summer school. I should at least be able to do the fun stuff that goes with it. Please. I actually have friends that are going to be on this trip.” Giles massaged his temples and took another sip of tea. “No. There is something very important happening tonight, Dawn, and I don’t want you out of the house. Especially not after dark.” “It’s like two hours in the observatory and planetarium with like 30 other kids. How dangerous can that be? Oh, there’ll be teachers there, too.” Dawn watched him with her best puppy dog eyes as she pushed her eggs around her plate. “I said no. Please don’t argue with me. And eat your breakfast; you’re going to be late.” Dawn sighed and dropped her head in her hands. It would certainly be the end of the world if she didn’t get to go on her class field trip. She had a sudden thought. “What if they fail me?” “They’re not going to fail you.” Giles dumped his uneaten breakfast in the trash and laid his plate in the sink. “They could. This is all going to be on a test. The field trip was mandatory.” Giles returned to his cup of tea. “Then tell your teacher that I will take you stargazing another night.” Dawn frowned. “Is this because I didn’t want you to chaperone? ’Cause they might still have room.” Giles laughed. He reached out one hand and cupped her chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze. “This is because I don’t want you out after dark tonight. I want you here in the house where I’ll know you’ll be safe.” He walked out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Five minutes, Dawn, and then we have to leave.” She sulked the entire drive to school, not even saying goodbye as she climbed out of the car. Well, it seems her mood has certainly changed from yesterday. Last night I could do wrong. This morning I’m her jailer. The others were already waiting for him at the magic shop. They had until nightfall to figure out where Marcus and Nicole were and where they planned to perform the ritual. The earliest the vampires could cast the spell would be midnight, when the moon would be at its peak. The power would wane after that, so Marcus would try to time it as close to midnight as possible. If they couldn’t dust the pair before then, in all likelihood they would be fighting Buffy as well. Giles vowed they would find them before midnight. The morning passed with no luck. Morale was sinking lower. Anya actually missed a customer who had stepped up to the register to pay. Tara took their money, and then drifted back into her own research. Xander even tried beating up Willy the Snitch, but he was much less intimidating without Buffy behind him. Xander gave up fifty bucks, but Willy didn’t know anything either. Giles tried Spike’s crypt, careful to leave out the parts about Buffy. He wasn’t entirely sure that Spike wouldn’t be just as satisfied with an undead Buffy. But Spike hadn’t heard of a vampire watcher and slayer in town and had no idea where they might be staying. He asked after Dawn, and Giles mentioned that he knew Spike hung around the house watching her. Spike shrugged it off as a promise to Buffy, then bent over to light his cigarette, mostly so Giles wouldn’t notice him brush away tears. The two men stood in awkward silence for a few moments, before Giles escaped out into the sunlight. Willow picked Dawn up from school. No one seemed to know how to act around her. It was nearly as bad as when they discovered she was the Key. When she approached any of them, they would hurriedly set aside whatever they were working on and force themselves into an overly cheerful mood. And everyone called her “Dawnie” way too much. “Is this about that Rumplestilskin vampire? ’Cause if this is one of those fairy tales are real deals, I don’t think he’s all that scary. Isn’t he supposed to be like three feet tall?” The others got real quiet. Giles steered Dawn to the back storage room. “I just got a new shipment in this morning. Anya and Tara are otherwise occupied. Do you think you could unpack the boxes and shelve the merchandise for me?” Dawn crossed her arms and looked at the stack of boxes standing against the wall. “I know you’re just trying to get rid of me, so I don’t find out about the big important thing that’s happening tonight.” “Well, then humor me,” Giles said, as he handed her a pocketknife to cut off the packing tape. “Ask me or Anya if you don’t know where something goes.” He left her in the back room and rejoined the others who were desperately trying to figure out how to prevent her sister from becoming a creature of the night. Dawn came in and out as she restocked incense and crystals, amulets and herbs, tarot cards and idols. She even managed shelving the new books under the crazy alphabetical system Xander had found so difficult. Giles realized some time later that Dawn hadn’t reemerged in over an hour. He went in the back to check on her and found her sitting next to a broken Aztec statue, crying. He knelt beside her, began collecting the broken pieces. “It’s all right, Dawn. It’s only a priceless antique. Nothing to cry over. Probably would have just collected dust anyway.” He turned one piece over in his hand, looked at it a bit closer. “Ah, see there, it’s a knockoff besides. No wonder it came so cheaply. I’ll have to talk to my supplier about this. He assured me this was a genuine...” Giles trailed off as he remembered the crying girl on the floor next to him. “Yes, well, never mind about that. Dawn, it’s okay, really. Accidents happen. You think this is the first thing that’s gotten broken in this store? Anya and Willow trashed the whole place while I was in England, and I’ve very nearly forgiven them for it.” Dawn sniffled and wiped her tears away on her sleeve. “It’s not about the statue.” “Then why the tears?” She hugged her legs to her chest and dropped her head to her knees. “Dad called last night, after you guys went on patrol.” She paused, and then asked very softly, so Giles had to bend closer to hear, “Can he really take me away from you?” Giles smoothed back her long brown hair, pulled her in close to him, and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. He couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. “Probably. He is your father.” Giles could see the tears pooling in her eyes as she drew away from him. She leaned her head back against the wall behind her, her eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling paint. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Dad moved to Sunnydale, but I don’t want to go away. What if I never see any of you guys again? I don’t think I could stand it.” “LA’s only two hours away. I think we’d manage to visit.” “But Spain’s a lot farther. It’d be too hard to visit me in Spain. I wouldn’t ever see any of you again.” “Dawn, I think your father’s planning on moving-” “No,” she interrupted loudly, slamming her hands on the ground beside her, the grief in her voice giving way to anger. “That was before, when Buffy was here. But now it’s just me, and Dad said there’s nothing for him to move back for. He said work is going so much better over there that coming back to his LA office would be like taking five steps back.” The tears she had held at bay now overflowed, and she was crying again. She looked so much younger at that moment, as she turned bright terrified eyes towards him. “I’m trying to be brave. I am. That’s what Buffy told me to do before she died. To be brave. But I’m so scared, Giles. First Mom, then Buffy. I just can’t lose all of you, too. I just can’t. I think I finally get what Buffy meant when she