Title: Declaration (No 2 in the Debriefing Series)
Author: Ruth
Pairing(s): B/G, also W/T, X/A, M/Amy references.
Eventual rating NC 17
Spoilers: Set after Season 5; everything up to and including The Gift
Disclaimer: all that exists in BtVSland is Joss', ME's and whoever's, no profit being made here, no copyright infringement intended, etc and so forth. My characters are mine, please excuse them.
Summary: following Debriefing, what happened after *that* phone call.
Feedback: Please. "It's like a drug!" rufusruff@hotmail.com
Note: all the magic and mystical stuff herein is totally *made up*. No Wiccan nitpicking please. I know nowt. All times are local times.
Big thanks to Rari my beta bud, and Gail for inspiration and encouragement.

London Headquarters, Watchers' Council, Tuesday August 28th, 9.55 a.m.

"Excuse me, Mr Giles? Could you come to the telephone in the Chairman's office? There's an urgent call for you from the United States. A Miss Summers."

Parker had scrambled to his feet, a silent "what!" on his lips. Giles spun on his heel, a mixture of shock and confusion in his face, before letting out an impatient breath and muttering to himself,

"Dawn, of course"

To the Council's nervous-looking young messenger he nodded reassuringly. "Thank you. I'll be along directly". The young man seemed about to say something, then apparently thought better of it. Speaking off the cuff to a legend usually resulted in one saying something foolish. His face vanished silently from the doorway, the heavy oak door swung 'to' with a muffled click. Giles turned to Parker apologetically.

"Do you want to continue this conversation later?"

The Council's psychiatrist shook his head. "I can make my report and silence those wagging tongues. As for the...journey you need to make, I'm not sure you need a companion. Be kind to yourself, Rupert."

The two men shook hands, smiling briefly, their expressions warm . "I never thought I'd say thank you to someone for playing with my head, but...thank you," said Giles quietly. "For not judging"

"Clause One of the shrinks' litany" replied Parker. "Judge not, lest ye be judged". He showed Giles out, then returned to his desk to compile his report.

The Chairman's panelled office doubled as a Boardroom for the inner circle council members. It could have belonged at first glance to any long-established City company. A large, oval, walnut table, surface polished to mirror perfection, surrounded by seven Hepplewhite chairs, dominated the room. In front of a spacious alcove at the far end, a pair of substantial folding doors stood open to reveal a modern workstation fitted with state-of-the-art telecommunications technology.

Giles's skin prickled as he entered the room. Strong magics had been employed here to protect and conceal; a surreptitious glance here and there to far corners revealed the presence of elaborately carved stone containers in which charmed incense burned day and night. Sir Donald Fraser Conroy, Chairman of the Council of Watchers, was a spry, hawk faced man of perhaps seventy. His ice blue eyes were searching, intelligent, and shrewd. His knighthood had been officially conferred for "services to the Royal household". Unofficial rumours mentioned something about demons, polo ponies, and the Heir to the Throne.

<<Like being called to the Headmaster's study>> thought Giles, thinking back to his schooldays. Towards the end of his adolescence, such a summons had become an almost weekly ritual. The energies and resentments that had simmered ever since he had learned that his Destiny would override all of his own cherished ambitions, had provoked barely contained conflicts with authority long before his eventual flight at twenty-one.

"Ah, Rupert, I believe you would prefer to take this call in private" Conroy rolled the huge leather executive char back from the workstation, gestured to Giles to sit, and retreated into a further interconnecting room where his secretary sat at a monitor, typing. He shut the door firmly, after saying over his shoulder, "Just press 6 for the incoming call"

Giles cast his eye quickly over the equipment, located a blinking light on a slim keypad, and did as instructed. The hands-free phone clicked once, then the trembling, gabbling voice of Buffy's younger sister burst into the room from the speakers.

"Giles, Giles are you there? It took ages to track you down. Dad only let me keep trying because I was freaking so much. It's two in the morning here and I still can't stop shaking. Please please help me!" by the end she was speaking through her sobs, gasping for breath. The sound jumped into the hushed air of the Chairman's office. It was disconcerting not to have the familiar feel of a handset to grasp, like an anchor to the other end of the conversation.

"Dawn, it's alright. It's Giles, I'm here. Whatever's the matter?"

"Something *so weird* is going on, is what. I've got this whole bunch of dreams and memories and they're *not mine*! You have to do something: Dad thinks I'm going crazy again and I'm not, I'm *not*!

"Crazy *again*?" Giles had heard worryingly little from or about Dawn in the six weeks or so since her errant father had finally returned from Europe to take up the reins of parental responsibility from Willow and Tara, who had taken Dawn in after her sister's death. Now he didn't at all like what he was hearing.

Dawn was sobbing again, incoherently. Whatever she may once have been, she was now a sensitive fifteen year old who had had to bear far more than any reasonable person could expect. Giles had already witnessed one catastrophic crisis, when she had first discovered she was not just an ordinary girl, but also a mystical creation with a powerful origin and fearful potential. He tried to speak to her calmly.

"Dawn, Dawn. I want you to listen carefully to the telephone number I'm about to give you. It's for my own home here in England. You can reach me there if you need to call again. Write it down and read it back to me." By the time she had repeated it a couple of times, "just to make absolutely sure", the raw panic in her voice had subsided somewhat and the Summers strength in adversity was once more to the fore.

"When we first got here, to LA, me and Dad, you know, not long after...after.."She couldn't say it, but recovered enough to continue, "it was so *bad*, Giles. I had to leave the house, most of our things, and I hardly knew Dad, and his girlfriend kept trying to comfort me, and I hated her for keeping him away when we needed him and...I...I ...cut myself again, not just once this time, a whole bunch of times. I know that B-buffy said to be strong, but I'm not, not like she was. Dad made me go see someone. What could I tell them - my sister was not really my sister, she was a superhero and she died to save me from being used to get a hell-god back to another dimension? Sure. One way trip to Crackpot Central." Her tone was *almost* back to exasperated teenager again.

"Oh Dawn, I'm so sorry." Sorry for her pain, and for being too occupied with his own grief that he had been grateful to Willow and Tara for taking the burden of her care from his shoulders, grateful still more when Hank Summers had finally appeared to whisk her off to LA. Sorry that a part of him which he hated, wanted to see Buffy instead of her whenever she walked into a room he was in.

Dawn had asked for none of this; to be blamed for her very existence and continuance would have been the cruellest of fates. "So were they able to help you? And what's this about dreams?"

" I stopped the cutting, pretended it was just "survivor guilt": y'know we had to make up that stuff about an accident for Dad and everyone."

"And the dreams? The memories that you say weren't yours? What did you mean?"

"Dad enrolled me at Hemery, you know Buffy's old High School. I stated freshman year there last week. The whole week before my first day, I had weird dreams of roaming the corridors, scared half to death, looking for stuff I didn't wanna find. Going in there, it was creepy. Familiar, but in a wrong way. I visited a few times while she was there, for shows and things, at least, my head says I did..." she faltered. It was bad enough when you knew that your memories were artificial but seemed real. When they started seeming like someone else's...

Giles silently cursed Hank Summers. He could imagine his misguided motives; the school was nearest their home, had a good reputation, would be a place Dawn knew. But she needed a fresh start and a chance to establish herself as a separate person. Buffy had left Hemery years ago, but Giles was willing to bet that the circumstances of her leaving meant that she had not been forgotten. A thought that was only confirmed by what Dawn said next.

"The Principal, he tried to be nice and welcoming, but I could tell he didn't trust me. Then I had a memory of the same room, but a different person, a woman, different posters on the board, a desk calendar that said 1996, not 2001."

Giles' did the calculation and was brought up short. That had been the year *Buffy* had started freshman year at Hemery.

"Was that all?" he asked, fearing there must be more.

"I wish it was, Giles. I...made a new friend the first week, Sadie Schulz. She was nice; just come from Santa Monica and didn't know anyone either. Tonight, I mean, yesterday night, I was getting a lift back with Dad from her house,'cause it's quite a way, and we went past the school. Giles, the *gym was burning*."

"A fire?"

"That's what I said to Dad, but then he said he couldn't see anything, it was all okay, and what was I talking about. He looked at me so strange, like he was frightened. Then I was scared too. That's what happened right before *Buffy* got kicked out. They said she had something to do with it. I guess she did, but not in the way they thought."

"No, she was trying to contain a vampire attack on a school dance".

"Figures. We didn't know anything about all that then. Dad still doesn't. That's what makes it so hard to talk to him about anything. It just keeps coming up. It's why I had to call you. You always know what's going on, spooky things, anyway. Buffy always said you were Knowledge Guy". Giles allowed himself a small, sad smile. <<'Knowledge Guy'. Rightho.>> "Dawn, I'm flattered that you think I can help, but I'm thousands of miles away. Did you speak to anyone in Sunnydale?"

"Willow and Tara went to visit Tara's folks at the end of last week. They told me it was real important to see them right now. Xander and Anya took a road trip. He was so choked up that you gave him your convertible, and Anya kept going on about the big comfortable seats and how springy they were..."

"Yes, thank you, I get the picture", said Giles hurriedly. <<His car now, he can pick up the cleaning bill>>.

"What's happening to me, Giles? *Am* I going crazy?" The tremble was back in her voice.

"No, no, I don't think so. Look, it's too soon to tell what all this is about. You try to get some sleep, now. I'm travelling down from London shortly; I'll be at the number I gave you for at least a week after that. Feel free to ring me *anytime*. And do try to speak to Willow when she and Tara return. All my occult books are scanned onto her computer. If there are answers in there she will be able to find them

"I miss you, Giles". It was a little girl's plea, but it touched him. Suddenly he wanted to see them all again, and the lost, beautiful face most of all. The wound in his heart was all at once agony again, but he spoke gently, to spare her.

