Title: Daughter Of The Night
Author: theCat
CONTACT: greycat1@airmail.net
DISCLAIMER: NOT mine, none of 'em. But, damn, a woman can wish!
No profit. No gain. Just borrowing for fun. I promise I will give them back.
Joss, remember I promised.
DISTRIBUTION: Anyone who wants it, only has to ask.
SUMMERY: Giles is brutally injured. How will Buffy cope?
RATING: NC-17
SPECIAL THANKS: Thanks to Paula for a ferociously great beta.
(huge grin) I’m posting this because she said I should. This is a Buffy/Giles
love story: warning. Contains passion, sex, love, passion, more sex,
vampires, demons, witches, magick, hermetic ritual, Qaballistic protocol
and other "improbable" occurrences.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Also contains graphic descriptions of rape and
sexual abuse on non-consenting adults.
FEEDBACK: Yes Please!

---

*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*

"Is he there?" Hollow echoes of voices, dulled by the black, creeping fog. A
feminine gasp and groan. "Please say he is."

"Xander! Here!" Sounds of feet scuffling. The darkness trembled.

"Jesus! Look at the blood. Buffy, you don't want to see this. Get out of. .
. "

"Get her out of here!" Giles recognized the roughened male voice and heard
no
threat, simply the other's anguish. But Giles' pain quivered, an arrow
piercing
its target; trembling on the edge of awareness the deep throbbing continued,
pulsing low in his body, manifesting in liquid leaking from his loins, in
tearing anguish, agony, breath that hung on the edge of oblivion.

Her voice: "Where is he, please, let me--"

No! Please! The darkness shimmered. God, not her, her light. Not like this!
Bright bubbles popped and a sickening green and yellow pinwheel spun at the
center. In the distance a siren sounded.

Buffy Summers screamed.

*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*

"Which one of you is Elizabeth Ann Summers?"

Buffy raised her head from Xander's shoulder. "I am."

"Ah, Ms. Summers. Mr. Giles has you listed as next of kin. There are some
things
I need to speak about with you. Will you please come with me?"

Xander squeezed her hand as she stood, then patted her arm. "You need us to
come with?"

She numbly declined Xander's offer.

"Okay, then we'll be here waiting."

Willow and Tara smiled sadly at her, tightly clasping each other's hands.
"Go
on. We aren't leaving."

Buffy followed the young doctor down the hall. They entered a small
conference
Room. Something inside Buffy quailed, knowing what this sort of privacy in
the ER meant. "Is he alive?" Her voice sounded hollow and stiff.

"Yes." The doctor glanced around the room and settled into a straight-back
chair. "He's alive." He held out a hand. "Sit down, Ms. Summers." He took
off
his glasses and put them in his jacket pocket. "I'm Brian Hollowell. I need
to
talk to you about some very delicate things and I don't quite know how to do
it."

Two fat tears seeped from Buffy's eyes. "Just do it," she whispered. "What
happened to Giles?"

Brian pressed two fingers against his temple and stared at the young woman
who perched on the edge of the couch. "Are you Mr. Giles blood relative, Ms.
Summers."

Buffy shook her head. "A very close friend."

"Uh . . ." Brian flipped several pages in the chart self-consciously. "Are
you
two lovers?"

Buffy looked at him, her face mirroring her confusion. "Er . . . no," she
whispered, "We're not lovers."

The young Doctor nodded. His face suddenly evidenced less strain, but a tide
of
blood stained his ears red. He gathered himself tightly, then blurted out,
"Do
you happen to know if Mr. Giles is homosexual?"

All the color drained from Buffy's face, leaving two crimson spots on her
cheeks
and her hands trembling. She gripped the curve of her knees, trying to
steady
herself, and took a deep breath. Thoughts ran helter-skelter through her
mind.
"Ah, Dr. Hollowell . . ." she took another deep breath and felt her head
spinning, "Why would you ask that?"

Hollowell skimmed the notes again, his face creased with sympathy. "The . .
.
uh, the nature of Mr. Giles injuries," he said quietly. He glanced at Buffy
and
found her gaze riveted on his face.

"Tell me." Her voice froze him. She had gone from frightened girl to woman
in
total control in the space of one breath.

Brian Hollowell turned his face from her intense stare. Too naked, he
thought.
The fringe on the edge of a lampshade shivered in the stream of air from a
fan,
throwing dancing shadows at the wall. The doctor watched the shadows shimmy
and began to speak. His face drew up in a pained frown. "Blunt trauma to the
abdomen, lacerations." He looked up at her, peering over his glasses. "Mr.
Giles
has been repeatedly and brutally violated --"

"Violated?" Silence panned across the room. Buffy's brows drew together in a
frown. "Is that another way of saying . . . . " She drew a choking breath,
"Raped?" The word, a razor blade, left the air bleeding between them.

He glanced at the young woman. "Yes," he confirmed gently, "raped. Anally.
Terrible damage, Ms. Summers. His whole genital area is severely
traumatized."
He glanced down at the chart again, hiding his eyes, keeping his feelings a
mystery to the Slayer. "I'd wondered if he were gay and the injuries the
result of an angry lover?"

Buffy took a deep breath, clenched her hands in the material at the edge of
her
shorts, and struggled to keep her voice steady. "I've only known one person
I know Giles made love to . . . and she was a woman."

"Oh." The doctor watched silently as the nature of what had happened to
Rupert
Giles became real to Elizabeth Summers. Watched her savage her lip, watched
her knuckles blanch, watched as anger rushed in a pure flame across her face
and the look in her blue eyes brittled into shards of diamond. He quailed
away from her, realizing that Elizabeth Summers was not the child she
appeared to be, amazed at the depth of emotion she obviously felt for Rupert
Giles. Lucky man!
Then her gaze fixed on him again and her words fell heavily between them.
"Brutally and . . . . " Buffy gulped, "repeatedly?"

"Yes, Miss Summers, I'm so sorry. He is being transfused right now, as we
speak." Brian shuffled through some papers. "Would you sign these? They are
consent forms. Mr. Giles cannot sign them himself at the moment."

The Slayer glanced at the papers, scanning their content, and reached for
the
doctor's pen.

"I'm assuming you are of age," he said, remembering how her rage had mapped
her face into maturity.

"I'm well over twenty-one," she said replied wearily. "Do you need proof of
that?"

He shook his head and accepted the papers she handed back.

She looked up at him again, her eyes now a bleak blue. "I want to see him?"

"When he's been stabilized. Dr. Romer and Dr. Sutton are with him now."

"Who are they?" Buffy shifted slightly on the soft chair. Her heart thudded
tightly in her throat and, above the aching silence of the room, and through
her Slayer's senses and the tie that joined Slayer and Watcher, she felt the
trickle of brightness that was Giles clinging to life. She shivered at the
cold of death haunting this place.

"Romer is a proctologist," Brian glanced at the chart. "Sutton is a
urologist.
Mr. Giles is going to need surgery. Tonight."

Tears gushed to her eyes. "I have to see him," she whispered, her voice
trembling now and brittle. "He can't go off to surgery and not know that I'm
here."

"Ms. Summers-"

"I'm Buffy," she snapped.

"Buffy," said Hollowell, glancing at her with compassion, "He's heavily
sedated."

"I don't care. He'll know I'm there," she whispered, her voice a shiver on
his
spine. "Please," she sighed, "Let me go to him. I'll sit in the corner like
a mouse."
What are you to him, the young Doctor wondered. So young. So lovely. Of
course, the brutal savagery perpetrated on Rupert Giles . . . well, who knew
what the
man really looked like. Or, for that matter, what sort of man he was. Her
anguished devotion indicated he was something special. The pain in her gaze
made up his mind. "Come with me, quietly. You can sit on a stool by his bed
for a few minutes if the doctors are finished."

"Thank you." Buffy plodded quietly along behind the doctor, her tennis shoes
whispering on the vinyl-tile. They passed through the electric doors and
down to a glassed cubical, where the curtains closed out prying eyes. Dr.
Hollowell held out his hand, motioning her to remain where she was. He
stepped within the curtains, and then his head popped back out. "Come in."

His invitation hung on the air.

Buffy smiled uncertainly, then slipped between the panels of ugly grey
material. She stifled a cry with her fist. Hollowell watched the color fade
from her cheeks
again. He led her to a stool and sat her down beside the side rails.