said that the hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Because having to go live with my dad in Spain would be hard.” Something clicked inside Giles’ mind. Past Dawn’s grief and her terror, something in her words just clicked. I told Dawn that the hardest thing in this world is to live in it. He slipped his hand under her chin, tipped her teary face up to his. “What did you say, Dawn?” The urgency in his tone and his face startled her out of her crying jag. She blinked up at him a few times before answering. “It would be really hard to have to live in Spain with Dad.” “No, before that. What did Buffy say to you before she died?” “Up on the platform, before she jumped. She told me to take care of her friends. That we should take care of each other. That I should be strong. That the hardest thing in this world is to live in it. And then she told me to be brave and to live for her.” The words from his dream echoed in his head. I told Dawn that the hardest thing in this world is to live in it. I’m real. I’m a ghost, and I’ve been watching over all of you. Live for me. He closed his eyes as he worked through the implications. He couldn’t have known so precisely what Buffy had said to Dawn before she died. The only people who knew that were Dawn and Buffy. The chances that his subconscious mind could have arrived at those final words so exactly, well lottery odds wouldn’t be an unfair comparison. Could Buffy have really visited him in his dream? Could she really be watching over them now? He opened his eyes and smiled at Dawn. His thumb brushed the tears from her cheeks, and then he leaned forward and kissed her again on the forehead. “Come on, luv, get yourself together and then come out to the shop. I need to get you home, so the rest of us can get things ready for tonight.” Giles strolled into the shop, a spring in his step that had been lacking for five weeks. He grabbed his keys from under the register, tossing them in his hand as he called out to the others, “I’m taking Dawn home now. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” The rest of the Scoobies traded glances around the table, clearly baffled by his light mood. Dawn followed behind him a moment later, picking up her backpack and heading towards the front door. She looked as confused as the rest of them. Giles slipped over to Willow’s side and whispered in her ear, “Get whatever you need together for that spell.” Willow did a doubletake as he walked passed her. She hadn’t found her voice until he’d nearly made it to the door. “Giles? Are you sure?” He held the door open for Dawn and called back as he left, “Positive.” Dawn climbed in the passenger seat, studying Giles’ profile carefully. Nearly five blocks from home, she finally asked, “So crisis over?” “Hmmm?” His thoughts had been spinning with the possibilities. He had completely forgotten about Dawn sitting at his side. “Whatever big crisis that was brewing, whatever had everyone so wound up. Is it over now? ’Cause you seem a lot happier.” “Things are certainly looking up.” He pulled into the drive and led the way into the house. Dawn followed him warily, still skeptical of his good mood. Maybe this was what people were like when they were possessed. Maybe she should say something to Willow. Giles turned to her, held her by both shoulders, and gave her a very serious stare. “Now Dawn, listen to me. This is very important. I know it’s not even...” He glanced at the clock behind her. “Not even four o’clock. But I have to leave you home alone for the rest of the night. I told you something important would happen tonight, and we have to be ready for it. I can’t explain more now, and I can’t have you at the store while we’re working. But I promise you, I’ll tell you anything you want to know tomorrow. Now can I trust you? Will you be okay here without me?” Dawn nodded. Giles smiled again and this time it was contagious. “Now you have the number at the store. Call if there are any problems. And here...” Giles pulled a twenty from his wallet. “Order in pizza or something for dinner. But...” He wagged one finger at her. “Don’t invite the delivery man in. Just take it through the door.” “I know, I know.” Giles smiled again. It was as if he couldn’t stop. “I just need a minute alone, Dawn. Okay? I’ll be right down.” She watched him go upstairs and then pause before entering Buffy’s bedroom. That should nix his good mood in a hurry, she thought. She was partly right. Walking into Buffy’s room made the reality of what he was contemplating come crashing in on him. What if he was wrong? What if the dream had been nothing more than a dream, and he was seeing what he wanted to see in it? Then his mistake could very likely cost Buffy her soul. He looked around her room, untouched since she left it to fight Glory. Clothes scattered across the floor, her closet a mess. He picked up the red shirt she had been wearing the day her mother died. He could imagine her digging through her clothes, looking for something to dress the Buffybot in, and discarding this shirt because it had been the one she was wearing that day. He looked around at the other scattered clothes, remembered times she had worn this or that. She probably didn’t think he noticed her clothing, but a watcher was trained to observe and remember. Giles wandered past her dresser. His fingers lingered over her diary. He wondered if Dawn had read it. He wondered if Buffy would be angry if she had. He touched the small ice skating figurine sitting atop a music box. A sweet reminder of a childhood that ended all too quickly. He thought of her 18th birthday, how she had tried to ask him to the ice show, how he had been too preoccupied with the Test to notice at the time. How he wished he could go back and change things, prevent that most terrible betrayal of her, and take her to the ice show instead. He turned towards her bed. The covers were rumpled. Dawn slept in here sometimes. Giles envied her that. For him to sleep in Buffy’s bed would be an inappropriate intimacy. But how sweet would that be, to fall asleep surrounded by her and to wake the same? He wondered if he would have a night without dreams in her bed. He sat on the edge of the bed. He buried his face in her red shirt, breathed deeply of her scent, and then let it drop to the floor. He bowed his head as a man in prayer might. “Buffy,” he said aloud. “I don’t know if you’re in this room with me, watching. I want to believe that you are. “I’ve never been what you could call religious. After everything we’ve seen, I have to believe in a higher power. But I can’t remember the last time I’ve prayed. It would feel a bit hypocritical of me now to pray to a God I can barely conceive of, a God who would send children out night after night to fight and die against creatures that would give grown men nightmares, a God who would ask you to choose between your life and your sister’s. “I can’t pray to Him. I’m still too angry, too hurt. So I want... I need... to pray to you. “Buffy, there’s a chance, a small chance that we can bring you back alive and whole. I’m taking a big risk. I’m hoping that you did come to me that night in my dream and that I’m not just deluding myself. What you said to me then, the exact words you said to Dawn. I have to believe that’s not just coincidence. But it might be. Or you might have moved on since then. It’s been a couple days. Or the spell might not work, or we might get the timing wrong, or Marcus might turn you before we can stop him. “Oh, Buffy...” His voice broke then and his eyes lifted, as if he