"And I, you. All of you. Sleep tight". Another click told him that the connection had been broken. He sat contemplating for a few moments; chin on clasped hands, then pushed the chair back and moved to the Chairman's secretary's office door.

Opening it, he was gratified to see that the room's occupants were busy with arranging meetings and deploying personnel. Not that he seriously suspected Conroy of a tendency to eavesdrop. Usually.

"Sir Donald, thank you. I apologise for taking so long. The situation in America was somewhat...complex, and to some extent remains so. Is there anything else I need to do here, anyone I need to see?" His tone was polite, but he made no show of hiding his haste to be gone. He might be back on the payroll, officially 'one of us' as Travers would say, but he had no taste for the corridors of power.

"Not at the moment, Rupert, thank you. You will be informed as soon as we have determined your...reassignment. Until then, no need to worry"

<<In other words," Don't call us, we'll call you">> thought Giles irreverently, but he kept his face straight.

" I hope you found your session with Dr. Parker... illuminating?" the question was delicately phrased, and Giles wondered just who on the Council suspected him of unethical conduct towards Buffy.

"Thank you, yes. I'm sure it will help clear up some... misunderstandings". He wasn't going to even *hint* at the personal element of his and Parker's conversation. If they *had* been listening in, they could draw what conclusions they wished about him personally. He didn't care.

Leaving the gated courtyard, down an alleyway into the main London thoroughfare, Giles caught the Tube to Victoria Station, endured the inevitable delay on his service and the grimy, bumpy (but at least not sweaty and crowded like the rush hour trip into Town) second class carriage train journey to the Sussex country railway station where he alighted. A short taxi ride and longish walk later, he was fumbling with the keys to the front door of his rented cottage in a sleepy village in the lee of the South Downs.

<<Public services still stink, even when they're privatised, but at least an Englishman's home is still ...God, I'm thinking in clichés now! >> He chastised himself. Now was *not* the time to become mentally lazy. He had fallen too quickly into that trap the summer after the High School had been destroyed, when he had been at a loose end personally, with Buffy at her father's in LA, and professionally, with his connection with, and reporting obligations to, the Council, severed.

He didn't know how long he was going to spend here, but it was good discipline to get away from living out of boxes as soon as possible. Besides, activity was almost as good as alcohol for helping one keep one's mind off unbearable thoughts. So he set about unpacking the few possessions he had brought over in suitcases, and some personal effects kept in storage in England for the last five years and had arranged to be delivered here for his return. The landlord had kindly put the wooden crates in the garden shed, and they needed emptying and returning to the removal firm as soon as possible. Most of his books were en route to England by sea, save a few that needed magical protection on their journey. The Council were still negotiating a fee with certain Elementals for that favour. Unlike Spike, dollars would not completely cut it with them, and like Anya, they seemed to have absorbed the hard-bargaining spirit of capitalist America from their adopted homeland.

He was busy filling shelves in the tiny kitchen, what would have been a scullery before modernisation, enjoying a sarcasm moment at the expense of Delia Smith.

<<'One is Fun'. She should have called it 'Cookery for People who have No one to Share a Meal with and Who would Otherwise Subsist on Beans on Toast'>>. Must be the dormant librarian in him, still preferring clarity of content over the sales pitch.<<Bet *that* would sell a million>>

There was a tentative knock on the front door. When he opened it, he was faced with a silver-haired lady with a sweet smile, wicker shopping bag over one arm, the other clutching her hat to her head in the tail of a brisk breeze.

"Good afternoon - I think it is, just - I'm your neighbour, Penelope Marlowe's my name, just popped round to say hello, we were away for the Bank Holiday, heard in the shop that you'd moved in, such a nice day after yesterday, isn't it?" she paused for breath and beamed again.

"Yes, yes, lovely weather <<oh the cliché again>>um, yes, sorry, pleased to meet you; Rupert Giles" he offered, extending his hand which was grasped shyly, accompanied by another smile.

"Welcome to Allcombe, Mr. Giles. I was wondering, perhaps you'd like to join us for tea, myself and my husband, Tom, that's him. You and your...wife, perhaps?" she was craning her neck slightly round him, trying to peer into the interior of the cottage to see if anyone else was inside.

"I'm, er, not married, Mrs Marlowe. But thank you, tea sounds lovely. About five?" Giles waited patiently for her to rein in her curiosity and was rewarded when she smiled a final time and sailed back down the front path. "See you at five, Laurel Cottage,,just across the road"

Giles shut the door and took a deep breath. He'd forgotten the friendliness but also the nosiness of English small villages, despite having grown up in one not so far from here. He glanced at his watch to see how long until five, when his stomach growled abruptly. <<Better make lunch. Now, what did I manage to glean from the village shop on the way here? Ah. Beans on toast, then >>

Patchwork Cottage, Allcombe, East Sussex, Saturday September 1st 2001 - the Feast Day of St Giles. 7 a.m.

The faint but insistent ringing of the telephone pulled Giles from belated sleep. He had sat up until two reading a complex but uninvolving novel in an effort to stop brooding again. He had had no word from the Council, nor indeed from anyone except Mrs.Marlowe, who seemed determined to adopt him as a surrogate son. Her own son apparently lived in Australia, and Giles was beginning to see the attraction of the outback.

Stumbling down the precipitously steep stairs in his dressing gown, he groped short-sightedly for the phone, dislodging the plant pot next to it on the windowsill, sending damp soil and crushed leaves cascading onto the carpet. Both plant and carpet, of course, belonged to his landlord. "Bugger".

"*Giles*! " the faintly shocked voice belonged, if he was not mistaken, to a certain red-haired witch and now upperclassman at UC Sunnydale.

"I'm sorry, Willow, good morning, or evening, to you." He was unable to stop an obvious yawn from being heard over the transatlantic line.

"Gosh, Giles I'm sorry did I wake you? I did get the time difference right, right?"

"No, it's quite alright. Late night, that's all"

"Giles, you're not drinking again, are you?" Willow sounded concerned.

"No I am *not*. If I had been, I'd probably have broken my neck falling downstairs just now"

"You had to come down to the phone? Don't they have extensions in England?"

"Yes, we even have hot water that comes out of a tap when you turn it on. I just don't have one here. I didn't in Sunnydale either actually. Now, before we go off completely at a tangent, to what do I owe the pleasure of this wake up call?"

"G-i-les" singsonged Willow, "Cran-ky"

"Yes. You however seem full of the joys. How are things with you? Tara keeping well?"

"She's fine. In fact she's part of the reason I'm calling. We went to visit her family, to get to know them better, you know, give them a chance after..last year and all the demon business? We saw her Dad and brother again, cousin Beth, her mom Louise, Beth's brothers and their wives..." "Erm?" prompted Giles before she could list all the members of Tara's no doubt large extended family.

"Oh, sorry. Anyway they've come to accept that being in Sunnydale is what she wants to do, and that she's with me and that's why they're so happy for us and support us"

Giles was still none the wiser. "I'm certain I'd be happy for you too, Willow, if I knew what you were talking about."

"Oops. Sorry again. Giles, we've decide to have a hand fasting ceremony, to sort of ...well...get married"

"Oh. I ...see"

"Aren't you pleased? I thought you'd be pleased for us" Willow seemed hurt by his lack of instant enthusiasm. "Anya actually hugged me. Then she spoiled it a bit by saying we must be copying their good idea and it meant Xander would finally be safe from me. I don't think she's quite *got* the lesbian bit yet."

"I am pleased, it's very happy news, congratulations, but isn't it a bit...sudden?"

"Giles, we've known each other nearly two years. We've given it a lot of serious thought, really been grownup about it."

"Then of course, I hope you'll enjoy many years together."

" Thank you, it means a lot to both of us that you support us too. It's not the only reason I called, but we would like you to come if you can. We're planning to have the ceremony next month, on September 29th."

"It's very kind of you to invite me, but I don't even know where I'll be by then. I could be reassigned in this country, or anywhere the Watchers' Council want me."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot, you're company man still. You could tell them it's in the cause of love and justice; well love, anyway. The Hellmouth shouldn't be allowed to get in the way of people being happy. We were all so miserable after...you know"- it seemed Willow couldn't say it either- "and we'll always...miss her so much..." her voice began to falter.

"I'll see what I can do" Giles wanted to do something to repay Buffy's best friend for her quiet support in those awful weeks, for the way she let him grieve in his own way, and hid the Scotch bottle with such ingenuity. Sometimes he nearly hadn't found it by the end of the day.

"We really hope you can because, well, we kinda hoped you'd be the Seventh in the Circle for us."

Giles was stunned into silence. It was a great honour to be asked to perform this duty. The Circle to witness a hand fasting was comprised of three hand fasted or promised couples, and one other unattached. That person, male or female, had to be someone highly respected and important in the lives of the two being joined. However, traditionally, the role of Seventh was given to one who was virgin.

"Um, Willow, you do know that technically I'm not...qualified?" he really hoped that the pair had done their research and that he did not have to spell it out.

"Hey, Giles, you didn't get secretly engaged without telling anyone did you? Oh, wait...I get it. Oh. Yes, I did know that. Right" He could almost hear her blush." We checked and that's just the tradition. For the magic to work, it's just about public declarations to spend the rest of one's life with someone and you haven't made one of those. You haven't, have you?"

"No" replied Giles quietly "Never".<< Probably never will, either>>.

"Y'know it's funny that. I mean, you're such a great guy, and you sing so sexily, and you're pretty good looking for someone your.. I mean you're buff when you wear the right clothes, um, I can say that right, because, gay now, and you know I'm not trying to hit on you...um..."