Buffy gnawed on her bottom lip and her gaze moved over Giles. Black eye,
split
lip, deep laceration on his left temple. That was stitched. Various and
sundry
bruises dotted the exposed portions of his arms. An IV catheter stabbed into
each forearm. Blood dripped through one. She glanced at the plastic packet.
It
was nearly empty, but Giles complexion still looked like unpainted sheet
rock.
How much blood can you lose and live?

Giles' face, normally so mobile and expressive that his looks changed like
quicksilver --- so that gazing at him became an adventure --- that wonderful
face was now blackened, bruised, torn. A long gash divided his right eyebrow
neatly in two. His right ear oozed blood.

Buffy glanced down at his hands and saw scuffed knuckles, bruises. No broken
bones. But the horror, the most extensive injury to her Watcher, she knew
was hidden beneath the warm blanket drawn up around his chin. She slipped
her hand in between the side-rail bars and laid her fingers gently on his
arm. Her voice whispered a benediction made of his name. "Oh, Giles . . ."

Padding the side-rail with a hand-towel, she lay her head against it. A
pain-filled sigh forced its way from deep within her. Her eyes teared, the
rain of her anguish sliding down her cheeks.

"He is deeply sedated," Brian Hollowell told her. "I am going to keep him
that
way for at least 48 hours, Buffy. He will be in terrible pain."

Buffy nodded and stroked Giles' arm softly, her spirit reaching out to
caress
the flickering light that was his soul. Her misery left a wet trail along
the edge of the crisp white sheets.
*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*

"Does Spike know anything?" Xander asked as he barged through Giles' front
door. Willow and Tara had gone in search of the vampire and had secreted him
in Giles' basement when the sun rose at dawn. Willow nodded to the door and
Xander yelled, "Spike."

Spike's bleached head poked up from Giles' cellar. "Is 'e okay?"

Xander shook his head. "No. He's out of surgery, but they tore him up." He
chewed hard on his lip.

"Bloody bastards. I would like to get my hands on them. Maybe the chip
wouldn't stop me." The vampire's eyes glowed bright yellow from the shadows
of the stairwell. "Heard some talk in Willie's last night. There's a cabal
moved into town."

"A cabal?" Xander spun around. "What's a cabal?"

"Well," the vampire leaned against the doorframe, his eyes losing their
game-gold, and folded his arms, "the best bloody description I can think of
is a cabal is a secret group with a secret purpose."

"Secret?" Willow left Tara's side and moved to stand in front of Spike.
"What
sort of secret? Occult?"

"Bastards are usually political, but in this case, yes--I do believe the
ponces are
practitioners of the dark arts." he said smugly.

Willow nodded. "Anything else we might find helpful, Spike?"

"Damn me if I know what you might find helpful," the vampire grumbled.

"Like, did the cabal 'do' Giles last night? If so, why? What have you heard,
Dead Boy?" Xander's voice dropped an octave into a brittle growl.

"The pillocks want the Slayer. Need her for something. Can't say what. No
one is talking. Only thing I heard is they figured hurting the Watcher would
hurt her, make her careless." He looked around Giles' home. "I'm hungry," he
whined. "You grabbed me before I fed."

Willow snorted and made a pained face. "Xander, go look in the freezer . See
if Giles has some bags of . . . uhm, frozen . . . ah, I mean, Tara, help me
out here . . . . maybe I'm talking about a Spike-snack in there. And you,
Spike, did you hear if there's a wizard in this cabal?"

Spike crossed his arms and glared belligerently at Willow and Tara.

"Spike," hissed the witch, fingering a bottle-shaped lump in her pocket. The
sound of water sloshed faintly.

"So, what if there is," Spike mumbled, looking away from Willow's tight
stare.
"If there is, I can find him."

"Red bags," Xander announced from the kitchen, fishing one from between the
frozen brocolli and the lima beans.

"Well, give one to Bad Boy, here. Tara and I need to work out a locator
spell."

The promise of food seemed to enhance the vampire's cooperation. "Not a
brilliant idea, Ms. Witch. Cabal equals power. Members have great power. Any
wizard or mage that is part of this cabal could eat you and your lady for
dinner. You'd best wait for the Watcher." Spike's black enameled nails
tapped on
Willow's chin.

Xander, bringing breakfast to the vampire, yanked his hands from Willow's
chin and, grabbing Spike's collar, he twisted it. Spike hissed and vamped.
"Damn, I keep forgetting that won't hurt him. Doesn't breathe." Xander shook
his hand loose from the material. "Here!" He shoved the frozen bag of blood
into Spike's hands.

Spike tucked the packet under his arm and turned to descend back to the
depths
of the cellar. Xander and Willow, standing near, heard him whisper in a
sing-song voice. "There is a mage, indeed, one of the greater ones. Don't
become
a Weeping Willow, little witch. Wait. Plan's gone wrong now. Rupert Giles
didn't
die. He's the X factor they cannot analyze. Wait, little Willow." The
darkness
closed around the vampire. Willow closed the door and leaned against it. She
shivered at the words and the tone of Spike's song.

Xander glanced briefly at her. "He has a point, Wills. Let's wait until
Giles
can at least advise us. Please."

Willow closed her eyes and swallowed. She nodded.

*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*

Buffy still sat on the stool, silent and still, her head pressed against
Gile's
pillow. Finally returned from surgery, Giles slept. The nursing staff had
recently removed the breathing tube and her Watcher breathed again on his
own.

More blood dripped into his left arm. She chewed frantically on her lip.
Salty drops trickled from her eyes and a gentle hiccough of a sob clogged
her throat. Would there be no end to this deluge? She scrubbed her throat,
trying to ease
the tightness there and wondered, indeed, how she had anymore tears to cry.
Giles, oh God, Giles, she thought, staring at her Watcher. What did they do
to
you? Please, come back to me. I need you. I can't do this gig alone. She
touched his hand, tracing the fine bones of his fingers and then the open
palm, up to the strong bones of his wrist. In the silent room the ticking of
the monitors that carried his vital signs to the nurses' station sounded as
loud as a clanging bell. Flat in the bed, seemingly diminished, Giles slept.
What would he do when he left the hospital? How could he manage?

How can I help you? She wondered. Desperation set her heart to pounding, her
thoughts tumbling. I need you so much, part of my life, part of my soul . .
. now you will need me? Will you let yourself need me? Will you let me in,
Giles?

The nurses had left a pile of packages for her, small towelettes to use to
gently wipe Giles' face and some swabs to moisten his mouth. Buffy softly
wiped
a trickle of blood from one of his larger lacerations, then she slipped her
hand
into his still one and lay her head back on the pillow beside him, listening
to
his quiet breathing, letting her fear and another quiet emotion wash through
her.

A shadow moved outside the cubical. Buffy heard the head nurse's voice.
"Yes,
Ms. Wisdom, he's here." The shadow formed into a tall, pale-skinned woman
with startling silver hair tied up in a bun and tawny eyes, exactly the same
color as
the amber fleck that marked Giles left eye. Buffy raised her head and slid
off
the stool.

"You are Elizabeth." The woman held out her hand.

Buffy accepted it and the firm handshake. "Yes," she responded uncertainly,
for
some reason almost awed by the powerful presence of this woman.

"I am Kate Wisdom. H. Kate Wisdom. Giles is . . . uhm . . . his mother knew
me
well . . . and, I would guess you would call him my God-son. "

"And you're here because . . . ? " The Slayer was totally unaware that her
hand
rested possessively on Giles' arm.

Noting that fact, the woman smiled warmly and stepped in, closing the glass
door slightly, increasing their privacy. "I was here in San Francisco
on business," she said quietly. "Rupert and I share a talent, one with which
you
are familiar. Rupert is a powerful mage. I am as well. He has neglected that
aspect of himself since Eyghon, through guilt and fear. But when he was
attacked by magical forces, the violence erupted all over the astral plane.
I
knew he was badly injured. I also knew that the forces that hurt him are
still
loose. So, I was Called to him. Rupert is bound to me, Elizabeth. I was his
initiator into the occult tradition we share. I am here to help you protect
him."

She glanced at Giles, sadness hovering deep in her eyes. "Perhaps I can
help you heal him," she whispered.

Buffy looked up into the tawny eyes. Kate Wisdom smiled at her gently. "You
can tell your friends I am his Aunt Kate. You should call me Aunt Kate as
well. Is
this acceptable?"

"Yes. Will you stay at Giles' apartment?" Buffy considered the fact that
Willow
and Xander had gone after Spike last night to see if they could pry loose
some
information out of the tamed vampire. Spike was probably sacked in Giles'
cellar and Buffy wondered how they could explain the vampire's presence
under her
Watcher's roof. She pushed aside the emotion that naggingly declared,
"mine."