might see some sign that she were there. He lowered his head again and closed his eyes. “Buffy, if I’m wrong, if I mess this up, I could cost you your soul. I wish I knew what you wanted me to do. Maybe I’m just being selfish by even wanting to try. But I remember you always took the biggest risks. You were never one to play it safe.” He chuckled. “Not even when I wanted you to. I imagine you wouldn’t like to play it safe in death either. I hope I’m right about that. “Buffy, I’m asking you to forgive me for what I’m about to do. For gambling with your soul. If I fail, if you’re gone or trapped because of me, I just want to tell you right now... I love you. You are my reason, my purpose, my life, my Slayer, my Buffy. “And I swear to you, I will watch over Dawn, her children, her grandchildren maybe. I’ll watch over her until the end of my days. I’ll even go to goddamn Spain if I have to. Your sister will be fine. I swear it.” He took a shaking breath then, and stood. His eyes traveled across the room one last time, across her things. He placed his hand over his heart. “Amen,” he said softly. And then he took the onyx pinky ring from his left hand, the ring that he had worn since becoming a watcher, the ring that never left his finger. He took his ring, kissed it, and laid it gently on her nightstand. *** The plan formed over the rest of the afternoon and evening. The only missing piece was the location of the ritual. They had to get to Marcus and Nicole before they could turn Buffy. And so they continued researching. Through Marcus’ diaries, through every reference to Marcus and Nicole’s vampire exploits, looking for some pattern that would hint where they might be staying or where they were likely to practice magic. But the only pattern seemed to be the lack of a pattern. The two vampires had stayed in everything from dank crypts to posh mansions. They could be anywhere in Sunnydale, perhaps even outside of Sunnydale. “Ok, I have these babies all programmed and charged up,” Willow was saying. “Here’s yours, Giles.” She handed him a small cell phone. He looked at it with something approaching dread. Willow leaned over him and demonstrated how to operate it. “Tara and I have one. That’s one on your speed dial. Remember, one for your number one witches.” Willow smiled, and Giles rolled his eyes. “Just press the button for a second, and the phone will dial for you. Anya and Xander each have one. They’re two and three on your speed dial. Two for Anya, because she’s your number two in the store. And three for Xander, because he’s... he’s...” She thought for a moment. Xander jumped in. “Because he’s got three of the silliest girl friends in the world?” “Ok, that works. And Dawn at the house is four on your speed dial. Because...” “Because we’re doing this ‘four’ her?” Giles finished sarcastically. Willow patted him on the shoulder. “Now you’re getting in the spirit. Should I quiz you?” Giles slipped the phone in his jacket pocket. “I am a watcher, you know, Willow. Memory is not generally an issue.” “Oh Ick!” Anya cried from behind them. The other Slayerettes turned to see what the problem was. She was making a face, deeply engrossed in her book. “What is it, An?” Xander asked, startling her. She obviously hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. “I’m reading one of these journals from the year Marcus turned Nicole.” Anya flipped the book closed for a moment, holding her place, and looked at the cover. “Helena Collins, COW. Why would any woman call herself a cow?” Giles sighed. “It stands for Council of Watchers. Please go on.” “Oh, right. Anyway, she talks about the murder of Nicole’s brother. I just thought it was pretty brutal, and I was a vengeance demon. Do you think Marcus did it? Or did Nicole kill her own brother?” Giles considered her question for a moment. “It’s not unheard for vampires to kill their family or friends, sometimes even turn them as well. I believe I remember reading that Angelus killed his entire family.” Giles tried to sound casual when he said it. He tried to push back the memory of those long hours of torture when Angelus had described for him in graphic detail just how he had killed each member of his family, had demonstrated on Giles some of the things he had done to them before they died. “Great,” Anya said. “Does that mean if Buffy becomes a vampire, she’s gonna try to kill all of us?” “I don’t think that’s what happened to Nicole’s brother,” Willow said. She was thinking hard, chewing absently on one fingernail, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Something about this ritual has been bothering me all day. I think I know what it is. Every other resurrection spell I’ve come across needs something from the deceased or their family. A picture, or a lock of hair, or a personal item, or something. And this spell doesn’t mention anything like that.” Suddenly Willow gasped, her eyes wide as saucers. “Giles, it has to be sanctified in blood. I think it meant blood blood as in blood kin. Giles, I think Marcus needed the blood of Nicole’s brother to do the spell.” “Dawn!” Giles had his keys and was halfway out the door before they could react. He stopped in the doorway, pointed back at Willow. “Get Dawn on the phone. Keep her on the phone. Make sure she doesn’t leave the house.” Giles had wondered what more could go wrong in his life. Now he knew. *** Hank and Susan were waiting for him in the living room. A man he didn’t recognize was standing by the fireplace. Hank rose and headed Giles off in the foyer, his demeanor barely civil. “Mr. Giles, this is Harold Cates, my attorney. If we could all sit down and discuss-” “I don’t have time for this,” Giles snapped. “Where is Dawn?” “I took her to the observatory for her field trip. She said you wouldn’t let her go.” Giles turned on his heel and was out the front door, Hank chasing him down the driveway. “Mr. Giles, if you think you can keep my daughter under some kind of house arrest just because you’re afraid I’m going to take her-” Hank grabbed for Giles’ arm, but if he thought he could hold up the other man through sheer physical intimidation, he had yet to meet Ripper. Giles shoved him backwards, hard, hard enough to send Hank sprawling on his butt on the front lawn. Giles jumped in his car, slamming the door shut. Hank was not going to give up. The top to the BMW was down, and before Giles could start the car, Dawn’s father was back on his feet and leaning into the car over him. “You don’t think I know what this is about. I know what you’re after. My daughter’s trust fund is worth close to quarter of a million. If I have custody, you won’t be able to touch it.” Giles had finally reached his limit. He grabbed a fistful of Hank’s shirt and pulled him closer, feeding him his best Ripper glare. It was the look of a man that had survived demons, vampires, gods, torture, and seven apocalypses, more or less, and wasn’t going to be threatened by a little man like Hank Summers. “If anything happens to that child, I swear to God you are going to wish you had never come to Sunnydale.” He released Hank, rather abruptly, and the man stumbled backwards. “One more thing. I may not be able to stop you from taking Dawn, but the house is mine not hers. So I have every right under the law to demand that you not be in it when I return.” Giles started the car and backed out of the driveway with all the power his “ultimate driving machine” could muster. “Good show, Giles,” he muttered to himself as he broke every speed limit. “And in front of the man’s lawyer, no less. I’m sure