"It's quite all right, Willow, and thank you for the compliments" Giles rescued her in mid faux pas. "If we always got what other people think we should have, this world would be a very different place."

The conversation lagged for a moment, then Giles remembered something else. "Did you get my electronic mail message?"

"Oh, sure, I checked my mail as soon as I got back. But I wanted to talk to you in person"

"Hear, hear."

"Technophobe. Actually I was impressed that you knew how to do that, send email I mean. Are you online there? You have a hotmail address, I wasn't sure."

"God forbid. No, I used the public Library. A very helpful and computer literate Librarian set up the account for me. Have you heard from Dawn at all?"

"Yes, that's the other reason I wanted to talk. She mailed me, said she called you earlier in the week. I haven't had the chance yet to look at mystical reasons why she's having these experiences. But her Dad thinks, and maybe he's right, that it's just that she heard Buffy talk about things and is trying to make them her memories so she doesn't lose her altogether."

To some extent Giles was inclined to agree. However he had, at times in the past, been too quick to assign natural causes to supernatural goings-on, and it made sense to keep a close eye on Dawn.

"Look out for her, will you? And make sure she knows she can call on me, on any of us, if she needs to"

"Of course I will. Gotta go now, Tara did most of the driving and she really wants to go to bed. I mean, to sleep. We *really* hope you can come to the hand fasting. G'night Giles, I mean have a nice day. Miss you."

Giles replaced the handset in its cradle, took the fallen plant out to the kitchen bin, and went to find a dustpan and brush. As he methodically swept up the mess, he thought about Willow's request. He really wanted to be able to do this for the two Wiccans, although it might not be practicable if he were in the middle of an important assignment, or posted abroad. The more personal cost, of which he was aware but the girls...young women...were perhaps not, was easily worth it. The Circle of Seven would focus and amplify the personal commitment and sexual energy of the couples present and channel it through all those assembled. For the couples it would seal their bonds even stronger. For a Seventh who was virgin it would promote their quest for a partner for life. Giles suspected that in his case it would just leave him feeling extremely lonely and frustrated.<<Be needing the usual remedy, I suppose. Not as if I'm short of practice>> he thought sourly. Willow and Tara meant to honour him, he knew; he had no right to feel resentful. It wasn't *their* fault nobody wanted him, that each of the two women he'd truly loved was forever lost to him. He went to make a pot of tea

947, Lincoln Drive, Los Angeles, California, Tuesday September 12th,
2001,midnight.

"Hank, honey, I'm worried about her and I just can't seem to get through. Every time I try to get her to talk about Buffy, or her Mom, she just walks away. I know we should give her time, but it's only going to fester. You sure she won't go back to see Dr.Glasmann?"

Hank Summers patted the knee of his pretty young secretary-turned-girlfriend. The gesture was performed absently, as he stared, troubled, towards the stairs to the room where his surviving daughter lay sleeping.

"I don't know. Dr. Glasmann did say that she thought Dawn was doing remarkably, well, considering, and that to press her too far about these "memories" could set her back. We'd all like Buffy to stay with us; hell, I wish *I'd* made more memories with her." He put his head in his hands." I wish I'd been a better father to them both. Joyce and me, we couldn't have lasted, but... you don't divorce your children. But I did, in a way. I wish so much that I could turn the clock back."

His reverie was shattered by a scream from upstairs "BUFFY!! HELP ME!!"

Hank and Laura raced up to Dawn's room. She was sitting up in bed, neither fully awake nor asleep, her glazed eyes like saucers, her mouth open in a now silent cry. Hank rushed to kneel by her bedside, but hesitated to try and wake her properly. It might be dangerous, he knew. Dawn suddenly started awake and grabbed at his arm. She looked terrified, and the words poured out of her mouth so fast she had barely the chance to breathe. "I was drowning, but she saved me, she was here, with me, she said to tell Giles, in Sunnydale, I'm right here, you need to call me so I can come back to you"

"Giles? Honey, Mr. Giles went back to England, you know that. And Buffy...Dawn sweetheart, you know she can't come back, not ever again" Hank was struggling to overcome his own distress so that he could help his daughter; but he didn't know how much more of this he could take. In vain he tried to soothe the trembling girl, an arm round her shoulders as he clasped Laura's hand for support, and Dawn murmured repeatedly, "Giles, you have to call Buffy, she'll come to you, she'll come, you have to call her"

Patchwork Cottage, Allcombe, East Sussex, Wednesday September 13th, 2001, 8
a.m.

"Giles, you have to call Buffy, she'll come to you, she'll come, you have to call her"

He lurched to consciousness, seeming to hear the child's voice in the same room.

"Dawn? Buffy?"

<<Must be a bad dream, damn it, or wishful thinking. If only I *could* call her back to me, tell her how much she was loved, how much I wish I could have screwed up the courage...god, Giles you're a fool, can't you just see it? A middle aged man and a twenty year old vision without peer..." I've supported and guided you for five years and watched you grow; I admire deeply all that you've become. You 're the centre of my existence, I love you in every way I know how to, and can I take you in my arms, into my bed?" The sublime to the bloody ridiculous >>

He struggled miserably through his morning routine, putting off as long as possible the moment when he would have to face the fact that *again* he had very little to do all day. He had still had no call from the Council, and enough pride that he was not going to beg them to notice him. He was worried about Dawn, but could only hope that Willow and Tara were supporting her.

Shortly before nine, the phone rang. A familiar gruff voice was on the other end.

"Ah, Rupert, glad to have caught you."

"Quentin. I've hardly been out of this house for a fortnight" said Giles with asperity.

"Quite so. The Council asked me to act as your liaison again in view of what we must ask you. We want you to return to Sunnydale."

"You want *what*?"

"You heard me. You're to leave as soon as it's prudent. The council are very concerned that no new Slayer has been called to replace Miss Summers. They are unable to ascertain with certainty why not, but there is a theory in some quarters that it has something to do with your ill-advised stunt in Breakers Woods last month"

"That was a *private* matter, Quentin, if you understand the meaning of such a thing. There was nothing for anyone but me to be concerned about. I thought that had been cleared up"

"Certainly we have received advice that put...some of our minds at rest on an important issue. But what is past is past. We must consider the future, and without an active Slayer, that could be a short one"

"What about Faith?"

"We have been forced to remove her from our protection and supervision both practically and mystically. She remains at the pleasure of the State of California, I believe. We have no Slayer, Rupert, and if that is the result of any action of yours, I put it to you that it is your responsibility to remedy it."

" I don't believe this! You're sending me back across the Atlantic on the offchance, to find out whatever I may or may not have done and then undo it...or not. Does anyone at the Council have any idea what they're talking about?"

"You seem to have found a powerful advocate in our Dr. Parker, for one. He was all for encouraging you to take part in the Wiccan handfasting you've been invited to. You need to be in Sunnydale for that at least."

"Have you been tapping my private phone? "Giles wasn't sure whether it would be naive to be outraged; yet he was.

"No, we haven't yet found that necessary. A conversation in a public place in Sunnydale could be overheard by any casual passer-by. Miss Rosenberg and her...partner seemed very keen to have you. It would be a pity to disappoint them, don't you agree?"

"I want to talk to Dr. Parker" He couldn't believe that the psychiatrist had actually broken a confidence, but the Council had numerous and subtle ways of worming information out of people almost without them realising it.

"No, I'm afraid he is on a study leave at present. I can pass on a message, should you feel a need to...unburden yourself any further". Travers managed to inject an insinuation of 'lack of moral fibre' into the suggestion.

"I want to talk to him before I go" insisted Giles.

"I can ask him to contact you, but we must insist that you make preparations to depart in the meantime. You have a period of grace; we need to be discreet in this. For some reason the forces of evil do not yet appear to have registered the absence of the Slayer; we have not faced the expected offensive. Your return to Sunnydale must appear in the guise of your obligation to the young ladies. I believe you have two weeks?" The connection cut abruptly.

<<And good day to you too, Quentin. >>

Giles' mind was racing as he tried to think what could be the meaning of all this. He had assumed a new Slayer had been activated by Buffy's death; one could appear anywhere in the world, and there was no reason why he would have been told. The words of Dawn in his dream came back to him with a rush of insane hope: "call to Buffy, she'll come to you." But it was just impossible, she was four months dead.

He could not refuse to return to Sunnydale if the Council so ordered, and remain a Watcher, and if there was any possibility that his actions *had* somehow disturbed the 'succession', it *was* his moral duty, too. Why was Parker in particular insistent that the answer was for Giles to return to the place where he had served?

First things first. Contact Willow to let her know he would be there to act as Seventh; book a flight. He lifted his favourite suede jacket off the coat stand, checked for his house keys, then started out of the door to get a bus to the nearest town for the Library and the travel agent. On the threshold he paused, remembering. Preparations for the handfasting, of course... Finding a spare cardboard box under the sink, he packed away his tea, the small amount of coffee he kept for visitors, and both the opened and unopened bottles of Scotch from the sideboard. He was not quite sure how he was going to explain to Mrs.Marlowe *why* she needed to look after them for him for the next few weeks. He had already spent several teatimes carefully editing exactly what he had been doing in America for the past five years.

<<Right. No drugs or bodily poisons for the fortnight before the journey from my home to the Circle, so that probably includes the flight as well. Better start now to be on the safe side. And *complete* sexual abstinence; no do-it-yourself, Rupert. I'm going to be jumping out of my skin by the time I get there. That should make the ceremony end with a bang - no, *poor* choice of word. >>

He hefted the box into the crook of one arm, and manoeuvred the front door open and then shut with the other hand.