Kate shook her head. "I have made arrangements for my office to rent me
accommodations in the same complex. I require privacy and you will want to
stay with him, will you not?"

"Uh . . . " Buffy swallowed hard. This older woman was confusing. She
assumed
and accepted things Buffy's mother would probably have freaked over.
Something that had been niggling at her mind was the knowledge of how her
mother would have reacted when she told her she was withdrawing from school
to care for Giles. Withdrawing from school and moving into his apartment.
Not a good place to go right how. Bad visuals.

"I'll help you. . . " Buffy shook her head. Was she hearing things? Had Kate
Wisdom spoken? Answered a problem Buffy had not expressed? She drew a deep
breath.

Giles moaned. Buffy spun around, the older woman forgotten. Her Watcher
thrashed in the bed, coming out of anesthesia hard. Kate leaned over and
pressed the call button as Buffy stroked Giles face. "Shhhhhh, Giles," she
whispered to him. "I'm here. You're not alone. Hush."

By the time the nurse got there, Giles had quieted and was clinging to
Buffy's
hand.

"Will you both step out so that I can change his dressings and remove some
odds and ends?"

Kate moved to the door and stepped beyond the glass. Buffy loosened her grip
on
Giles hand and tried to follow. Her Watcher moaned and began twisting
violently again. Buffy stroked his face. "Giles, it's okay." He quieted.
When she tried to leave again, Giles moaned and tried to sit up.

"Perhaps you'd better stay, Ms. Summers. Hold his hand. He is quiet when he
is
touching you."

Buffy turned her eyes away from where the nurse was lifting the sheet to
expose
her work area and gently closed her fingers around Giles'. She glanced at
his
face. His eyes were open, staring at her. The Slayer reached out and drew
her
finger gently over the unbruised portion of his lip. "Hey, Giles," she
whispered, her face lighting with relief and another feeling, something that
Buffy feared to examine too closely.

The Watcher noticed the light shiver across her face and closed his eyes,
hiding
the bleak statement there. He swallowed. His fingers tightened convulsively
on
Buffy's. "Oh, God," he hissed as the nurse cut away some dressings on his
leg.
She applied clean gauze and wrapped it in place.

"Mr. Giles, I am going to remove some packing now," she explained. "Do you
want Ms. Summers to leave?"

He swallowed again. "Nnnuhhh . . ." Couldn't quite get the word out. He ran
a
dry tongue over his lips. No, he mouthed.

Buffy dropped the side rail and moved closer to him. She didn't want to know
what the nurse was doing under the sheet. Giles winced and stiffened.
From the corner of her eye, Buffy saw yards of bloody material splat in a
plastic tub. Her stomach churned. "Press the button on your wrist-band, Mr.
Giles," the nurse instructed.

"It's a morphine pump, isn't it Ms. Kettering?" Buffy gabbled, trying to
distract herself and him as well. She held Giles' free hand and placed it on
the
band. "Here, Giles."

The nurse nodded as Buffy gently pushed the button and the metered dose of
narcotic eased into her Watcher's IV line. Buffy studied him as the drug hit
him. Giles' eyes grew glassy and lost focus. He reached up with his free
hand
and stroked Buffy's face. His lips moved. Buffy didn't understand the first
word, but the second one was 'you.'

Out in the hallway Kate Wisdom watched and waited. As Giles attempted to
speak to Buffy, Kate's face lit with a gentle smile and she nodded.

*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*

Several Days later:

"Rupert, you cannot go home to an empty apartment. There is no alternative."
Kate Wisdom frowned at him and folded her arms across her chest in a gesture
so like his own that Giles glared at her. Kate sighed and confronted him
with
reality. "You need care. I can provide some of it, my dear, but you'll need
more
than I can do for you."

Buffy shifted where she sat on the edge of his mattress, "It's a done deal,
Giles. Xander put the screens up in the living room, you have a bed there, I
'll
stay in the loft. I'll be there for you."

"You have school." He chopped the words.

"I will be there for you," Buffy repeated, looking up at Kate, then glancing
down to touch Giles hand. "You don't have a choice in this, Giles. I am
going to
be with you until you are well enough to care for yourself. I am your
Slayer,
you are My Watcher. And, whether of not you like it, I will take care of
you.
Aunt Kate will help."

Giles looked up quickly, catching the determined face Buffy was presenting
to
him. It resembled Willow's Resolve Face and he'd never had any luck chivying
around that. He looked over at Kate Wisdom. She offered no help at all.
Christ, he thought, how am I going to deal with this? He knew what his
attackers had done to him, exactly what they had done to him. His image of
himself: oh right,
bloody died, it had. Christ! Even the Eyghon, Phillip Randall's death and
Ethan hadn't destroyed his self-respect like this. A sense of emptiness
lived where once his sexuality had resided. Giles shifted, feeling the ache,
knowing how broken he was, not simply physically, but psychologically as
well. Buffy shouldn't have to face this. He, himself, bloody well couldn't
face it.

"A visiting nurse is going to come twice a day to deal with the things you
won't
let me deal with." Buffy glared at him. "I am sensitive to that Giles. But,
all
our years together . . . you've cared for me. I need this, Rupert Giles. It'
s
within my power to give you something from my heart. You're damn well going
to accept it."
Kate smiled at Buffy, trailing her fingers in the girl's hair. Her eyes,
Goddess, he had fogotten the power of Kate's gaze. It sliced through his
soul, exploring, knowing. Kate wanted Buffy with him. Giles glared at both
of them, recognizing this as a battle he couldn't win. Buffy and Kate took
him home. His Slayer moved into his home and into his life, full-time.

Several days later:

A groan shattered the darkness. Buffy shot upright in a tangle of covers.
The
sound of sobbing. Buffy crept from the warmth of Giles bed and quietly
slipped
down the stairs. Giles lay on his back, his face wet with tears. Was he
asleep?
He didn't looked too distressed, other than the tears. Pain perhaps?

Shivering, she sat on the floor at the side of his bed and quietly folded
her
arms around her knees, waiting. Giles breathed quietly. But the sound of
sobbing swelled again. It pulsed on her forehead, at a point midway between
her eyebrows, the deep racking sobs of a man torn apart, on the verge of
utter despair. But Buffy saw only the tears trickling down his face.

He's a magician, Elizabeth. Aunt Kate's voice whispered quietly in the
shadows.
He's a magician who is quite psychic, though he has fought it for years.
Touch
him. Buffy looked around quickly. The shadows were empty. But the voice had
been so real.

Buffy tentatively reached out and lay one finger against Giles shoulder. The
feel of him, soft skin, heat . . . brought shivery warmth to her flesh, but
with
his warmth came a deep welling pain flooding her soul. It traveled up her
arm,
and with vampire-like fangs, began feeding on her heart. Her spirit shivered
with the ice of it. Oh God, how can he endure this?

He needs someone to share it.

Aunt Kate? Buffy mouthed. Are you there? The Slayer searched the shadows.
Where?

The sound of the mantel clock ticking faded as the pendulum stilled, the
digital
clock next to Giles bed ceased humming, and time seemed to stop. "Can you
share it with him, Elizabeth? Can you give him back himself?"

Buffy looked up at the glowing figure who suddenly stood before her. "Aunt
Kate?"

"Yes, that is one of my names."

A sense of inpenetrable awe flooded Buffy and she scrambled to her feet.
"Who
are you, really?" stuttered the girl.

"One face of Being," Kate whispered. "The Face that knows Rupert and knew
his
Mother."

Buffy sagged forward, as if to kneel.

"No!" Kate's hands caught her. "I am the human Face, Daughter of the Night,
the way that Being manifests in this world."

"Why are you here?" Buffy looked around, confused by the pain strangling her
even though her physical connection with Giles had been severed when she
stood.

Hot tears rose in her eyes. Buffy looked up into the older woman's midnight
eyes. Galaxies rose and fell in the flickering light in them. The Was, the
Is
and the Will Be lived in Her eyes.

Buffy shook herself and grabbed a hold of the pain. Aunt Kate had asked a
question. Could she share Giles pain? Give him back himself? She glanced
down at herself. She wore one of Giles' worn tee shirts. It felt like him.
Smelled like
him. Gave her comfort. Helped her endure the hurt that spilled into her soul
from his. "Oh, God, I want to," Buffy whimpered. "I want to be able to share
this with him. Help me, Aunt Kate."