that little display will be quickly filed in a brief under ‘violent tendencies’ and ‘reckless behavior.’” Right now that didn’t matter. Right now all that mattered was getting to Dawn before Marcus and Nicole could. Otherwise, the debate over custody would be rather pointless. *** Her teachers were sure they had seen her in the back row of the planetarium. The staff were in the middle of giving a presentation to the students before moving them on to the observatory and its high-powered telescopes. The theatre was pitch black, only false starlight and moonlight illuminating the rows of nearly empty seats. Thirty-some students scattered across the space meant for 200, all of them fully reclined back to view the night sky projected above them. It meant he couldn’t see anyone at a distance, had to search each row, get up close to each reclining student before he could see that they weren’t Dawn. He called softly for her, asked each person he passed if they had seen her. Behind him, a teacher droned on about light traveling over time. The light from Vega, over twenty-five years old. The light from Antares, more than five hundred and twenty. Each prick of light like a window to the past. Very soon Giles would have his own window to the past. Which star would show him the light from five weeks ago? Which was the window to the night Buffy died? And if he failed here tonight, would the light in his heart go out like a dead star, would his life be nothing but darkness? Giles was beginning to get frantic. He turned his watch until it caught the moonlight. 10:07. He looked up at the dome above him, with its artificial sky and moon, and wondered how far the full moon had risen in the real night sky. Less than two hours until the ritual. He backtracked down the aisle he had just come from, aiming for the seats on the other side of the theater, the ones he hadn’t checked yet. A teenager in an aisle seat he had passed a moment earlier flagged him down. “Hey, Mister, you that English dude who brings Dawn to school?” “Yes,” Giles answered, kneeling beside the boy’s chair. “Have you seen her?” The student ignored him and turned towards his friend, punching the other teenager in the arm. “I told you that other guy wasn’t him.” His friend just shrugged and shoved back, but Giles was dragging the first boy around by the arm to face him. “What other guy?” The teenager wrenched his arm from Giles’ grasp, smoothed out the fabric of his shirt, and scowled at the older man. “There was another guy in here. He had an accent like yours too. ’Bout a half hour ago, he was in here asking around for Dawn. I told Rick he wasn’t you. That guy was dressed all funky, like Obi wan Kenobe or something with the weird robe thing going on. I told Rick the guy who brings Dawn to school is too much of a tight-ass to dress like that.” The young teen looked down at Giles’ Oxford shirt, his silk tie, his corduroy jacket, then looked back up with a raised brow and a smirk. “Did she leave with him?” “Yeah, I saw them go out the back door together.” Giles swore with such vehemence, that the teen next to him seemed to reconsider his evaluation of the “English dude.” Giles exited the observatory and planetarium, was dialing his cell phone as he jogged to his car. Marcus took Dawn at least a half hour ago. Christ, they could be anywhere by now, were probably ready to perform the ritual, and he had no idea where to even begin looking. Giles looked at his watch again: 10:15. They were running out of time. The phone was ringing. Willow answered, sounding perhaps a bit surprised that Giles had figured out how to work his new toy. He started the car as he updated her, then asked her to bring everyone to the house. Somehow Marcus had known Dawn would be at the observatory for a field trip, had planned for it in fact. It was possible he had been watching them all this time, mapping out their routines and schedules. The Magic Box wouldn’t be safe. The house, at least, would require an invite, so Willow and Tara would do their spell there. Oh, and be sure to bring weapons. He hung up the phone, tossed it on the seat next to him. He white-knuckled the steering wheel, grinding his teeth in frustration, trying to focus on the road. He hoped Hank Summers had the sense to leave, because if he was still there when Giles walked in, he couldn’t promise not to deck the man. He arrived before the others, not surprising since he was driving close to 50 mph on the city streets. The lights had all been turned off, and the house was dark. It appeared Hank had more sense than Giles would have given him credit for. He fished for his keys as he strode up the steps, remembering a moment later that Hank wouldn’t have been able to lock up. He turned the door handle just as he felt something beneath his foot. He took a step forward and reached inside the doorway for the porch light. Placed on the porch directly in front of the doorway:
A folded piece of paper, now marked with the tread of Giles’ shoe. On top Buffy’s class ring, the one Dawn had taken to wearing on a chain around her neck. Next to it the silver cross Angel had given Buffy, the one she had been buried with. Giles pocketed them both and opened the note. Watcher- Midnight. The old school library. Alone. - M. He heard Xander’s car pull in behind his, but he was still standing in shock when they came up the steps. “Giles?” Willow approached him, and he merely handed her the note. She read it and always the optimist, replied, “At least we know where they’re doing the ritual now.” She passed the note back to Xander and Anya. “He has Dawn,” Giles said simply. Xander read the note, crumpled it in a ball, and threw it at a tree. “Does everything in this town have to happen over the Hellmouth? Why do we even bother with the research and patrol? We should just set up camp in the library.” “Hey guys,” Tara broke in. “Maybe we should go inside. It is after dark.” They filed inside, carrying in the weapons they had brought, Giles still sullen and quiet. He leaned against the archway, next to the stairs. “Okay, what I don’t get,” Anya said, “is why send Giles a note? I mean they have everything they need for the ritual: they have Buffy’s body and Dawn’s blood. We can’t stop them if we don’t know where they are. So why send Giles a note telling us where they are?” “He wants me to come to him,” Giles murmured. “He needs his matched set: Watcher and Slayer.” Giles padded up the stairs, leaving the rest in shocked silence. When he returned, Xander was waiting for him at the bottom. “You’re not actually thinking of going are you? By yourself? ’Cause I thought watchers were generally supposed to be smart.” “I don’t have a choice, Xander. He has Dawn.” It was then that the young man noticed what Giles was doing with his hands. “Oh. My. God. Where did you get that? You know, unless they started making wooden bullets, I don’t think that’s gonna do much for you.” Giles was loading a clip into a sleek 9mm semi-automatic pistol. He checked the safety and slipped it in his jacket pocket. “Xander’s right. You can’t go alone. It’s suicide.” Willow was standing in front of the door. As if she could stop him. Giles looked at each of them. “Marcus doesn’t care whether Dawn lives or dies. But I don’t think he’ll kill her. He only needs some of her blood. He wants me, badly enough to make a trade, I’ll wager. But if any of you come with me, he’ll just as likely kill her. I need you to stay behind. I need you each to do your jobs. The plan, remember? Willow, you and Tara prepare to do your spell here in the