Main Street, Sunnydale, California, Friday September 28th 2001, 10 a.m.

Anya had certainly made her mark on the Magic Box since she had taken over, Giles thought as he looked at the sandwich board on the sidewalk outside the front entrance.

"WELCOME CUSTOMERS! BRING YOUR MONEY HERE FOR MAGICAL BARGAINS" At the bottom was written in minuscule script, 'Absolutely no refunds under any circumstances. Please arrange your own insurance'

Walking along Main Street in Sunnydale again had been a surreal experience. It had been scarcely six weeks since he had left, but already it seemed like a past life. A life more filled with life than he had ever had in England. Curious how he had hated the place when he had first arrived, the relentless sunshine, the burdensomely bright optimism of everyone from street sweepers to Principal Flutie <<and look what happened to him>>, the apparently aggressive resistance to anything he recognised as culture or education.

If he had made a home here at all, it had been a home with Buffy at its centre. Spike's gibe about "the lady of the house", which Giles had dismissed at the time as ridiculous, had had some validity after all. When they had worked together in true partnership, he had belonged in Sunnydale. Only when it seemed to him that she no longer needed nor wanted him around, had returning to the land of his birth seemed an attractive proposition.

He pushed the door open and winced. In the place of the traditional brass shop bell, Anya had had installed an electronic cell that played the first few bars of "It's a Kind of Magic" by Queen.

<< At least it's real music>>

Presumably out of loyalty to Xander, she had at least left the custom crafted wooden display racks intact. Except that some of them were now pink. "Thank you for your custom! Come back soon, but not for refunds! Oh, it's you. Don't worry everyone, still under new and improved management! "

"Anya, good to see you as well. How's business?"

Anya looked disgruntled. "I expect it to improve rapidly after tomorrow. Likewise my *life*. Going without sex makes me irritable and soon some of the customers might notice. I could tell them why but Xander won't let me. I expect he thinks they'll think he's impotent."

Giles covered his mouth with his hand and coughed in an effort not to chuckle too openly.

"Have you seen Willow and Tara recently?"

"They came in yesterday for some charms to sew into their dresses." She pouted. "Amy made me give them a discount"

"Amy? Not rodent Amy?" the last thing Giles had known of the erstwhile sorceress, she had still been enjoying an exclusive diet of cheese, and plying her treadwheel.

"Of course, not rodent Amy" replied Anya impatiently. "My *employee* Amy. I had to give her a job after Michael turned her back into a person. She has no High School diploma and he would have to support her otherwise."

"Hang on, go back a few paragraphs. This *is* the Amy who used to be a rat, yes?"

Anya rolled her eyes "You must still be jet-lagged, your brain's not working, Giles. Michael had been searching all this time to find a way to get her back because he was in love with her. I think it's *so* romantic." She sighed happily. "It would have been so difficult to have a relationship while she was a rat, because of the...".

"I think I'm quite up to speed now, thank you, Anya" interrupted Giles quickly before she could go *anywhere* with that line of thought. The tinny electronic music heralded another customer, in fact two, as Amy and Michael, arms intertwined, strolled happily in.

"...so I told her, I could still have eaten brownies when I was a rat you know. Mr. Giles! It's so nice to see you again! I'm so sorry about Buffy", Amy added sympathetically.

"Thank you, Amy. May I say what a pleasure it is to see you looking so...human?"

Amy grinned and bounced on her toes.

"All thanks to Mikey here" she smiled warmly and hugged Michael closer. "I hear you are going to be guest of honour in our Circle tomorrow. You all set?"

"I wondered who the third couple were to be. Are congratulations in order then?"

"Yeah" put in Michael. "As soon as I saw her face again, I knew. Like a lightning strike, y' know?"

Giles smiled politely. "Indeed".

Back Room, The Magic Box, Sunnydale, California, Friday September 28th,
10p.m.

"Hey, Giles, break open another can of that soda pop will ya?" Xander Harris sprawled against the wall surrounded by the debris of a pile of snack foods of gargantuan proportion.

"Are you sure some of the ingredients of those things don't count as bodily poisons?" queried the elder of his two companions. The men of the Circle and the women were holding separate vigils, as custom demanded. They were to tell the stories of their journey to the Circle thus far.

"Nope, I checked with Willow and most of my foodie favourites were okay. Only had to give up coffee ice cream - and I don't know if there's actual coffee in that. But I wanted to do it right for Willow's big day, ya know. She deserves to have something turn out just perfect."

Giles nodded." I know what you mean," he agreed. Although he was slightly reluctant to begin the night's proceedings, as uncomfortable as he was with personal revelations, both Willow and Tara should be properly inducted into their new life.

He turned to the dark haired warlock. "Michael, perhaps you'd like to begin".

Michael cocked his head shyly.

"I first noticed Amy right at the beginning of High School" he started." She was very pretty, of course, but she was so taken up with the whole cheerleading thing that she never had time to date. Then after that whole thing with her mom, we got closer, shared magic, she became her own person, not just what her mom wanted. We introduced Willow to the secret arts; you know you can tell when someone has the gift: Amy's is real strong, same with Willow, and you, Mr. Giles, though I know you don't like to do much stuff any more. When we had all that trouble with the demon pretending to be those two little kids, Amy was scared, but she was strong too. I really admired her; I was going to ask her to date when it was all over. When Willow told me what had happened I swore I'd find a way to bring her back. I've been to some pretty strange places, magic-wise, over the past couple of years, and finally I found it. As soon as I saw her face again, I knew this was it. Tara and Willow supported me all through in lots of ways, and I know they're happy for us. So that's how I come to the Circle".

Xander drained the last of his can, crumpled it in one work-roughened hand and tossed it in the general direction of the rest of the trash. He cleared his throat noisily.

"Okay, unaccustomed as I am ...seriously, I'm so honoured to be able to do this for Willow and Tara. So I was a little freaked when I found out my best friend's girl friend was her *girlfriend* - hey, I got over it. You can see Tara makes her happy and that's what cuts it with me. Same with me and Anya. I know a lot of my friends don't understand what I see in her - don't look surprised, Giles, I can tell when you're pretending - but she's the one for me. She's not perfect but neither am I, and if what we have together isn't perfect either, well, building and improvement, that 's my job. Our job, together. That's it. Oh, yeah, what is it I have to say now.... that's how I come to the Circle."

The two younger men turned expectantly towards Giles. He took a deep breath and gathered himself. At least within the terms of the ritual, no-one outside this room would hear what he was about to say.

" I come as Seventh to the Circle because I am without a life partner. It's not something I'm content with, not what I chose, just the way things have transpired. When I was your age I would not have dreamt I would still be on my own when I got to middle age. I never had any trouble then, finding female companions, and I suppose I expected there would be come that special one with whom I'd settle down. But it wasn't to be. I'm so glad for Willow and Tara, and for both of you with your partners. Cherish each other; love and forgive. Don't be afraid to give and receive love. I was," He paused;"... and so I come alone as Seventh to the Circle."

"Telling these young lads the sad and sordid story of your love un-life, are you, Rupes? A cautionary tale, that's what it is, boys. Go and don't make the stupid mistake of doing thou likewise? You tell 'em"

"What are you doing here Spike?" said Giles tiredly without even looking the vampire's way. "I thought you'd left town for good, back in May"

"And I heard *you* were back in good old Blighty. What's the weather like over there?"

"English. You're not welcome here, Spike. You never were"

"You don't run the place anymore, Watcher. 'Sides, we were just passing through, saw the lights were on in here, so I came for a little look-see"

"We?"

"Me and Dru. Together forever, that's us mate. We both came to our senses at last. I can't come to Red and her girl's Circle, being dead an' all, and what with the sunlight problem, but I'm all fixed again. Unlike some people" he finished, looking pointedly at Giles. "Seems to me *some people* don't have the guts to get what they really want before it's too late. Last time you tried to throw me out of here, to protect *her*, I could see it in your eyes, what you felt for her." Spike raised his eyebrows suggestively, smirked and sauntered out as quietly as he had come.

Michael looked confused, Xander shocked, as they turned questioning faces to Giles, who had flushed from hairline to collar under Spike's scrutiny.

"Is what he said true?" Xander finally managed. "About Buffy?" Giles slumped miserably where he sat.

"For all the good it will do now, yes. He was right. I was in love with her by then" He looked at Xander bleakly. "But she's dead, and I'm still going alone to the Circle tomorrow. We'd better turn in, early start in the morning." Without another word or backward glance he retrieved his sleeping bag from his pack, stripped to t-shirt and boxers and crawled into the bag to sleep. Michael and Xander, after a brief exchange of looks, followed suit.

Breakers Woods, Sunnydale, Saturday September 29th, 2001, 5a.m.

The topmost branches of tall trees swayed gently in a morning breeze as the Circle of Seven formed in the clearing, a centre of powerful positive energy.

Each member was dressed in the simplest of clothing, barefoot, the women in shift dresses, the men in loose drawstring pants and shirts, made only from natural materials.

As Seventh, Giles had the most to do in summoning and harnessing the magical energy, and as he carefully folded his long frame into a cross legged posture on the grass, palms flat to the ground, he focussed his thoughts inward on the task. The painful memories of the last time he had been here fell away.

The couples sat side by side, each holding their partner's hand, but awaiting the signal from the Seventh to complete the Circle by linking with him and the other couples.