"For him, for you. He needs you, now more than ever before, and you need
him. It is your fate to heal him, Elizabeth." Kate stepped forward and
became a halo of light. "You are his Slayer, Dweller in the Darkness,
Daughter of the Night. Fate, in its fine irony and balance, has decreed you
shall give life to the Watcher." The light touched Buffy's cheek a flowing
amber ripple carrying the words of Kate's promise to the Slayer's heart.
"You won't remember this in a few moments, you will remember me only as Aunt
Kate, but you will Know Rupert, his emotions and needs."

Buffy's eyes closed and the light caressed her forehead, poured into her
spirit,
then faded.

*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*

Buffy yawned and turned over in bed. Dark. Cool. A sound in the night. The
scent of Giles in the bed clothes. The sound again. A sob. But not carried
on the air, throbbing deep inside her. Buffy tugged on the tee shirt she
wore and staggered down the stairs from Giles loft and over to where her
Watcher sprawled amidst the blankets on his double bed in a restless drugged
sleep. Moonlight filtered through the drapes, frosting his elastic features
into a masque. Nothing moved, but the silent sobbing continued. It tugged on
Buffy's heart.

It was chilling cold here in the living area. Buffy bent to pull the blanket
up
around Giles's body. He shivered uncontrollably. Body heat would help him,
she
thought, sensing the emptiness in his dreams. She slipped under the blankets
and snuggled up to him, careful to not hurt him. Still locked in drugged
sleep,
Giles turned to her and pressed his face against the softness of her
breasts,
nuzzling against her tight nipple.

A jolt of something shot from her belly to her groin. Oh God, she thought.
How
can I be feeling this. He's injured and I'm . . . damn!! Fiercely,
protectively,
she kissed the top of his head where it nestled against her and softly
stroked
his hair, snuggling him against her willing softness. He sighed and pressed
his
mouth to her flesh.

When did I begin to love him like this, care so terribly much, she wondered,
her fingers slipping through the tumble of silky curls at his neck. The heat
of his breath warmed her breasts and his five o'clock shadow scratched her
through the thin tee shirt. Buffy felt need clench her belly and then hot
tears scalding her cheeks.

Giles arms slipped around her and in his sleep he sobbed. Buffy, her heart
breaking, held him tight against her body and tried to stifle the sobs that
shook her as his pain rolled through her.

Kate Wisdom stood in the shadows, watching the Slayer and her Watcher. Night
moved deep in her eyes. Night trembled around her and the shadow of a black
bitch crouched at her ankles. Kate raised her hands and cupped them before
her
breast. A soft dream-laden wind trickled between her fingers, caressing
Buffy's
tear-soaked cheek and Gile's sleep-drugged face.

Eyes feathering shut with sleep, the Slayer sank into the bedclothes, Giles
cuddled closer and Buffy's arms curved around him. Their breath
mingled as the dream took them away . . .

#

"How did we get here?" Buffy asked Giles. Redwoods rose around them, their
tall
trunks like straight shots to heaven.

Giles looked confused for a moment. Off to the east, dawn pushed the night
shadows across their path, tossing streamers of rose and gold against the
trunks
of the trees and against the clouds. The Watcher turned to Buffy, entranced
as the rising sun defined her features and gilded her hair.

"Did we lose the others?" Buffy asked him, looking behind her for something
she sensed following them.

"Bugger the others! Let them stay lost for the moment." Giles dragged her
off the pathway, into a glen of rustling ferns and bay. The earthy scent
coiled deep, fanning the flames lit so short a time ago in the pre-dawn
grey.

Buffy reached up, slipping her arms around his neck. "I can't believe we're
doing this," she whispered. "Do you think we've been manipulated here? Who
do you suppose won Xander's betting pool?"

"You don't dare a Watcher," Giles said quietly, "especially one who has been
in
love with his Slayer for far to long, thinking it was most unrequited."

"Oh God, Giles." Buffy kissed him passionately, her lips catching at his,
nipping and tasting. They sank together into the ferns.

Giles drew her to his chest. "Sssh, luv." His fingers wandered through her
tousled curls. "Look at me."

She fixed her gaze on the jade-green eyes that studied her face. "I want
you,"
he whispered, untying the ribbon that held the neck of her blouse. "I want
your
body, I want to make love with you. But more than joining my body to your
body, I want my soul to touch your soul." Want you, want you to crawl into
my heart, all of you. Buffy, lover, worship you.

Need you, God how I need you, Giles. Friend, confidante, dearest Love. Mine.
"Mmmmmm," Buffy pressed her face into the curve of Gile's neck. "Touch,
please."


Suddenly naked in the forest glen, they moved together. Giles held her, his
fierce gaze anchoring her loving look to him. She allowed her face to show
the tumult of emotions rushing through her as his body slipped deep within
her, gifting her with the heat of him, the strength of him-the need, the
want of him. And then she felt another touch, one far more intimate, and a
great stillness fell over them. Thought touched thought, soul touched soul
and fled the clay of them that had joined and rested now in the new light of
the forest glen. Spiraling high, their soul light formed a great white bird,
glowing in the rising sun. Rose and gold tipped their feathers and the heat
burned fiercely in their breast. The bird rose screaming, trailing ropes of
fire, flying straight into the heart of the dawn, transmuted into a burst of
ecstasy in the Light.

When Buffy woke, shivering and thrumming with the aftermath of orgasm, a
pre-dawn velvet grey edged the drapery. Giles trembled in her arms, his face
still pressed into the valley between her breasts. Dream-hung cobwebs of
memory spun into her awareness. Bright, bursting passion warmed her belly
and fanned the fires in her spirit. Love-sated, Buffy stared down at her
Watcher, studying his tousled head, feeling his warm hand clutching her hip.
Morning's stillness brought a clarity of understanding. In the new light of
the rising sun, the nature of her love for Rupert Giles became so very
clear. The Slayer pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Do I go, or stay and allow him to find me holding him, she asked herself. He
is
so afraid. This is his sexual identity that has been so brutally
compromised,
she reminded herself. Rape, vicious, cruel and crude. Horrible. Humiliating.
Her running away, distancing herself, wouldn't help him, she decided and
sank back
into the warmth of his bed. Giles would simply have to deal with her
sleeping
with him. He needed her arms in the depths of night. And, whether he could
admit it or not, Giles needed her love. Buffy closed her eyes.

*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*

The sun was fully risen when she woke to find him staring at her. He opened
his
mouth and the Slayer could feel his fear rising, covering itself with anger.
She
covered his mouth with her fingers. "Shhh. You had a nightmare. I came to
hold
you through the dream and I stayed. Deal with it, Giles."

She slid from beneath the covers. "Do you want some tea?" she asked.

Giles rubbed his face and ran distracted fingers through his hair. "Erhm?"
He
looked up at her standing beside the bed wearing one of his black tee shirts
and
a pair of his black silk boxers and quickly ducked his head as he flushed.
He
glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Buffy wanted him to know that she
wore his clothing in perfect comfort, relishing the touch of the fabric on
her
body. She let this deeply sensual feeling of comfort slip into her thoughts.

Giles looked at her again, his green eyes wide with a startled reaction. An
embarrassed, very Gilesian, shy satisfaction caressed her thoughts.

"Tea, Giles," she said with a small grin. "Would you like some tea?"

"Er, . . " he shook himself, "Yes. I would . . . and a bit of toast?" He
struggled with his composure, took a deep breath and slowly slid to the edge
of
the bed. "Robe, Buffy. Do I have a robe down here? I need to . . . ah . . .
"

Buffy decided not to let him dissolve into a heap of embarrassed Watcher.
She
handed him his terry cloth robe and turned her back while he put it on. "Do
you
need some help to get there, Giles?"

She heard his sigh. "Walk with me. My legs aren't quite up to par."

"Of course."

He managed quite well, she thought. Slow but steady on his feet. "I'll just
wait
until you are finished and walk you back. Then tea. Okay?"

"I need some time. I'll call you, I promise," he said, his voice soft. "Go
make
breakfast." Giles carefully closed the door behind him.

When he heard her step move away from the bathroom door, Giles leaned
against the door frame and swallowed hard. The robe fell to the floor and
Rupert Giles stared into the full length mirror. In the five days since the
attack, there had been a great deal of healing in his flesh. What remained
was the worst of the
injuries. The deep laceration in his rectum healed only slowly. The visiting
nurse commented favorably on how well he was progressing. Giles cringed. His
attackers hadn't cared what their brutal use of him would do to his body.
And
the worst of it was, they hadn't attacked him with their bodies. They had
torn
at him with cold metal implements until he screamed in pain, humiliation and
terror, and bled his life's blood all over the stones he lay on.