living room. Wait for my signal. Xander, you and Anya-” “Wait outside the school for you to get killed,” Xander finished in disgust. “Don’t you get it? He wants to turn you into a vampire!” “That’s why you have the most important job, Xander.” Giles reached over and picked up one of the crossbows they had stacked in the foyer. He handed it to his young friend. “When Buffy and I come out of that school, if we aren’t holding up crosses in our hands, you can’t hesitate. A bolt through each of us.” “Oh, man,” Xander whispered, as he turned the weapon over in his hands. “You gotta be kidding me.” “Anya,” Giles said, handing a crossbow to her as well. “You watch over the back of the school. The same thing goes for you.” She nodded as she took it. “Ok. Wanna live. I can do this. I can shoot you.” Giles smiled. Gallows humor. “You needn’t sound so pleased at the idea.” The smile faded. Serious again. “When Dawn comes out, you get her somewhere safe and make her stay there.” He didn’t mention the possibility of Dawn being turned. He couldn’t think about that. He just couldn’t. Dawn would be fine. She had to be. He looked Anya and then Xander straight in the eye. “Remember, both of you: If I walk out of there without a cross, I’ll know the plan. I’ll know where each one of you is, and I’ll be coming after you. You can’t hesitate, and you may only get one shot.” “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Anya asked. “Because I must say that you’re not good with the pep talks.” Giles gave them each a hug. Willow began to cry, and he kissed her tenderly on the forehead, as he never would have done back in high school, as he never would have done even five weeks ago. “Shhh... Don’t cry for me before I’m gone. Tomorrow this will all be over, and we’ll all go out to celebrate at the nicest, most expensive restaurant in town. My treat.” Willow nodded, but she didn’t look very convinced. They waved him off at the door, looking for all the world like they knew they’d never see him again. *** He parked in his usual spot. Over there was where Principal Snyder had parked. And over there Mr. Whitmore. Ms. Barton next to him. And right there was where Jenny had parked. Jenny. Maybe he would see her yet tonight. He wished it could take away the pain of knowing that, if he failed here tonight, Buffy would be gone, and he would never see her again. No, not even Jenny could fill that space. He double-checked his pockets. Two large, thin crosses in his inside jacket pocket. One for him and one for Buffy. His gun in his right jacket pocket, a bottle of holy water and the cell phone in the other. Stakes secreted away in every place he could fit them. He leaned across to the glove compartment, pulled out two more crosses, and then slipped them in his other inside jacket pocket. No sense getting shot by Xander simply because he had lost his cross. For good measure, he took a third and fit it in the pocket with the 9mm. He stepped out of his car, left the keys on the seat. Xander would take them when he came in a bit. If Giles was turned tonight, he didn’t want to leave his demon self any avenue of escape. That was one feature of his new car that was a blessing. Giles lacked the skills to hotwire the more sophisticated system of a BMW. He glanced over to the passenger side. He imagined that’s where she would be standing. “Well, Buffy, here I go. Wish me luck.” He walked towards the remains of Sunnydale High, his back straight, his demeanor calm and resolved. He wasn’t so vain that he couldn’t admit he was scared. More scared perhaps than when he was tied to that chair in the mansion. More scared than when they had pulled him, bleeding and in agony, from the RV. More scared than when Buffy had gone to the fight the Master. More scared, because this time it wasn’t just Buffy’s life he had placed on the line, but her immortal soul. He entered the burnt out ruins for the first time since his own hand had leveled the building. The residue of smoke and ash still hung in the air and burned the back of his throat. He picked his way through the familiar and yet changed hallways, the hair on the back of his head prickling with nerves and his right hand clenched tight around the 9mm in his pocket. He stopped just inside the cafeteria. The plastic tables and chairs had melted to form abstract sculptures in various shades of ash gray. He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and pressed three for Xander. “I’m in,” he whispered. “I haven’t encountered any other vampires. If we’re lucky, it may just be Marcus and Nicole. You and Anya should come to the school now. Do a sweep of the whole area. Don’t let anyone else get in the building.” He hung up and dialed Willow and Tara. He gave them a similar update, made sure they had everything ready for their own spell. “You’ll have to start on my signal exactly, not before, not after. We want to give Buffy as much time as possible to get back in her body, but if we do it too soon, you’ll force her into her dead body. When Marcus’ spell takes effect, she would just be lost.” He didn’t hang up this time, just slipped the phone in the breast pocket of his jacket, the mic facing out. He took the cross from beside the pistol, and switched it to his left hand. His right returned to cradle the gun. He continued on towards the library. She was standing where the doors used to be, her back to him. She turned when he approached, her preternatural hearing either vampire or slayer or greater than the sum of both. Long legs, clad in black leather pants, strolled slowly towards him. She crossed her arms, the hem of her royal blue half top hiking further up her midriff. She had a good half-foot on Buffy, though in Nicole’s face and the curves of her body, she was plainly a girl who had died at fifteen. Her long blond hair was braided, as it had been the night he had seen her in the cemetery. Giles was already planning how that waist length cord could be used against her in battle. Any watcher worth his salt would have asked her to cut it. Of course, if Nicole were anything like Buffy, she probably flatly refused. “Uncle,” she called with a grin. “Watcher’s early.” Giles thrust the cross out in front of him, and she hissed as her game face slipped on. He forced her backwards into the library, holding her two feet ahead of him with the simple wooden cross. His eyes searched for Dawn first and found her sitting near the space that had once been the stairs to the stacks. They had her bound, hand and foot, and gagged. Bloody bastards. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. Giles imagined this is what Buffy must have felt when she had reached Dawn at the top of the scaffolding. Those eyes filled with such trust, such blind faith in him, and the certain knowledge that he would make everything all right. Giles knew that he would do anything, give anything, that was needed to justify that faith. Buffy’s words to him echoed in his head. Then the last thing she’ll see is me protecting her. “Come here, Nicole.” The voice was deep, resonant. A strong British accent with the slight lilt of a man who had spent years in France. “The Watcher is no threat to us.” Giles looked for the voice and found Marcus sitting in lotus position next to the crack above the Hellmouth. The man had been 56 when he died, dark black hair graying at the temples, body thin and gaunt from six years of mourning Nicole. But his sharp green eyes were cold and ruthless. If anything, his grief had strengthened the iron in those eyes. He swam in the dark burgundy cloak he had chosen for this occasion, giving the appearance of a devil who could not fit in a monk’s robes. Marcus smiled at him, a smile of genuine affection that turned Giles’ blood cold. “Come here, my friend. Let us have a look at you. I’ve only seen you at a distance.” “We are not friends.” Giles didn’t move, didn’t lower the cross. “No. I would say we are almost brothers.” Marcus rose with the grace and nobility of 18th century British aristocracy. He walked away from Dawn, towards the melted remains of the book cage. It was then that Giles first saw her, or what he imagined to be her. Marcus had at least had enough respect to cover Buffy’s body with a sheet. Giles hoped he could save Dawn from the sight of her sister, dead and buried now for five weeks. Marcus looked down over the still form beneath the sheet, and Giles tried to use his distraction to get to Dawn. But Nicole was faster and within moments was sitting behind Dawn, had pulled the girl into her lap no less. Nicole brushed her fingers through Dawn’s hair, pulled it back from the girl’s neck. The slayer retained the visage of the vampire as she ran her open mouth up and down the girl’s neck, her demon yellow eyes never leaving Giles’ as she teased him with the girl’s life. Nicole’s fangs scratched against the skin slightly, drawing the smallest drop of blood. She lapped it up, smiling at Giles as she did. Dawn was crying, but her eyes never wavered from him, never faltered in her trust of him. Giles focused again on Marcus, who was still standing over Buffy’s dead body. The vampire sighed and then turned to study Buffy’s watcher for a moment. “I saw her once, you know, when she was still alive. Three or four years ago, I think. She was magnificent in battle. I’ve made a point of looking up each slayer when I can, when they last long enough. “Nearly two hundred years since my Nicole Called her replacement. And in that time there have been nearly a hundred slayers come and gone. Ninety-four to be exact. I think that averages out to about two years per slayer. Barely two years of fighting for a world that they will never live in. Two years is just an average. Some get more, like your Buffy. Some get less, like my Nicole. But all of them get far less than they deserve. “Ninety-four slayers I have seen come and go, but none compare to your Buffy. You did know how exceptional she was, didn’t you?” “She was the best,” Giles answered, still standing in the doorway, still bearing his cross like a shield. His gaze traveled back and forth between Marcus and Dawn. “Yes, of course you knew. You were her Watcher.” Marcus left Buffy’s side, strolled back to the Hellmouth, and then turned to face Giles again. “I have been waiting for her for nearly two hundred years. For a slayer who could match my Nicole, who would be worthy of her. I knew it, when I saw your slayer that day. I knew it would be her. And so I have waited. I have learned what I could about you and her. Her friends. Her family. I have waited for her death, knowing that even for the best of slayers, I would not be waiting long.” Giles looked at the other watcher with contempt. “Were you too afraid to face her when she was alive? Did you already know that she would best you? Did you already know that your precious Nicole, who couldn’t last six months as a slayer when she was alive, that she wouldn’t last six minutes against Buffy now?” He heard Dawn scream and the cocky arrogance drained out of him. Nicole’s hand had wrenched the girl’s neck sharply to the side. Dawn’s face scrunched up in pain and fear, as Nicole smiled and bared her fangs. “Watch your tongue, mortal. Or I might not watch mine.” She licked Dawn from collarbone to ear, and then released her hold on the girl’s head. Dawn dropped her chin to her chest as she sobbed. “Now, Nicole,” Marcus admonished. “Play nice. Dawn is very nearly your sister now.” He focused again on Giles, as if they were friendly neighbors who had needed to stop gossiping long enough to bring unruly children back in line. “Now where was I? Ah, yes. Your rather unfair accusations. I think the pair of us could have taken your slayer if we had wanted. We could have turned her into one of us that very first night we saw her. But I have never killed a slayer. And I never will. “Perhaps there is a bit of the watcher still left in me. I suspect, though, that it is more a reluctance to steal what precious little time these girls have or to cause another watcher the grief I lived with for so many years. No, I have never killed a slayer. Sometimes I have watched them die. Sometimes I have even saved them. “You must know about the ritual by now. The Watcher’s Council may be a bunch of heartless bastards, but they do train us well. I’m going to give you a gift, Rupert Giles. I’m going to give you back your Slayer. More than that, I’m going to give you both immortality, so you shall never be parted from her again.” Giles drew the 9mm semi-automatic pistol from his jacket pocket and released the safety. “Like hell you are.” He met Dawn’s eyes again, tried to convey to her in a look that everything would be okay. Her wide eyes watched him, still reflecting her absolute faith in him. Again Buffy’s words rang through his head. Then the last thing she’ll see is me protecting her. Marcus laughed, as if Giles had pulled a good prank on him. “If you know about the ritual, then you know I only need some of the girl’s blood. Doesn’t matter if she’s dead or alive when I take it. So go ahead and shoot her. Her death won’t interfere with my plans.” “No, but mine will.” Giles tipped the barrel up and placed it beneath his own chin. Dawn screamed, and it cut straight to Giles’ heart. He didn’t want her to see this, but there was no other way. They couldn’t make him a vampire if he were already dead. And if he pulled the trigger now, with the gun pressed beneath his chin, aimed back and up towards the base of his brain, if he pulled the trigger like this, he would be dead before he hit the floor. Marcus knew all of this. He paled, if that were possible for a vampire, and then he asked, “Why? When I am giving you the very thing you have prayed for all these weeks?” “Dawn walks out of here now. Or I pull the trigger.” Marcus narrowed his eyes. “You’re bluffing. You’re not going to kill yourself while the girl watches.” Giles’ hand didn’t even shake as it pressed the barrel closer against his neck, one finger poised over the trigger. No fear. No doubt. Just peace. Ripper had been quite the card shark in his youth, had earned his keep by it on occasion. Marcus would be able to read nothing in his expression. “You need me, Marcus. You can turn Buffy after I’m dead, but you’ll have no influence over her without me. And all of this will have been for nothing. You want my Slayer? Then you need me.” Marcus nodded, conceding to Giles’ logic. “All right. You win. But you’ll of course allow me to take some of her blood. Not just because you can’t stop me, but because you want me to finish this. You want me to perform the ritual. And after Dawn leaves, you’ll willingly allow yourself to be turned. Because when your Buffy wakes, she will need her Watcher. And your duty will call to you, even then.” Giles did not lower his gun; he simply waited as Marcus walked to Nicole and Dawn, as he lifted the terrified girl to her feet. He produced a chalice and a knife from inside the folds of his robe. He sliced her arm in three places, holding the cup beneath to catch the flow. Giles could see that the cuts hurt, but he knew they were not serious. Dawn would be fine. She