He began to sing the chant in his clear, warm tenor voice, gradually filling the air with the sound and feeling the earth magic rise to meet him. His whole body began to tremble and he could sense those of the others doing the same. Taking the band of woven flowers, magical herbs and grasses that he had carried to that place, he beckoned Willow and Tara, who had taken their seats opposite him, to move forward. As they knelt before him he bound their joined hands at the wrists and blessed them in song. Once they had returned to their places, he was silent a moment and then said quietly "It is Time". At the nod of his head, all the members of the Circle linked with the neighbour on their free side. A wave of emotional power so intense that they all cried out, was followed by a flash of sexual energy like grounded electricity, leaving them gasping and wide-eyed. The love of the couples was so true and deep that it was reflected as if in a prism mirror, doubling and redoubling time and again. A swirling multicoloured mist surrounded the circle, dipping and twisting swiftly between the seated figures before coalescing on Giles. It spiralled tightly round his body, driving a spike of purest arousal down his spine and forward. He groaned loudly, crushing the fingers of the hands of Anya and Amy in an effort not to touch himself right in front of them, to relieve the near agony of desire.

Tara and Willow, glowing with the power of the Circle, were first to rise in a trance and leave the clearing for their own home. They were swiftly followed by the other two couples, making their respective ways home also, to be rejoined after the symbolic separation of two weeks' abstinence. Giles was left alone, the mist of earth magic dissipating only slowly and leaving him, as he had expected, unbearably aroused and painfully conscious of the love in his heart which had no answering echo. Unseen except by the elements, he wept silently there for a time before wiping his face with his sleeve, going to fetch his glasses and shoes from outside the clearing, and returning to his hotel room to do for himself what he needed.

London Headquarters, Watchers' Council, Monday October 1st, 2001,10.15 a.m.

"Good heavens, what happened to you, man?"

Quentin Travers looked with genuine concern at his colleague Robert Parker. The latter looked as if he had been used as an all purpose garden tool; he smelled of wet cut grass, and several scratches on his face were ingrained with dirt as well as his own blood. There seemed also to be soil in his hair and under every fingernail. He was clearly exhausted, but wore a triumphant expression.

"Busy with some extra-mural studies, Quentin old boy" he replied. "You know I asked for some time off a few weeks back? I wanted to follow a lead that occurred to me when we were discussing the problem of the Slayer. Well, I think I may have found something. I made contact with some Elementals over here - it's their friends in the States who have been reluctant to help Rupert Giles with his removals. Well, I discovered " he indicated his dishevelled state "after some... discussion, that it's not just the matter of their fee. For some reason they really *won't * tell me, they don't want those books to leave Sunnydale."

"But they're no use to us there, without someone..." Travers stopped, as realisation hit him.

"Yes." agreed Parker. "It would seem that our Rupert is indeed the key to the mystery of the Slayer. You must let me contact him as soon as possible."

The Magic Box, Sunnydale, California. Monday October 1st 2001, 2.15 p.m.

" Well, I suppose you could be pretending to be browsing " Anya told Giles reluctantly. "but don't be too obvious. I don't want the other customers to get the idea that this is a free reference library. Do you have clean hands?"

Giles rolled his eyes and held up both hands in a mock display of cleanliness. He climbed the stairs to the half-loft where Anya continued to keep the dangerous and/or poorly understood magical texts, reference works and items. After five years, he knew the volumes of Slayer lore, which had by now already reached England, virtually by heart. There was nothing in them to cover the present eventuality. One Slayer dies, another is called. It had seemed an immutable rule.

A methodical search from one volume to the next seemed to be the only way forward. Giles had also come prepared with a fountain pen and a box of 3x5 index cards. <<Cross referencing. Just like old times. It seems I'm going to have quite the extended stay in Sunnydale. Humph. Clean hands indeed. She hasn't kept up with the dusting in *this* section>>. He made to lift the first volume from the shelf, checked himself when he looked at the spine, and recited a brief protection spell first.

Lincoln Drive, Los Angeles, California, Tuesday October 9th 2001, 10 p.m.

Dawn Summers sat and shivered in the front passenger seat of Mr. Schulz's station wagon as he rummaged under the engine hood in an effort to find the cause of its sudden stalling. It should have been a pretty straightforward ride home from her and Sadie's study date, but the vehicle had just refused to re-start after the engine inexplicably cut out. Dawn felt unreasonably cold, too. It wasn't that cool a night.

"Tell Giles to call me"

It felt like Buffy whispering in her ear. But it was not Buffy's voice, could not be. A breeze like a sigh floated around the inside of the wagon, even though the windows were all rolled up.

"Call me, I'll come to you"

The whispering came on the tail of the breeze.

<<Oh God, not again. I thought I'd done with this>> Dawn thought despairingly. She shrank into the seat, turning her head away from the whispering sound, and jumped with a little scream when she saw Mr Schulz's face at the window next to her. He was tapping patiently on the glass for her to open the door.

"Gee, I'm sorry honey, didn't mean to scare you. Look, I think I'll have another go at starting up. Open up the door would you? My hands are just covered in grease, and I think I left my cleaning rag inside." The engine fired first time.

Hank Summers was pacing nervously in front of the door when the bell finally sounded. He wanted to give his daughter a normal life, visiting friends, going out, but if ever she was even a few moments late, it was hard to avoid panic. He'd already lost one of his beautiful girls...

"Sweetheart, I'm just glad you're okay!" he cried as Dawn came in the door, apologising and explaining about the car trouble." How is Sadie?"

"Sadie? Oh, she's... fine, Dad. Look, can I just go right up to bed now? I'm so tired" Dawn went to hang up her bag in the hallway.

"Sure. It's pretty late anyhow, and I'll just bet you and Sadie are just worn out with all that chattering - I mean studying" Hank, grinned, his relief showing in the attempt at humour. He missed the haunted look on Dawn's face.

What he could not miss was the shocked scream from her room a few minutes later.

He rushed upstairs to find Dawn standing in the open doorway of her room, staring at her bed.

In the middle of the baby blue bedspread was a substantial heap of dry earth.

"Huh? You didn't leave it like this, did you?" the question sounded inane even as it passed his lips.

"Of *course* not, Dad! What is it, what does it *mean*?" All the terror she had felt in Mr. Schulz's car came back to her then and she burst into tears.

"Dawn, sweetie, maybe it was a raccoon got in, or ants, or ...I don't know" he finally confessed. "We'd better just clear it up and put the spread in to wash. I'll call an exterminator in the morning".

When Dawn finally fell asleep it was near midnight.

She was in a place she didn't recognise. The light had an unnatural quality, and there seemed to be neither top nor bottom to the world. Then clear as a bell came her sister's voice.

"Dawnie. Tell Giles to call me, call, and I'll come to him" Then she saw her, clothed only in the strange light, but surrounded by four figures whose beings flowed into each other to form a protective circle around her. One was a creature that seemed to consist of flame, one a slowly spinning tornado which whispered and sang, the third a pillar of eternally falling water, the last - the last like a rich furrow of land, the earth the exact same colour as that which had lain on her bed.

Dawn woke with a start and marched down to the kitchen, where her father and Laura were sharing a wake up pot of coffee before getting ready for work. "Okay, Dad, this is the sitch. You *have* to take me to see Giles. He's in Sunnydale right now, I know because Willow told me when she and Tara came to visit. Weird things upon more weird are happening, I'm not going nuts, but I need someone who can make some sense of it."

"Dawn, you *understood* why we wanted you to stay away from Sunnydale.. We were sorry you couldn't be there for your friends'...ceremony" Hank looked uneasy; it had been a relief to him when the two Wiccans had explained that Dawn was too young actually to take part, and he had used that as an excuse to keep Dawn away. He had let her call, and send a gift.

"*I need to see Giles*"

Sunnydale Public Library, Wednesday October 10th, 2001, 9.30 a.m.

"You don't *check* your hotmail account, Giles? But that's the whole point of email, it gets to you more quickly than the regular kind, but only if you collect it!" Willow despaired of her friend and mentor sometimes.

"As far as I am concerned", grumbled Giles as he waited for the system to boot up, "post is what comes through a slot in the door so you can't miss it. I even used to forget to empty my mailbox at the apartment sometimes" "You should give me your password, and I can check yours when I check mine, and then tell you if there's anything important"

"I thought email accounts were supposed to be private". Giles raised his eyebrows and looked at her over his spectacles.

"Yeah, they are...sorta". Willow knew she could access pretty much anyone's account, password or no, and she knew Giles knew too. "Hey, here we are." She made a show of covering her eyes as he got in to his account. There were only a few inbox, mostly server announcements. The address of one long message, however, caught Giles' eye and he opened that one. What he read caused him to gasp aloud, sweep off his glasses and squint closely at the screen.

Despite her resolve not to peek, Willow couldn't help but notice his surprise and shock.

"Giles? Giles, what is it?"

He turned to her white faced and shaking, but as much with suppressed excitement as with fear.

"Buffy. There might be a way to...get her back"

Willow unconsciously backed up a step and shook her head, worried for him. Buffy's death had hit him so hard, even though he had tried to be strong for all their sakes.

Giles gave a tired little laugh "It's all right Willow, not quite off my rocker yet. See for yourself". He gestured at the screen with the hand that still held his glasses, and sat back, chin resting on the trembling other hand.

rparker@watch.org.uk
rupert.giles@hotmail.com
Rupert,
I hope you are seated when you read this. Further to our conversation in London I conducted some private enquiries. Certain 'elements' close to our organisation suggest that the effect of your action on August 14th last was to begin to summon the essence of Buffy Summers from a dimension in which it is trapped due to the death of her natural body. They further suggest that the undertaking of a certain further ritual may make it possible for her to be returned to you much as she was. The crucial requirements are first, the presence of the energy made flesh who now exists as Dawn Summers, and the knowledge of how that flesh was made. If you can find those two things, there may be a chance. But my sources warn that you need to act quickly. Yours very sincerely,
Robert Parker.