When they had sufficiently ravaged his anal area, harsh hands with claw-like
nails had grabbed him and flipped him. Two male demons in full game face
stared down at him, smirking mouths reddened with the blood seeping from
him.

The female had dropped to her knees and lifted his shirt, exposing his penis
to
the night. "Pretty," she had growled, tangling her claws in his pubic hair.
The largest male vamp hissed, "Do it, Jezmin! Just drain him slow. We want
him dead, and messed up bad, but the more you savage him before you kill
him, the madder the Slayer will be. She'll get careless then."

The hands that held him had tightened more mercilessly and his captor yanked
on the heavy chain that bound his arms, increasing his terror and
helplessness.
In horrid fascination he had watched the one called Jezmin open her lips,
fangs
prominent, and engulf his flaccid penis. Those fangs had torn his flesh. The
deep slashes pulsed agony and she lapped at them and at him, sucking on his
sex, licking and caressing as her tongue sought the blood his body gave up
to her instead of semen.

"Fuck, you don't have to enjoy it, bitch." The large male clipped the female
's
head, forcing her fangs deeper into Gile's groin.

A loud metallic squeak scraped the night air, coming from the door at the
illuminated end of the alley. The sound of music and drunken voices spilled
out.

A gang of bikers staggered out the door. One of them spotted Giles splayed
on
the cement, the three vampires hovering over him. "Christ," one roared, "wha
da fuck is going on?" A mass of huge males in leather poured out the door in
response to the yell.

Jezmin's cold tongue tickled at the underside of his penis one last time and
she
released him with a final nip at his glans, leaving four small punctures
there.

Giles vomited hard, spewing his pain, rage and anguish onto the earth.

"Shit, Jez," growled a male, looking at the wave of humanity roaring toward
them, "Let's get outta here."

A young woman in a tight leather jacket bent over him. "Oh Jesus!" she
whispered. "Let me call for help." She pulled out a cell phone and dialed.

Why didn't they kill me? He remembered cringing against the brutally cold
cement, wishing for death to take him, hoping against hope that he would
bleed
out before the ambulance arrived.

In his bathroom, Giles shivered, the memory washing over him, leaving a
sewer
stench in his soul. He stared at the lacerations lacing his penis and at the
gouges and tears from her brutalization of his scrotal sac. Choking tears
moved
higher in his soul, hanging on the edge of eruption. Giles shook himself and
swallowed hard, pushing down the gorge that threatened to throw him to his
knees spewing into the toilet bowl. He turned on the cold water and splashed
his face.

Control, he reminded himself. If she heard him vomiting, his Slayer would be
in here in an instant. Buffy did not need to know the depth of his trauma.

He had felt the touch of her thoughts. Knew what had happened. That bonding
between them had grown more intense since his injury. He thought of Kate
Wisdom and was certain that the deepening bond had had encouragement. Now
when Buffy was near enough she could read him like a book. No matter where
he was, or where she was now, they would always know that the other lived.
Giles moved to the toilet and emptied his bladder, reciting second
conjugation Latin verbs in his head and chewing his lip to silence the sound
of his pain.

Fifteen minutes later Buffy brought Giles a tray of tea and toast. She
settled
it over his lap and went back to retrieve her coffee. She climbed back into
his
bed, and wiggled across to crowd his personal space. Giles leaned back
against
the headboard and closed his eyes, sipping the tea. Buffy put her coffee on
the
bedside table and settled into Giles pillow, closing her eyes, letting the
delicious scent of his warm body roll over her, silently listening to the
new
sense she had discovered in last night's shadows. The pounding of his heart
echoed in hers, and a keen pain and yearning centered itself in the middle
of
his chest. The edge of it cut at her like a sharp blade. She felt Giles'
sigh
bubble up before she heard it. Damn. If she could read his feelings like
this,
could he read hers? Buffy opened her eyes and looked up, straight into fear
and longing in his unmasked eyes, and knew her own gaze to be equally as
naked.

"Don't, Buffy," Giles murmured, putting his cup on the tray.

Buffy shivered. "Giles, I-"

"Hush." His fingers touched her lips, silencing her. "Not now. Perhaps
never."
His smile was sad.

The Slayer sat up and stared into her Watcher's eyes. <> she
thought at him, acquiescing. But unable to stop herself, she leaned forward
and
kissed him. His startled gasp seemed to stop time. She kissed him again and,
for
a timeless moment, his mouth molded itself to hers. Then he shifted,
breaking
the contact.

"Please," he sighed, "Don't do this, Buffy." He closed his eyes.

Buffy fled into the kitchen.

*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*

Several Days later:

Willow handed Giles a large jar. It contained a green, leafy substance.
"Does
Buffy know how to use your tea ball?" she asked him.

Giles glanced over at his roommate. Buffy lounged on the couch, her bare
feet
hung over its high back. They had both withdrawn to a 'safe place,' ignoring
the
desperate tension that had nearly destroyed them the first couple of days
they
had been together. Though she continued to sleep with him, comforting him
when the night terrors struck, her response to his pain had become almost
maternal.

Sometimes he almost felt like she shared his dreams and devoutly hoped that
was not true. The thought of her knowing all that was done to him shattered
his
composure on a level he was not ready to deal with. He wanted to push her
away to a safe distance, one where his anguish couldn't hurt her.

But, Buffy looked so adorable slouched on the sofa, her head hanging upside
down, blond hair spread out on the floor. She stared at him, a half smile
curled her lips. He couldn't send her away. She knew it and he knew it too.
Giles nodded his head toward his Slayer. "She says that is Yoga."

"No Yoga I ever studied." Willow smirked at her upside down friend and Buffy
stuck her tongue out.

Giles grimaced, shaking his head, then smiled at Willow. "I've taught her to
use
the tea ball, yes," he told the witch. "What is in the tea?"

Willow grinned and wrinkled her nose. "A little of this and a bit of that."
In
response to his glare she switched to another tack: "Would you believe
Pennyroyal, lavender, mint, a touch of sage and pinebark. It's a healing
tea."

Giles smiled. "And I'm certain the gift contains the essence of its maker. I
look forward to drinking it." He put the jar down and patted the bed next to
him. Willow sat.

Buffy wound herself upright from her upside down position and sprawled on
the
sofa. "Is Dawn being a pain for you and Tara?" she asked.

"Dawn is a darling. Couldn't ever be trouble. She and Anya and Tara have the
shop completely in order. Dawnie loves it there . . . she's exploring, I
mean, she's learning. Uh, anyway, we've got Dawn coming over after school.
Anya has her inventorying the new deliveries." Willow clapped her hands over
her mouth and giggled.

Giles and Buffy waited patiently until her laughter calmed. "And. . . I hear
an
'and' here, Wills."

"We got a shipment of crystals." Willow looked at Giles, "the small ones
that
come in bulk."

Giles nodded.

"Anya has Dawn so programmed that she counted every one of them and assigned
it an inventory number. Every shard of crystal has a white tag on it,
precisely printed . . . " Willow fell over giggling again.

Buffy looked at the little witch, mystified, feeling sorry for Dawn. Then
she
looked at Giles. He had fallen back into his pillows, and his body shook
with
laughter. A sense of warmth bubbled up in Buffy and she began giggling too.
She
crawled over to his bed and laid her head by his hand, pressing her face
into
the bedclothes as her giggles turned into tears of joy. He smelled
different,
suddenly. The musky, male scent that she had come to know as his natural
pheromone had returned. It rolled over Buffy in a wave and she gasped,
digging
her fingers into the duvet. His scent made her a little giddy. Her fingers
crept
to clasp his hand, and twined with his. Giles bent over and kissed her bowed
head.

Giles felt the tears coursing through Buffy and stroked her hair while she
sobbed. He knew they were tears of joy, celebrating his laughter. The
emotions
his new empathic sense perceived in her amazed him. When he looked up his
eyes met Willow's. He shook his head as Willow opened her mouth to speak.
Willow bent over and kissed him, waving wordlessly as she headed for the
door.

"See you later," she mouthed. Giles nodded.

As the door closed behind the witch, he drew Buffy up onto the bed and
wrapped
his arms around her. "I love you, Giles," she sobbed against his chest. "I
can't
stand what they did to you. Your fear hurts me."