would live and walk out of here. And Xander and Anya would see that she was safe. When the chalice was half-filled, Marcus set it aside. He removed the gag from her mouth and tied it around the wounds he had just inflicted. Then with the knife, he cut the bonds at her hands and her feet. He framed her face between his palms and bent her head, placing a kiss on her forehead, as if she were the daughter he had to let go. He turned back to Giles, pulling Dawn against his chest and placing the knife against her throat. “Now, Rupert, come the rest of the way into the library. Go over and stand beside your slayer’s body. I want to make sure you don’t try to slip out with the girl when she leaves.” Giles did as instructed, the barrel of the gun beginning to bruise where he pressed it beneath his chin. “Okay, Marcus. Let her go.” The vampire removed the knife and gave her a shove towards the door. Dawn hesitated, like a deer caught in headlights. She froze, her eyes focused on Giles as she mouthed the word “no” over and over again without voice. “Dawn, go on,” he said gently. “Xander and Anya will be waiting outside for you.” She didn’t move. She just shook her head, sobbing, her lips still forming the word “no” repeatedly. Giles realized that Dawn had reached her breaking point. Her mother. Buffy. Her father trying to take her to Spain. And now here he was, holding a gun to his own head as she watched. This was the second time someone had offered up their life for hers. It was too much for the girl, and she had snapped in front of his eyes. But he needed her to get moving now. “Dawn, I know it’s hard, but you’re going to be okay. You have to go now.” Her head shaking. No, no, no, no, no, no, nononononono... “Dawn, I’m dead whether you go or stay. Please go. Let this mean something. Be brave. Live for me.” Her mouth closed, and then her eyes. When they opened again, there was acceptance. Giles smiled for her, so like the final smile he had given Buffy as he lay dying in the gas station. “There’s my girl. Go on, Dawn. I love you.” She still had no voice. She simply mouthed the words. I love you. And then she turned and was running as fast as her legs could carry her, was running out of the library and out of Giles’ life forever. “Now then,” Marcus was saying, “The girl is safe, and you can put down the gun. We both know you’re not going to shoot yourself now. We both know you’re going to let me finish the ceremony and you’re going to let us make you into one of us.” “How can you be so sure of that?” “I know what it is to lose a slayer. The slayer is everything to her watcher, more than daughter, more than lover, more than mother or sister or friend. There is nothing else in your life that will ever match it. We have no choice. It’s in our blood. For a thousand years upon a thousand years, the Watcher’s Council bred us to it. Like cattle. Bred us to crave the slayer. To treasure her above all else. And then after she is gone, your life is hollow. There is no purpose, no meaning. It is as if she takes your very soul with her when she goes. “You want her back. Would do anything to get her back. And when you have her back, it is the sweetest thing in the world.” Nicole had stepped beside her watcher, and he pulled her against him, kissed her on forehead and then each cheek until finally they kissed on the lips as lovers. “You can put down the gun, Rupert, because I know your heart as well as my own.” Giles allowed the gun to fall, clicked the safety back on, and slipped it in his pocket. “I have a request.” Marcus smiled. “He asks me nicely, as if we were friends. Perhaps there is hope for us after all.” Giles glanced down at the still form beneath the sheet. “I want it to be Buffy. If I’m to be turned into a vampire, I want Buffy to be my Sire.” Marcus nodded without deliberation. “It is appropriate. There is a connection between Sire and Childe. It will only deepen the connection that exists between Watcher and Slayer. I will allow it.” Giles sat down in the rubble beside Buffy’s body. Not much time now. Marcus and Nicole joined him, sitting on either side, the three of them forming a strange circle around the body of the finest slayer of them all. “I have great plans for the four of us.” Giles only raised one eyebrow. “It will be different than Liverpool. It will work this time. Nicole and I were not enough. Mindless minions just can’t get the job done. But two slayers and two watchers... We will destroy the Watcher’s Council once and for all.” “Why?” Giles asked. “Do you even need to ask? Think what will happen when there are no more watchers. There will be no one hunting down potential slayers, stealing their childhoods, and training them to be killers. There will be no one to tell the one Slayer that she must go out night after night to fight and possibly die. There will still be slayers, but they will not know their power or their destiny. They will make their own choices and live their own lives. Long, full lives. They will die of old age, tucked in their beds and surrounded by children and grandchildren. Think of it, my friend. We will free the slayers. You and I and ours. Your Buffy will be the last slayer to die performing her duty. Think of that legacy.” Giles shook his head. “I think the real Marcus Somerton, the human Marcus Somerton, would disagree with you. As do I. “I don’t know who came up with the idea of slayers and watchers. It isn’t fair. I know it isn’t fair to ask these girls to die to save the rest of us. It isn’t fair, but it’s necessary. Without them, the world would have been lost long ago. As a watcher, I can’t prevent the inevitable. All I can do is hold it off as long as possible, to give her all my knowledge and training so she can do what she must do. I would give my life for hers, but there are times I don’t have that choice. There are times when the Slayer must stand alone between us and total annihilation. “And I think at those times, when given those choices, I think the Slayer is a willing sacrifice. God knows Buffy didn’t choose her destiny. Sometimes she wished to be just a normal girl, whose biggest concern was what to wear to the Bronze on a Friday night. And more than once, she has even turned her back on her duty. But she has always come back. In the end, she has always accepted her destiny, embraced it as part of who she is. I think if you gave her a choice today between being the Slayer and being a normal girl, she would choose to be the Slayer. Because to refuse those gifts would be to refuse the greater part of herself.” Marcus chuckled darkly. “I think after you are turned, you will see things our way.” “I have no doubt of that. But it doesn’t make what I’ve said any less true.” Marcus looked at his watch. Five minutes to midnight. Time to begin the ritual. “Nicole, fetch the blood.” Giles felt his heart begin to race, his palms to sweat, and his head to spin. Dear, sweet Buffy, let this work. And if it doesn’t, please forgive me for what I have done to you. He stood back, near Nicole, as Marcus performed the ceremony. Dawn’s blood, his magic, and Buffy’s body. Not too soon. Not too soon. Wait for it. The incantations, the chanting, the incense, the markings in blood. They lasted until just a few minutes past midnight. Marcus lifted his arms and called out the final words of the spell. At the same time, Giles bent low and whispered into the cell phone, “Now, Willow!” “Revertete tempum! Quid mortūus sum fīam vivus. Nunc! Nunc!” Marcus’ words rang out through the bombed out shell of the library. The Hellmouth below