"Giles, the date on this is from last week. Might there be anything helpful still at the Shop? "

" I've not looked at everything properly yet. All the volumes I've been researching are hard to access in some way or written in very obscure languages. However, I might have some idea from this which ones to ignore from now on".

He was still staring, mesmerised, at Parker's message, and did not hear her approach until her voice behind him made him start to his feet with a muffled oath. Dawn Summers looked reprovingly at him for a second, then threw herself unceremoniously into his arms.

"Giles, I'm so glad to see you, it's Buffy! I know you're gonna think I'm really and truly crazy this time but I think there may be a way..." "...to bring her back" finished her companions together. All three stood staring wide-eyed at the others as if they could still scarcely believe what they were talking about. Then Dawn fished in her bag and held out something for Giles and Willow to see.

"I was looking at this on the ride over, in the back seat so Dad wouldn't see. I never opened it before today, it seemed...rude, somehow, even after...I think you should read it"

It was Buffy Summers' Diary.

"Not here" said Giles decisively. He shut down the computer terminal and strode out of the Library to the red convertible, loaned without question by Xander. Dawn rushed over to her father's car for a hurried farewell, promising to call as and when she needed to return to LA. Then she jumped in the back behind Giles and Willow, and they sped back to the Magic Box.

Fortunately business was less than brisk that morning, as the proprietor, her assistant and their two visitors were all gathered round the big table. Michael and Xander were out at work, Tara attending class.

"According to Buffy's last entry, dated the day before her death, the four Elementals came to her in a prophetic dream. She had noticed the more than natural connection she felt to her sister; they caused her to understand that the monks had discovered how to conjure flesh in which to clothe the energy that was the key" began Giles, glancing at Dawn at this last point. "The catalyst that they apparently used was their faith. The Elementals repeated what Buffy's spirit guide told her - that she was full of love. She thought this meant her own love for her sister." Giles paused, thinking hard. Something struck him suddenly and he gestured excitedly with one hand. "Or," he continued "it was not only the love that she had for Dawn and for us, but the love that she *received* from us which made possible her sacrifice...and might make possible her return. Faith and love are both very powerful mystical catalysts".

"Vengeance works, too" put in Anya, which earned her a collective scowl from two of the others and a shamefaced shrug from Willow.

"We must find information to help us use that catalyst. Dawn, Dr. Parker was insistent that you will be needed too. Can you arrange to stay with Willow and Tara again for a few days? If necessary I can drive you to school" Giles knew that ordinarily the Elementals could not strictly be summoned, only appealed to. They chose whom they approached and for their own reasons; they had sent their message to him via Dawn because she was of the same blood as Buffy, and by way of Robert Parker because he knew the secret of Giles' own heart. It was up to him to call Buffy back whole, body and soul.

The responsibility terrified him, and he exulted in it.

Breaker's Woods, Sunnydale, California, Saturday October 13th,2001, midnight
until dawn.

The moonless night waited, listening, watching. Something was happening to the magic in the earth. Something that had to do with the man who sat alone on the ground. The man who sang silently, in his heart, calling his beloved back to him, the song never ceasing, his heart never emptying, all night long.

Nothing synthetic here; a bowl of stone, a flame of fire, a rising mist, a gourd of soil, a single breath, a drop of human blood, of Summers blood freely given, and the entreaty of love.

Elementals: Earth, Air, Fire, Water, circling, approaching, bringing the beloved clothed again in human form.

He did not know how he had maintained the song for so many hours. Only that he would have sung a year and a day to see the sight he did. Buffy, asleep in the clearing at his feet.

She stirred softly, opened her eyes. "Giles? What am I doing here? There was...a long fall, darkness, then, you calling me, over and over. I...should be dead; *must* be. But..."

He moved then, awkwardly, to cover her with a fine woollen blanket and help her to her feet.

"Hush, Buffy love, it's all right, come with me and I'll take you back". She stumbled as she rose, so he simply picked her up and carried her, so light in his arms. She could never be a burden, only a prize.

As they reached Sunnydale city limits, an invisible wall slammed across their path.

Magic Box, Sunnydale, Sunday October 14th 2001, 1 p.m.

The silent group stared as one at the centre of the table - although it was bare - as if they too could conjure her from the beyond, or from exile.

Giles had been unable to bring her into Sunnydale by any route. It was as if the centre of mystical convergence repelled her, where once it had drawn her as Slayer to where she was so sorely needed. Willow was with her now, in a motel room outside town. The best friends' ecstatic reunion had moved Giles to almost as much joy as he had known, when he first saw her again. Willow had brought Buffy clothes, food and physical comfort as she struggled to absorb what had happened, what was still happening.

"Giles, you have to find out what this is. I can't ignore this; it has to mean something that I can't get into town. It feels like maybe this is wrong, that I shouldn't be here. If there's anyone who can find the answer it's gotta be you", she'd pleaded.

*Had* he been wrong to try to call her back, acting too much against the natural order? It had seemed as if the Elementals had given with one hand and taken back with another. If Buffy could not act as Slayer here where she had been called, what did the future hold? Giles knew in his heart that he'd called her back quite as much for himself as for the world that needed its Slayer. Knew that the catalyst the Elementals had used had been *his*love. He had told the others that as Watcher his spiritual bond with Buffy would enable him to bring all of their love for her to that place, that there was no need for them also to keep vigil, that there might be danger to them. Strictly speaking it was all true. But when put to the test, he had known what was required of him: the honesty he should have shown when he had come to the clearing the first time.

"So if our love brought her back, how come we're still separated?" Xander was struggling to understand. To him, love was just a feeling. The idea that it might have some mysterious power of its own puzzled him.

Tara shyly raised one hand and cleared her throat softly. It was easy to forget that this self-effacing woman had years of experience in the magical arts.

"I-it could be that she n-needs to answer the love. True love is a circle, like the Circle we made, remember at the handfasting? It loses its power if there is no answer."

"But we all love the Buffster, right, gang?" Xander looked round the group for confirmation. He glanced nervously at Anya for an extra second, but she nodded indignantly. "and she loves us, I know, so what's the catch?"

"Plus, I gave my blood, and y'know, eew," Dawn grimaced, "but I wanted to, for her. How come even that wasn't enough?"

The big thing to be said for not saying a lot, thought Tara to herself, was that it meant you had more of a chance to look and listen. When Mr. Giles had insisted that he should go alone to conduct the rite, she had seen more to it than the arguments about danger and focus. For a while before the awful pain and confusion of her rending encounter with Glory, she had had her suspicions about Giles and Buffy. The others joked that Giles was passionless, dedicated only to knowledge and service. Not so, Tara knew. The experience of the Circle of Seven had only confirmed it. There was love and passion in him so strong that it could conquer death.

"Uh, Mr. Giles? Can I talk to you for a minute? In p-private?"

Back Room, The Magic Box ,Sunday October 14th 2001, 1.45 p.m.

"Tara, I can't! I can't ask this of her!"

"You can ask. She doesn't h-have to do it. She deserves to be offered the choice. You need to tell her as soon as possible, to have the time to make preparations if you need to. "

Room 7, Fall Leaves Motor Hotel, nr Sunnydale, California, Sunday October
14th 2001, 3p.m.

"I don't get it ,Giles. You say that what brought me back was love, and my body was formed again from Dawn, just like hers was from me. So if all I have to do to be the Slayer again is love you back, it should be, like, a done deal. I love all you guys," Buffy said sincerely, smiling again at her best friend and her Watcher.

"Willow, would you mind just stepping out for a short time?" Giles asked "Get Buffy another coffee, perhaps?" His look made it clear that privacy rather than coffee was the issue.

"Oh. Hey, sure. I could get a special, and fresh cookies, might be a queue, but what the heck. Extra-happy occasion". She couldn't resist a questioning glance in Giles' direction as she left, but as usual he was giving nothing away.

<<How to say this. Best get straight to it, man, and watch out for her left jab.>>

"Buffy, it wasn't mainly the love your other friends have for you that called you. It was mine"

"I know". It was said brightly, simply, as if it went without saying.

Giles was brought up short. She seemed neither surprised nor angry.

"You...know". Either they were about to have a colossal misunderstanding, or things were very different from what he had supposed. He made a slight noise, encouraging her to go on.

"You've been my Watcher for five years, Giles. Stayed even when you didn't have to, because you thought...you *knew* I needed you. Even when I didn't always know that" she added sadly. "Like that council guy said, what's-his-face-Travers. He was so wrong. You remember Kendra? Miss Perfecto Fighting Machine? She didn't have friends or family, was taught it made her a better Slayer. She couldn't even tell me her Watcher's make of tea. They weren't that close, even though he brought her up. You made me a better Slayer even than her. You never let me close my heart." She was looking him straight in the eye now, with warm affection. "All the time, in the darkness, I knew it was you I had to reach".

"So I don't see the hitch" she finished, frowning slightly.

<<Colossal misunderstanding it is. Oh God>>

"Buffy, the love which I'm talking about isn't just... affection, loyalty... friendship, though Lord knows, I feel all those too. It's...about me as a man. As...oh damn, I can't say this!"

Buffy was looking warily at him now. "Giles, I think you'd better" she warned.

"I love you, Buffy. I was...I am... *in love* with you".

For better or worse - oh the irony of that phrase! - it could not be undone now.

"And I haven't...returned *that*" Buffy said slowly, at last. He wished he knew what was going on in her mind; normally so open, she was utterly still and unreadable.

"No. Apparently...well, obviously not," Giles spread his hands slightly to indicate 'and so here we are'.