"Hush, luv," he whispered against her hair.

Now, here she was in his arms. A terror stalked Giles, a terror that he
stuffed
down and hid so as not to inflict it on her. That terror smirked and growled
that he would never again function as a man, would never be able to show her
with his body how he worshipped her, needed her, wanted to pleasure her,
craved her body/mind/soul. His arms embraced her convulsively, pressing her
face into his chest, against his pounding heart. His hand stroked her, long
smooth strokes beginning at her head and sinuously slipping over her neck
and shoulders and back to her buttocks. His mind knew intense pleasure in
the feel of her flesh under his fingers. His soul shivered against her soul,
knowing her love, her need. Guilt rose, but selfishly he pushed it down and
enjoyed holding the woman he adored.

Despite his longing and passion for his Slayer, Giles body lay quiescent,
unaroused at the touch of skin that two weeks ago would have provided him
with a raging hard-on that even an ice-cold shower would not have relieved.
*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*

"Hey, Aunt Kate. Good morning."

"Good morning to you Miss Elizabeth Summers." Kate Wisdom's face crinkled
into laugh lines and glowing skin. "Are you serving breakfast?"

"I'm certainly trying to get your "nephew' to eat," Buffy grumbled.

Kate stuck her head around the corner to view Giles. The Watcher lay in his
bed, arm thrown across his face. She noticed the second set of pillows and
the
blankets rolled back on the off side of the bed.

Buffy looked up from the stove as Kate walked into the kitchen and leaned
against the counter. "Are you sleeping with him?"

Bacon spat as Buffy turned it over. She lowered her eyes and blushed. "Yes,"
she said quietly.

"Ah, Elizabeth." Kate's voice warmed. "I'm not the Council to tell you what
the
relationship between Slayer and Watcher should be. Nor am I judging you.
Slayers and their Watchers share so much pain, why not their love then?"

"I know you don't judge." Buffy spread some paper towels on a plate and
proceeded to lay the bacon strips there to drain and cool. She broke three
eggs into the pan and watched the clear fluid solidify into egg white. The
toaster popped. "Could you get the toast, Aunt Kate. Giles likes strawberry
preserves on his toast."

"Really. He used to love orange marmalade." Kate grabbed the toast and the
strawberry preserves and spread the thick jam on the bread. She cut it and
put
it on the bread plate. "Here it is."

Buffy scooped the sunny side up eggs onto the plate, added the bacon and
placed
the teapot on the tray. "Be right back. I'll fix ours next."

Giles fell back to sleep after eating breakfast with the two women. Kate and
Buffy retired to the kitchen to clean up. "Elizabeth, do you love him," Kate
Wisdom asked softly as she dried the last of the silverware and handed it to
Buffy.

Buffy raised eyes to stare at Kate, eyes drenched with pain and need. Tears
spilled over the dam of her lashes. "Yes."

"Can you heal him?"

"Oh, Aunt Kate, I'll try."

"Elizabeth, the key is do. Can you do, give all of yourself to his healing?"

"Yes." Buffy bent her head and covered her tear-streaked face with her
hands.
"But, I don't know how."

"Let love lead you." Kate pulled the girl into a close embrace. "If you love
him, you can heal him. There is a strong magic between Watcher and Slayer
that happens sometimes. You have it, you and he. You can share your Slayer's
healing with him if you give it to him with your love."

Buffy remembered those words in the darkness several nights later. Giles lay
on
his side, turned away from her. The visiting nurse had removed the last of
his
dressings. His wounds were now exposed to the air, most fairly well healed.
The
physical wounds, she reminded herself silently. Worrisome, the extent of the
violence done to him, but more worrisome the psychological pain. Giles'
silence
increased as the days passed, becoming almost a sullen sulking. Buffy was at
a
loss as to what to do to break the cycle, though she thought she understood
what
was happening to him.

She tied her tennis shoes and tucked a stake down the front of her top. Aunt
Kate waited outside. She had asked to go with Buffy on patrol tonight and,
though she tried, Buffy had not been able to say no to H. Kate Wisdom. Each
time the Slayer began to think about what an awful idea it was to have an
old lady
going out to patrol with her, her mind skittered away from that thought like
water spilled on an oily surface.

She drew Giles' sword and scabbard over her shoulders and sighed. "I'll be
back,
Giles. I'm going to patrol."

"I'll be fine," he said quietly, his voice flat. "You don't need to return.
Go
home and get a good nights sleep."

"Giles, I want to come back."

"Damn, Buffy, can't you bloody well leave me alone!" The words and the rage
in
his voice felt like a punch to her chest.

She stood silently watching the shaking back he presented to her. The
trembling
didn't slow. Pain and anger simmered in her gut. What was it about men and
her? Her voice sharp, she yelled back, "No, I can't bloody well leave you
alone,
Giles. I need to be here with you. You're my Watcher, damn you. You need me,
too."

Buffy stormed out the door, slamming it behind her, and joined Kate Wisdom.
Kate looked over her shoulder as the two women walked toward Giles' car. Her
expression was an interesting combination of pain and an intense curiosity.

Thirty minutes later Buffy met the first vampire of the night. A young one.
Staking him was no challenge for a Slayer who had survived eight years on
the
mouth of Hell. But something niggled . . . a pesty voice telling Buffy that
all
was not so calm as it appeared this night. As she and Kate wandered among
the
stones, a white-haired vampire bolted from behind a mausoleum. A great coat
flapped around his ankles and three large and vicious blue demons pursued
him.

Buffy drew Giles sword from the scabbard on her back, motioning Aunt Kate
behind her. Kate stood quietly watching as Spike dashed toward them.

"Buffy, run!" he howled. "There are seven of them."

"No way!!" The Slayer brought the sword to ready as Spike slid up to them.
She really needed something to kill, and here it was.

"Bloody hell," growled the vampire, spinning to face the charging demons and
drawing a long-bladed knife from his waist. "If I wasn't already dead you'd
get
me killed."

Kate reached into a pocket and pulled out what at first appeared to be a
beam of
light. Buffy glanced at it quickly and noted that it must have been the
streetlights glancing off the short sword she now held. "Three against
seven,"
Kate said. "Not bad odds."

"Oh Christ," gabbled Spike, his cockney accent thickening. "'ow'd I get me
tied
up wi' two suicidal bitches and one of 'em old enough to be me Gram."

Kate laughed and raised her blade. "Come on, Fang-Boy!" she cried. "Show
your
stuff."

"Damn me." Spike shot her a vicious grin, which she returned. Then he
groaned
and struck out with his knife as the first of the creatures reached them.

Thirty minutes later Spike paused before he dragged the last of the demon
bodies off into the darkness to some un-named place of disposal. "Aunt
Kate," he
growled, "you are some ferocious dame."

"Why thank you, Spike-dear." Kate slid the blade she had used into the
voluminous pocket in her black pants. Neither Buffy nor Spike questioned
that it disappeared smoothly and left no tell-tale outline.

Buffy wiped some blood from her arm and glanced up at the vampire. "Spike, I
don't know why you're still here, or why you are still helping us . . . but
thanks."

The vampire growled under his breath and yanked at the demon carcass.
"Later," he grumbled. "Must take out the garbage." He and his burden faded
into the shadows. Buffy glanced over at Aunt Kate and found the older woman
staring after Spike.

"Aunt Kate."

"Yes, Elizabeth."

"Time to go home. Giles has been alone too long. He gets strange when he has
the time to think too much."

Kate Wisdom glanced at the Slayer. "And you keep him from getting . . .
'Strange'?"

A sharp laugh chopped the night air as Buffy reacted. "I make him mad. That
focuses him on something other than feeling sorry for himself."

"Think about why he may be acting as he is, Elizabeth." Kate put her arm
around the girl's shoulder and the two of them headed off for Giles' complex.

*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*


After leaving Kate at the door to her apartment, Buffy quietly opened Giles'
door. She held the knob so that it closed soundlessly. She slipped her
tennis
shoes off, placing them on the mat by the door and moved into the deep
shadows.
A sound carried on the stillness, a stifled moan. Buffy stopped, standing in
absolute stillness. Was that Giles' ragged breathing? Her instinct was to
jump
to his side, but something, almost like a hand on her shoulder held her back
and
a voice formed in her thoughts, "wait, Elizabeth, and listen with your
heart."
Buffy sank into the shadows, and slipped nearer to Giles bed. She stood in
the
dark behind the back of the couch and opened her Slayer senses to her
Watcher.
A pulsing pain beat in her chest and a thick sense of congestion and need
gathered in her groin. The sharp tug of recently healed hurts shadowed the
need.
Buffy covered her mouth with her hands and bit her lip to stop the tears
that wanted to burst from within. Giles' fear and frustration pounded at
her, like her pulse after a long hard run.