them thrummed with the magic of his spell. Reverse time! What was dead becomes living. Now! Now! Giles watched as Buffy’s form began to glow. Slowly, the weeks of death lifted from her appearance, her sunken cheeks becoming full, her dull pallor regaining its color, the blue of her lips turning to pink. And then he saw her chest rise with breath, her muscles twitch with life. The glow surrounding her flashed a brilliant blue and then was gone. Lying there before him was Buffy, alive and beautiful. She looked as if she were sleeping and nothing more. Giles had waited for this moment, prepared himself for it. His left hand had unscrewed the cap of the holy water while in his pocket. Now he pulled it out and moved to throw it on Marcus before he could come near Buffy. If he had prepared for this moment, then Nicole had expected it. She was fast, faster than a slayer, faster than a vampire. She was greater than the sum of both. She had his arm and was throwing him against the wall, the holy water spilling out of his hand and onto the ground. Some dripped on her arm, and she screamed as it burned her skin, but still she didn’t let go of him. The flask was empty. She still held him by one arm, and now the other took him by the throat, shoved him into the mangled book cage behind him. She held him there by hand and throat. Giles was helpless. He could only watch in misery as Marcus bent over Buffy’s living form. I’m sorry. Buffy, my love, I’m so sorry. I’ve failed you. I’ve cost you everything in this life and the next. Marcus transformed into his vampire mask, opened his mouth over her neck. And then Buffy’s eyes opened. Dear God above, her eyes were opening. “You know, you shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to you.” Her voice was the sweetest sound that he had ever heard. And bam- she had head butted the vampire leaning over her. Marcus stumbled back as Buffy flipped onto her feet. “Especially other people’s bodies.” Wham- she kicked him right in the chest. He landed flat on his back several feet from her. “People get really touchy about things like that.” Nicole had turned wide eyes towards the battle waging between her watcher and Buffy. Her grip on Giles had slackened. More importantly, her attention had drifted. He reached into an inside jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a cross, thankful that he had put them on each side of his jacket. He pressed it against her bare stomach, branding her with its mark. She screamed and released him, jumping back from the cross. Pure hate filled her eyes, and she moved towards Giles, determined to rip his heart out and feed it to him, and to hell with whatever momentary pain his cross caused her. But Buffy had seen Giles’ predicament, and before Nicole could take a step, she found herself whipped back by the length of her braid. Buffy wrapped it twice around her neck, pulling tight. “Anyone ever tell you it’s time for a haircut?” “Buffy!” Giles called, tossing her one very pointy stake. She caught it in one motion, and then tugged on the end of the braid. Nicole spun out like a top, and when she came to a stop, Buffy stabbed forward with the stake. The Vampire Slayer’s eyes went round before she crumbled to dust. “No!” Marcus bellowed, recovered now from the shock of a living, souled Buffy and the pounding she had so recently delivered. He sprinted across the ten feet that separated him from his slayer, as if by reaching her, he could hold her together. His hands touched only dust as they moved through the space she had occupied not half a second before. Buffy spun and easily delivered a second blow with her stake. Marcus didn’t seem to notice. His eyes never left the dust that filtered through his hands until he also disintegrated, joining his slayer, his dust mingling with hers. Buffy brushed herself off and looked up at Giles with a grin. “I think you were pretty generous when you gave her six minutes. I don’t think that could have been more than two.” Giles swallowed. He couldn’t speak. The reality of what had almost happened choked him. They had come this close to being turned, both of them. Worse than that, he had been moments from losing Buffy’s soul, from damning her to oblivion or to an eternal prison. He began to shake. His knees failed him. He collapsed onto the floor. Buffy leapt to his side, wrapping her arms around him. To his utter humiliation, he began to retch, his stomach purging its contents onto the ground in front of him. Buffy simply held him, rocked him as he doubled over again and again, her fingers softly stroking his hair. When he was finished, he closed his eyes and leaned back into her embrace, his face burning with shame. “Are you okay now?” He nodded wearily. “Good.” He looked up into her face, the tears glistening in his eyes. His golden angel, his beautiful slayer. She was warm and alive, and Marcus was right. Having her back was the sweetest thing in the world. She traced her fingers along his jaw and smiled brilliantly. “I would kiss you now, but... You know with the throwing up, maybe that can wait until we get home and you brush your teeth.” He laughed then, a full-bodied laugh that shook his sides. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, still laughing, until the laughter gave way to tears, and he was sobbing in her arms. He held her tighter, as he sobbed with the grief and misery he had tried to keep contained for five long weeks. Bloody hell. What’s wrong with you, Giles? You’re falling to pieces, and you’re jumping from one extreme to another without any control. But Giles realized that where Buffy was concerned, there could be no control, only surrender. When the flood had slowed to a trickle, he drew back from her, wiped his face on his sleeves. His eyes found the dust that had been Marcus and Nicole. Softly he whispered, “That could have been me.” She followed his line of sight, looked back to him. “What?” “Marcus. He could have been me. His grief after he lost his slayer. It destroyed him. It had barely been five weeks for me, and God help me, I wanted him to do the ritual. I wanted you back so badly; I didn’t care about the cost or the risks. Marcus had lost Nicole for six years. What would I have been after six years, Buffy? Would I have let some stray vamp take me, just to end it, to end the pain?” “Giles, look at me.” She took his face in her hands. “You could have never become Marcus. You’re nothing like him. Through this whole thing, you’ve done nothing but think of me. When the risks were too high, you told Willow no. When you thought there was a chance, you came into my bedroom, prayed to me, wanted only to know what was best for me. Marcus never thought of Nicole. Not once. He didn’t care what she would have wanted. He didn’t care that she would have never wanted to become a vampire. He only cared about his own grief and pain. “No, Giles, you could never become Marcus.” With gentle fingers, she cleared away his tears, smoothed his brow, and fixed his hair. “What do you say we go home now? There’s a lot of people who are going to be happy to see us.” He nodded. “Home sounds good.” They heard a chorus of cheers from his breast pocket, and Giles chuckled. He pulled out the cell phone and looked at it. He had completely forgotten they had an audience. “We’ll be home in a little while, Willow. See you and the others then.” He clicked it off, dialed three for Xander. “We’re coming out. Be ready.” Watcher and Slayer stood, and arm in arm they walked towards the exit. ****
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