"So. Suppose things stay like that. What's the prob? Why the mystical exclusion zone?" she sounded absurdly businesslike. "You know," she went on a trifle more gently, "Xander thought he was in love with me for like, ages. Didn't stop us being friends. No big. I can deal." She still sounded as though she were trying to convince herself, but it was a brave effort. The one thing he had to be grateful for so far in her response was the absence of the word 'eew'. It would have been a blow he doubted he could have survived. She was being sensible, mature, putting it all into perspective. She wasn't (yet) disgusted. It was all good.

It hurt like hell.

A theatrical cough came from outside the flimsy door.

"Come in, Will".

Their friend put her head round the door, registered the high voltage tension, and gulped. Shouldering her way into the room, she put the laden tray on the coffee table between Giles and Buffy, and picked up her own cup.

"Ohhkaay. Slayer/Watcher stuff. Big, heavy, Slayer/Watcher stuff. I'm gone. Be in the lobby if you need me," and she was, indeed, gone.

Buffy made a show of selecting a cookie, lifted her cup with equal deliberation and took a sip, regarding Giles intently over the rim. "Why am I suddenly guessing it's not that simple?" she asked.

"Probably because, as usual, it isn't. If we do nothing, you cannot return to Sunnydale as the Slayer. However, the new Slayer cannot be called either. It is in theory possible for you to carry out your duties elsewhere. But this place remains pivotal in vampiric and demonic activity in this generation. As we have several times experienced in the past, the world could be in danger from an evil using Sunnydale as its geographical base."

"So, I have to answer 'present' at roll call. Giles...I can't wave a magic wand, make it happen. I feel like ...like I can't think of you that way and you still be Giles, the way I need you to be Giles. Not making much sense, huh?"

"Some, yes. I'll always try to be the Giles you need, Buffy."

"If my Giles has taught me nothing else, it's that I *am* the Slayer and I have to do this. So what are my options?" Buffy made a passable stab at Willow's patented 'resolve face'.

Giles sighed. There really was no way out of this. He took off his glasses and folded them, concentrating carefully on a tiny scratch on one lens as he spoke.

"It seems that when I called you it was necessary for you to answer in kind " he summarised. "The nature of...sexual love, is that, unlike other loves, it demands a response. A parent can love an errant child, a friend can be loyal even when betrayed. Their love is still complete in itself, even through disappointment. Though you cannot return my...feeling for you, there is one other way to answer my call to you. Believe me that I did not intend this, Buffy."

Buffy's eyes grew round and her jaw dropped, then she covered her mouth with one hand and hastily put down her coffee before it spilled.

"You mean I have to... to...with you?" she finally whispered. She looked straight at him then, and blessedly there was only the question between them, and the confirming answer. They both recognised that sometimes consequences could not be foreseen, that blame was useless, that what was done...

Giles looked away. Tara was right. If must be Buffy's decision. He had laid the choice before her, as he had always done, now it was up to her.

"How long do I have to decide?" To the point. The right question.

"Tara tells me that ideally we should use the time before the moon starts to appear in the night sky again; it can have unforeseen influence on earth magic. We have two more nights."

"Tara? Tara knows?!"

"It seems that in these matters she has more wisdom than I. She was the one who saw what had happened, what was needed to put it right. She has sworn her highest oath not to tell anyone, not even Willow, so much as the subject of this conversation".

"Giles, can you leave me alone a while? Gotta let Buffy speak to Buffy for a bit".

"Of course. Buffy, I'm so sorr..."

"Nope, don't be sorry. Be Giles, remember?"

He had been sitting for half an hour next to a silent Willow, who had caught his mood very swiftly and realised he did *not* want to discuss what he and Buffy had talked about. A hand on his shoulder startled him momentarily, then terrified him as he realised who it was.

He followed her outside the building, Willow correctly guessing that she should stay where she was.

Buffy stopped and turned to him in the little garden at the back of the motel. She put out her hand and took his, then simply said "We can do this, and you'll still be Giles."

Breakers Woods, Sunnydale, California, Monday October 15th 2001, 6p.m.

"You had Will hang a 'do not disturb' sign up? Giles, can you *get* more obvious?!"

Buffy looked in disbelief at her Watcher, who was gathering natural materials for a shelter against the night when it should arrive. She had to admit that the light clothes he had apparently worn for the last earth magic, at Willow and Tara's ceremony, were happily doing little to disguise his body as he stretched and bent to the tasks. He was in pretty good shape. Despite her own discontent with her fashion-free state in a borrowed linen shift, she had to conclude that less was definitely more. Unused to thinking of Giles in a 'guy' way, she figured that if this was to have any chance of succeeding, she had better start trying.

"Virtually all outdoor magic, and most indoors, requires a basic ward. That's all I asked her for, and she didn't enquire. The point is, no-one will come here for the twenty four hours from four o'clock this afternoon." Giles began to bend saplings into an arch to form the frame for the shelter, grunting with effort as he secured them with hemp twine in their new positions

"You sure you don't want some help with that? Remember, *me* Tarzan?" teased Buffy, her humour reasserting itself over the awkward tension of the preparations so far.

"There are specific and prescribed tasks in this kind of ritual, as I explained to you this afternoon. I was responsible for calling you back to this reality", he paused, looking as though he was going to start apologising again, but relenting at Buffy's warning glare, "so I build the shelter which I invite you to enter at the proper time, that is, nightfall."

"Like the bower bird!" exclaimed Buffy. "Do I get to reject it if I don't like the pattern?"

"No. I must say your knowledge of natural history is more extensive than I had thought. You must have been paying attention at least some of the time in High School"

"Nah. Discovery Channel".

"I should have guessed. Pass me one of those bigger blankets, would you?" They could have been engaged in a game at summer camp, the usual gentle banter covering their painful consciousness of the time approaching that could alter their relationship, for good or ill, forever. Buffy handed over the coarse woollen blankets one at a time, to be used to drape over the outside of the shelter and make it wind-proof, and watched as Giles carefully tucked and pinned them into position with split twigs. Then he stood back to assess his handiwork, seemed satisfied and returned to where she was sitting barefoot on the grass next to a heap of cushions and coverings. Kneeling down, he began to sort through them, bringing the labels close to his eyes so that he could double-check their suitability.

"Everything really does have to be natural, huh? Could at least have let you see properly. And Tara made me scrub off all my makeup. How come you get to wear this?" She reached over to Giles' left earlobe and touched one finger to the gold hoop he wore in it. He started, and turned towards her, their faces so close they nearly touched. The loving, hopeful look in his green eyes vanished as she dropped her hand and looked down at the ground. Sighing, he concentrated once more on giving information.

"Gold and copper are earth metals, nothing more natural. It helps me feel more...at ease" Buffy hoped he was more at ease than he sounded. "And you have no need of artifice" he finished earnestly.

She looked at him again then, stilling his restless sorting by placing her hand on his arm and squeezing it gently.

"Giles, if I could make this better; make it what you wish it could be..."

"Don't. Don't offer what you think I want. Only what you have. This... this is only necessary because of my actions. The most I can hope for is your forgiveness afterwards".

Afterwards. If there was an afterwards for them both. If she could still stand the sight of him.

Something compelled Giles to offer her one last escape route, as they faced each other across the pile of shimmering and sumptuous stuffs, some of it borrowed from Tara, some, the heavier velvet silken drapes and throws, from the Magic Box storeroom.

"You understand what the bar on bringing anything not in its natural form into the shelter includes?" he asked her carefully. Buffy, her face grave, began to stroke the plush nap of one indigo pillow. Giles couldn't tear his eyes away from the slow, sensual movement.

"I understand. No barrier. No 'protection', Just you and me" she said simply.

"You'll come to no harm, I swear it. As to... the other, c-could you endure it if...if..."

She silenced him with a finger laid to his lips.

"No more ifs. As and when, I deal. It'll be getting dark soon. We should be ready." In her calm regard as she looked straight at him, he could read her determination, if not her desire, and for now it would be enough. He took the velvet pillow from her outstretched hands, added it to the armful he had gathered, and furnished the floor of the shelter for comfort and warmth. Then he opened a small burlap sack and began to take out a few simple foodstuffs, also the objects needed for the brief ceremonial part of the ritual.

They ate together in silence, meeting each other's gaze from time to time, drawing strength, not doubting the necessity of what they were about to do. When the meal was over, Giles kindled a small fire and fixed several fat tallow candles into a stone lantern, putting it just inside the entrance to the shelter. The two of them walked to a nearby stream to cleanse their hands, faces and feet and to fill a shallow wooden bowl with fresh water. They sat very still with the fire between them until the daylight began to fade. Then Giles lit the lantern with a spill of dried grass held in the fire. He took the bowl of water, blew on the surface just enough for it to ripple and shift, and upended it over the flames. Onto the hissing embers he tossed a handful of soil.

The elements acknowledged, he rose to his feet and with a graceful gesture invited Buffy to enter the shelter with him. With the coverings drawn over the open side, they were contained within, in a nest of light and shadows. Giles took Buffy's hands in his.

"Lie with me" he said softly, stretching out on his side on the cushioned floor, guiding her down so she lay facing him.

Whatever she had expected, it was not this. He did not rush to take what he wanted, or to complete the ritual quickly; but there was no fumbling hesitancy either. He knew how to do this, and do it well. The hands that began to stroke her hair, her hands, her face, her throat, were sure but tender, asking, not demanding. He said not a word for a long time save with those skilful hands, and kissed not her lips but her forehead and cheek like a dear friend's greeting after a long journey home. With the back of his hand, he brushed the places he had kissed. Gradually she began to relax, to lean against him, to feel how solid and warm and safe he was. She closed her eyes to breathe in the scent from the hollow of his throat, to listen to his steady breath become shallower and faster. In the flickering light she could see the concentration on his face, the intent to make this possible for her, but also to savour every moment for himself. How could she deny him that? He still made no move to seize her, though she could feel the tension building in him, the hum of physical and emotional anticipation. He was still calling to her without words, pleading now, offering, seeking her answer. She knew he would wait for her response all night if he had to; but he deserved more from her than this torture.