She knew he was touching himself, trying to relieve the sexual tension that
had
built in the weeks since the incident in the alley. And the fear, the fear.
Its
name was terror and it rose because his body wasn't responding to caresses
that
a few weeks ago would have brought him to incredible orgasm. Terror walked
in
his heart and soul, laughing and howling at him that he could no longer
function as a man. The broken sobbing told her depth of his soul-pain and
the extent to
which his body had betrayed him.

Buffy stood quietly and dropped her shorts and her top to the floor, her
need to
be close, to heal overwhelming her. Panties and bra followed. Naked, she
approached the bed she had shared for weeks with Giles. So wounded and tied
up with his own fear and grief, Giles didn't notice her until the bed
shifted under
her slight weight. Like Venus from the sea, Buffy rose from the fantasies in
his
mind, naked before him.

"Oh Christ," he groaned. "Go away, Buffy."

"No!"

Giles stood quickly and pushed Buffy. She smelled his blood. In the faint
light
from the window she saw the stain on the front of his pajama bottoms and the
dark fluid smearing his fingers and palm. "Get the hell away from me!" He
roared, shoving her.

"Giles! Don't!" Buffy tried to hold him.

"Bloody hell, Slayer. Get the fuck away from me. I don't want you near me!"

Rage welled up within the Slayer, and then something within her opened up
and
she saw Giles' heart and soul, the anguish pulsing like a boil within him.
Saw
an image of herself emotionally labeled "lost." And failure, another
failure,
and this one so intimate and so much who he was, rising like the ocean tide
to
obliterate his peace, rip apart his image of himself. Buffy bolted for the
stairs and flung herself on Giles' bed in the loft. Rage and sorrow boiled
from
within her. Retching sobs shook her body and she buried her face in the soft
Giles-scented pillows.

When she woke the next morning, hearing the shower running, the print of his
bloody fingers remained on her shoulder. She crept down stairs again,
comforting herself by wearing his tee shirt and boxers and quickly removed
the stained sheets from his bed. The stains were **only** blood, and Buffy's
heart broke at the desperation evidenced by the bloodied pajamas and sheets.

Trembling with guilt and pity, she stuffed them into a garbage bag and took
them to the incinerator, cursing and swearing as she walked. By the time she
returned to the apartment, Giles was back in the bed, silent and withdrawn.
"Go home, Buffy," he told her. "I can manage myself now."

Compassion stilled her face into calmness she did not feel. "When you are
strong
enough to throw me out," she told him. "And you can tell me you don't want
me in your home, I'll leave then."

He opened his mouth.

"Uh uh," she said. "Not now. You have to be strong enough to make me leave
and
when you are that strong, then you tell me you don't want me."

"Christ," snarled her Watcher, turning over and presenting his back to her.

"I love you, Giles," she whispered.

"Bloody hell, Buffy. Don't."
# # #

Buffy moved back up to the loft that night. Giles tossed and turned so much
when she snuggled close to him that she knew neither of them would ever
sleep so long as she shared his bed. So she lay up in the night-shadows of
the loft and listened to him weep. Or rather, she listened to the tearing
sobs of his soul, unable to shut out his misery vibrating in her thoughts.
Her teeth clenched as she tried to figure out what to do. She knew
everything lay in her hands. The Scooby Gang knew something was wrong, but
not what. They offered love and support, gifts of themselves for which she
was grateful, but a voice in her heart kept repeating that healing Giles was
her task.

For several nights, she and Kate Wisdom took her patrols through the
cemeteries together, often joined by the worshipful Spike. The fifth night
she picked Kate up in Giles red BMW and they set out.

"You are tired, Elizabeth," Kate observed.

Her eyes pools of despair, Buffy glanced over at the older woman. "I don't
know what to do for him, Aunt Kate. If I sleep in the same bed with him he
tosses and turns and moans. If I sleep in the loft, I can hear him sobbing."
Buffy ducked her head, not wanting to address what she knew was slowly
destroying her Watcher.

"Elizabeth, stop the car."

Buffy pulled the Beemer to the curb and bowed her head over the steering
wheel.

"Look at me, Elizabeth." Aunt Kate's voice whispered in the profound
silence.

The Slayer slowly turned toward her.

Kate's eyes changed into a curious midnight black. Universes spun within
them. Buffy took a deep breath and felt knot after knot of tension releasing
in her shoulders, and in her stomach as well. Her spirit dove into Kate's
eyes, following the parade of galaxies toward a central core where stars
played at being diamonds.

"Elizabeth . . .dream . . .follow. . . " Kate's voice faded as dark mists
rose.

A waterfall tumbled beside Buffy, chuckling at her. Water splashed, grabbing
the fading light to sparkle like crystal. Cool breezes shivered in the
willow leaves, creating peaceful and mellow sighs. Dusk painted the sky with
an iridescent palette. To her right, along the stream-side, a gaggle of
crows settled into an oak tree. A path led off into the forest. Small white
flowers dotted it, winking like tiny lights in the growing darkness. A
slender black bitch bounded toward her, shadow-like. She slid to a stop next
to Buffy, nuzzling her with a cool damp nose. Buffy giggled, dropped to the
soft moss-covered ground and hugged the dog.
After bestowing kisses on Buffy's cheek, the bitch leapt off down the path,
watching the Slayer over her shoulder with what could only be called a come
hither look. She stopped about twenty feet into the darkling wood and barked
sharply.

The bark formed the words, "come with me!" Never questioning this amazing
thing, the Slayer stood and dusted off her shorts. The she-dog's eyes
brightened and her tail waved in acknowledgment. She darted off ahead, the
sound of her claws clicking on the stony path.

The remnants of twilight echoed along the way, kissing the shadows with a
hint of mauve. Like magic, the trees crowded round. They seemed to shuffle
tight to the path, hovering close to Buffy as she walked with quiet
Slayer-stealth.

A song carried on the wind, a chanting. Her "Tickle me" Slayer senses did
not react. And the song drew her on. Buffy moved quietly down the path.
Ahead, firelight flickered against the trunks of trees and the path Buffy
walked split into two. An ancient oak marked a central island on the
pathway, creating a circle of space where a traveler might pause to rest and
direction could be considered. At the center of this space beneath the oak a
black iron cauldron bubbled, and a woman hunched over it, stirring.

The woman looked up. "Welcome, Slayer."

Curious as to what the old woman could be doing in the darkening woods,
Buffy paused and nodded. The bitch came close and clamped the girl's wrist
in her teeth. She tugged.

"Come closer, Slayer. I mean you no harm. I am Hecate, Guardian of the
crossroads, often called Daughter of the Night. Welcome, Slayer, to the
place of choice."

Buffy raised her head and stared into darkling eyes, familiar and amazingly
alive with the light of novas and shimmering stars. The fire illumined
features, ageless and beautiful. Black robes floated on the breeze shivering
in the air. "Hecate, Goddess-one. Giles has told me of you."

"Your Watcher . . . Yes -- dedicated to me at his birth." The Goddess smiled
at Buffy, her eyes merry in the flickering light. Rich amber eyes, like
burnished golden honey. "His family has long been in my care. He is marked."

Hecate gestured and the fire dimmed, smoldering. In the smoke rising from
the burning wood Buffy saw her Watcher's face form. He looked out at her,
the odd amber patch in his left iris vitally bright. She bowed her head and
fell to her knees before Hecate.

"Do get up, Slayer. Come stir the cauldron for me. It is moondark. I tend
the fires during moondark. Persephone the Maid will take the cauldron with
the waxing moon. That is the face you wear, My Elizabeth. You are the Virgin
Huntress, my child."

"I'm no Virgin," muttered Buffy.

"Ah, Virgin/Maid. The Maiden Goddess Diana had many lovers." Hecate grinned
as if remembering something pleasant. "A Woman owned by no man. You are
that, are you not?"

"Yes."

"You wear the Maiden's face, then. Listen to my tale, Slayer, if you wish
Giles healed . . . It is within your power to bring his healing to him."

"I haven't any power, Lady-Goddess." Buffy twisted her hands in the fabric
of her shorts. "Willow has the healing magic. I am simply the destroyer."