<< I can do this. It's *Giles*. I've trusted him with my life; I can trust him here too>>

His left hand was in her hair, and she put hers up to cover it, then disentangling it, slipped her fingers between his and brought their joined hands to her mouth, kissing his knuckles one by one. She watched the look in his eyes as it changed from asking to wanting, but when he leaned forward until his cheek lay against hers, he spoke in the same voice as before, only a little stronger, inviting, not compelling.

"Touch me"

She wanted to ask him what he wanted, but the hush all around them seemed to make still everything within their space. It stilled her questions and fears; as he had asked before, she would give him what she could. She traced the shape of his collarbone, hampered a little by the fastenings of the loose shirt. Taking one end of the simple tie she pulled the shirt open, exposing the curls of dark hair, which she began to pet gently. Slipping her hand inside to feel more of him made him shift closer to allow her better access; he began, too, to mirror her actions, delving under the neckline of her shift, caressing her shoulder. Then he grasped it more firmly and coaxed her to sit up with him so that they had both hands free. He brought hers to the front of his shirt, and had her pull it off over his head. He reached for the fastenings of her dress, which were at the back, but merely unhooked them, making no move yet to completely unclothe her, leaving her that control.

Buffy had her arms at his waist now, embracing him and rubbing her cheek against his chest hair as his hands reached every part of her back that he could, and as she raised her head to look at him he kissed her on the mouth for the first time. He kissed wonderfully, opening her mouth with his; when he pulled away for a second, she met him herself and drew his head back down with a hand on his neck. Just the tips of their tongues met, greeted with the barest of tastes, then flicked together gently, repeatedly. It was going to be okay. It was going to be so much better than okay. She pulled one shoulder of the dress off, then the other, pulling the whole garment forward and down, baring herself utterly so that he gasped, a breath of wonder and delight.

She wanted to see all of him too, now, and loosening the drawstring of the pants he still wore, she began to shift the material down over his hips. The contact on his skin made him buck and groan; she could feel his heart rate increase and his breath quicken even more, and she paused in her task to stroke straight down his back and ass with both hands in one sweep down inside the pants. The uncontrolled sound he made at that thrilled her. She helped him as he turned and struggled a little to kick off the pants and they lay back down together, skin to skin.

He was not unmarked, like the barely grown boys she had known until now. He had had a hard life, harder still since he'd met her. The word Watcher seemed such a tame one, such a failure to encompass his care and protection of her, his sacrifices. He was marked everywhere: whilst she could not see the scars clearly in the half-light, she could feel the worst of them, including the one left by the ragged hole in his side that had nearly taken him from her on that desert road. For so many of these wounds, she might as well have struck the blow herself.

"I'm sorry" she said "For all the times I hurt you" she traced his jaw as well as his side, her regret as much for the pain she'd caused his heart as the injuries to his body.

"Shh. Make it up to me" He put her hand lower down on his belly, where she could feel the contrasting softness of his flank and hardness of his erection, and gave her a meaningful look. Her eyes widened at the shift in his attitude. He didn't sound tentative and pleading anymore; her venture had made him bold. She pressed close against him and they began to make love in earnest, the point of no return already passed without a mention. There was time for play as well as earnest, time to explore and experiment, to find which touches pleased and which gave pause. She loved him to use teeth, tongue and lips to nip, soothe and suckle on her breasts, to brush his fingertips at her wrists and behind her knees, bringing the touches in to her sides and her centre where heat had begun to flow and ebb in a turning tide.

He loved her to taste his skin, to kiss her way from temple to mouth, to move her body against him slowly, steadily, glorying in the differences of shape and form. On an impulse, Buffy tugged at the gold earring she could see glinting in the candlelight, and was surprised when Giles tensed and a shudder of pleasure ran through his whole body.

"You like that?" she wondered.

"God, yes. Again...bit harder"

"Doesn't it hurt?" but she did as he asked, pulling firmly on the earlobe.

"Aah...yes, hurts...but it's good, makes me hot, feel it..."

She trailed the same hand swiftly down the front of his body and deliberately scraped her fingernails quite hard up and down his penis. She was rewarded by a stream of urgent cries and swearwords she had never heard him utter before. He twisted on the covers, and as soon as she paused in her delicious task, he rolled her onto her back, settling most of his weight on her, moving insistently against her, smiling ferally, seizing one wrist and running his bared teeth along the tender skin on the inside of her arm. Instead of scaring her, the mock aggression ignited an answering fire in her core.

"You want pain? You want a fight, Giles?" In a way she'd always known that their training combat did something for him, put a sparkle in his eye and a spring in his step. That fighting was also some part of his sexuality didn't greatly shock her.

She exerted her Slayer strength against him with ease, flipping him over and sitting astride him, pinning his arms out at the sides with her knees. Their rolling and wrestling jostled the structure of the shelter and they both laughed aloud.

"Surrender?" she challenged him, leaning over so that her long blonde hair trailed on his chest and throat. She kissed him deeply, then freed his arms, which at once moved to between her legs and started to tease her again.

"No, I think subversion". He was describing tightening spirals over the wet flesh, winding the spring tighter, tensing her like a crossbow ready to let fly. "Get you to sleep with the enemy".

"Considering it", Buffy breathed, relaxing into the sensations, rocking against his thumbs, riding the tide, climbing higher, flying apart with a shout. She came down to earth loving the expression of awe and pride on Giles' face, and slid over to lie against the cushions and pull him down onto her, spreading herself open to him. With another full sweep of her hands down his back, she drove him home like a stake.

Giles' higher brain functions were rapidly shutting down, his consciousness spinning inwards to the place their bodies met. Her strong internal muscles worked on him, in counterpoint to his thrusts; he'd forgotten the intensity of this pleasure, magnified by the direct contact, no barrier between. He hadn't experienced that in years, never taken this kind of risk. He could feel the magic rising in him, trying to connect them to the power that would pull Buffy back to her destiny. He needed to focus it, to reach the earth. Raised up over her, braced on his arms on either side of her shoulders, he pushed aside some of the coverings until he felt grass beneath his hands. They'd been going at a steady rhythm, taking delight in each other with every movement; now the drumbeat in his blood became louder, faster; the answering song in hers was beginning to soar again.

Tendrils of mist curled into the shelter, coalescing around them, pursuing them as they pursued each other, racing to the peak together. The magic poured through Giles at the point of orgasm: Buffy felt it run through her too, reflecting back again, grounding where his hands touched the earth, seizing then releasing them to fall headlong from heaven. There was an almighty cracking sound in the air, but they couldn't tell how much was the explosion in their minds, and what might be a stray thunderclap.

He held her still in his arms, kissing and caressing her gently, thanking her for her trust in him, her willingness to do this, for the ecstasy and the peace. Suddenly she realised: there was no-one in her life, perhaps no-one on this earth, quite like him, so brave and so dear, so devoted to her. Together they could do anything. She saw what they had been to each other.

What they might yet be.

What they should be.

"Giles?"

"Hmm?" The lassitude was starting to overtake him, he was drifting into sleep.

"I love you".

He was wide awake again, turning to her in amazement. "Did you just say..."

"Uh huh. I'm so dumb. When I was a silly kid, you were old and tweedy and strict Watcher- guy. I'm all grown up now.I see you,the real you, and... I love you, Giles"

"This isn't just...what we did? It does make one feel...extremely mellow" He sighed contentedly. "You're not perhaps mistaking that for...other feelings?" He wanted to believe, but his conscience made him ask her if she was sure about this.

"See. I was right. Still Giles. Still Mr. Caution, looking for the rational explanation. Buffy instincts, they know. I.Love.You. And now I want to snuggle with you and go to sleep", she finished, yawning prettily. Dazed still from what they had done, from her words, he could only stare, his mind trying to process it, exhaustion drawing him under. He found a spare warm bedspread to wrap them in, extinguished the guttering candles, held her close to his side, and let sleep take them.

They woke just after dawn, eager to test the boundaries of Sunnydale again. Giles was confident that the ritual had been effective, but there was no time like the present to see if he had been correct. He was gathering up what they had brought with them, preparing to leave the shelter, when he heard a surprised cry from Buffy, who had turned aside the 'door' to go outside. Going to join her, he stared with her at the scene in the clearing. Scorch marks ran across the ground from the shelter to the trees at the edge. Struck as if by lightning, they had literally exploded, sending showers of bark in all directions. They turned to each other in wonder.

"Giles, did we do that?"

"Yes, I rather think we must have."

The Magic Box, Sunnydale, Tuesday October 16th, 2001, 8.00 a.m.

"...so, seeing as how Giles did it for Tara and Willow, I thought maybe he wouldn't mind acting as Seventh for me and Anya. We're s'posed to have a regular wedding, 'cos of my folks, but Anya, well, it doesn't mean anything for her. A Circle would be much more her thing"

Xander looked up from his conversation with Amy to see Giles and Buffy in the open doorway of the shop. With a happy cry he ran to embrace her, promising to tell the rest of the gang as soon as he could. "So, hey, the Hellmouth border police let you through, Buff. Welcome back . Did you go through the green channel, or did you have anything to declare?"

Buffy looked at Giles, who silently nodded agreement. She took his hand for the others to see.

"Yeah. Guess I did."

THE END
September 2001