Hecate handed the Slayer the long handled spoon. Buffy began to stir. The
cauldron bubbled, flickers of light and a spicy scent rising from it.

"Elizabeth, if you had no power, you would not be the Slayer, the
Maiden-Huntress. You must find your power. Power doesn't leap forth from you
and announce itself. It hides deep within. It is the journey of Persephone,
the Maiden Goddess, to go deep into the unknown. All dies while the Maiden
takes the road into Hel, reforming herself for rebirth in the Mother's Great
Womb. Grieving whilst She waits for her daughter to be reborn, Demeter casts
a pall upon the earth and all life becomes dormant."

The Goddess cupped Buffy's face, staring deep into her eyes. "It is a dark
and dangerous journey. You must enter Hel alone and find what you seek. It
is my gift to be able to cross into Hel, into the mysteries, and accompany
the Maiden's return. When you have found what you seek, I will find you.
Will you take this journey and return with the power to restore your Love?"
The fire beneath the cauldron leapt. Hecate stepped back.

Buffy gnawed at her thumb, pausing her stirring. Emotions she feared rose
and washed over her like waves of cooling water. Her spirit caught at the
peace offered thus. The power to heal Giles . . .

Oh, yes, she wanted to heal Giles. Memories flowed of him tending her wounds
from battle, listening to her hurts, offering his body to her as a
practice-field for mayhem. Giles quietly watching her, caring for her
through the six years he had shared her life. Giles adoring her, his
unspoken love shining in his eyes. Buffy's love for her Watcher flooded in a
blinding tide and her heart cried out in acquiescence to her task. Her teeth
clamped her lip. A trickle of blood dribbled down her chin.

"Come to me, child," whispered the Goddess. "You have made your choice."

The fire held no heat, though the cauldron continued to bubble. Hecate took
the Slayer's hand and wiped Buffy's fingers in her own blood. The Goddess
drew the bloodied hand toward the cauldron lip. "You must place your blood
into the cauldron of Wisdom," she said.

Buffy stared at the red staining her hand. "When does the journey begin?"

"You will know, Child. The journey will come for you. The Maiden walks in
the light of the waxing moon."

The bubbles tickled her flesh. It fizzed, like a cola in a glass. Buffy hung
over the cauldron lip, and lifting her searching gaze to Hecate's face,
plunged her hand into the boiling liquid. Like mellow honey, the liquid
embraced her as she tumbled in.

*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*


Buffy shivered, and gripped the steering wheel. Aunt Kate paused in the act
of sliding out the passenger door. "Coming, Buffy?"

"Are you ready, Slayer?" Spike leaned against the side of the car, smirking
at Buffy who shook her head and fought to orient herself. The dregs of the
astral planes clung to her, like wisps of black chiffon blowing in the
winds.

Kate watched the young woman's eyes brighten and focus again as the mystic
memories slipped deep into her unconscious. "Give me a moment to get Giles'
sword," Buffy muttered. She pulled the blade from between the front buckets
and slung the baldric over her shoulder as she exited the car.

Aunt Kate drew her sword of light from its hiding place. Spike's long-bladed
knife glinted in the cold light of the waning moon that hung on the western
horizon.

Buffy led the way into the cemetery. A hedgerow of junipers clung to the
border of the pathway. In their shadow a dark thing stirred and a hollow
moan echoed loud against the stones. Three lunar-paled beings stopped,
forming a triangle, moving so they covered each others backs. An explosion
of green-blue somethings burst toward them from no where.

"Damn me! Bloody wankers," yelled the vampire. "They're bloody Ai're oosh
demons and they hunt like hyenas."

The demons rose in a wave cresting against the slayer and her companions.
The three fought and a litter of demon-bodies and wounded grew. It began to
look as if they might survive the onslaught. Spike tore into one
particularly persistent creature and Buffy swung her sword and a slit-eyed
head flew into the brush. Demon-numbers dwindled. But a then crafty
youngster whose sense of tactics seemed better than his mates, climbed the
granite angel across from Buffy and leapt. It landed on her, sinking its
hind claws into her abdomen and its teeth into her shoulder. Her cry echoed
in the sudden silence.

Spike's attention focused on the fallen Slayer. The vampire growled, a
rabid-dog sort of sound. The furrows of his game face formed and he tore the
young demon in two with his bare hands. Deep snarls filled the night as
Spike ripped the body into bloody shreds with his fangs. The few remaining
demons stilled watching the vampire's vicious act as though hypnotized.
Spike raised his bloody mouth and showed his fangs, growling at the
remaining predators.

"Spike!" Aunt Kate's voice echoed around the cemetery. "Spike!"

The vampire turned his head, focusing on Kate.

"Buffy, Spike. We need to get her help."

Spike stooped over the fallen Slayer, his growling constant and threatening,
glancing at the surrounding demons.

"The car, Spike. Now. You must!" Kate's fingers moved in the shadows, a line
of green fire zipping toward the snarling demons.

The blond vampire picked up the slender young woman, seeing the blood and
the ragged flesh hanging from her torn shoulder. And a cry emerged from the
vampire's throat that set the granite stones vibrating and threw the
remaining demons into a frenzied panic. He moved toward the gate, a shadow
under the moon, carrying Buffy pressed to his heart, his heart that didn't
beat, but ached in anguish.

The cawing demons and the sound of the vampire's pain lent wings to Aunt
Kate's feet. Spike gently lay Buffy on the back seat and then jumped into
the driver's seat. Kate didn't open the door. She leaped into the back seat.
As she landed next to Buffy, Spike turned the key and the ignition caught.
The Beemer's engine rpm maxed as the vampire left a huge smoking patch of
rubber on the pavement.

"Hospital, Spike." Aunt Kate's voice sounded ragged. Spike fed the car more
gas while behind him Kate Wisdom packed her light sweater against the wound
in Buffy stomach, holding down a bulging loop of the girl's intestines.

As Spike pulled Giles' car into the lot, an orderly noticed the panicky
expression on his face. A nurse and a guerney appeared at the side of the
car and Buffy was lifted onto the sheets tenderly.

Kate Wisdom climbed out of the car and turned to speak to Spike. The blond
vampire's features had relaxed a little, the ridges of his game face fading,
but his hands still clutched the wheel like vise-grips. Kate patted the cool
fingers. "I need you to run an errand, Spike. You'd best go fetch Rupert. I
will ring him up when I get inside." Kate looked down at her wide-legged
pants, noticing splashes of nameless blue goo and rusted blood dotted here
and there. Her lips curved in a strained smile. "No matter how sick he is,
our lives won't be worth living if we don't bring him to his wounded
Slayer."

Spike nodded but didn't look at Kate. "I'll go fetch the Watcher now."

"Good man."

"Right!" Spike grimaced, his eyes still lowered, as if he were protecting
himself from seeing in Kate's eyes how much of himself he had revealed with
his desperate cry in the cemetery.

Kate sighed, her voice a breath on the night winds. "Ah, William, what makes
a man is not warm blood or a pulse throbbing. What makes a man is a willing
heart."

The vampire's eyes brightened noticeably and a strange expression cramped
the full line of his lips. He put the car in gear backed out of the parking
space.

"Hurry, Spike," Aunt Kate called. "He'll be waiting for you."

*^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^* *^|^*


"Bloody hell, aunt Kate. How did you let this happen?" Giles stalked through
the emergency room doors dressed in loose grey sweats and a tee-shirt.
Spike, who had been on the receiving end of the Watcher's artic silence on
the drive to the hospital, slunk in behind Giles, sinking into a chair near
the door, trying to look small.

Rupert's color is atrocious, thought Kate, reaching out to stop his
single-minded lunge toward the desk. "You can't go in there yet, Rupert.
Buffy is in surgery."

Giles stiffened, then ripped off his glasses and spun around, frowning down
at the diminutive woman. "What happened."

"Ai're oosh demons," muttered Spike.

"Oh, God!" Giles lowered himself slowly into the chair near the vampire.

"He had nothing to do with it," grumbled Kate.

Giles sank into himself, covering his face with his hands. "I'm loosing
touch with her. Her energy is fading."

"Are you going after her, Rupert?"

Giles glared at Kate. "I'm not that man who could, Aunt Kate. He died with
Randall."

Kate shook her head. "Nonsense. You still are he, Rupert. He's simply been
hiding. Ripper is afraid."

"Oh, bloody hell, Kate. Don't say that name."

"Ripper?"

Giles shivered and glared at the woman. "Do you delight in torturing me?"

"Soon, Rupert, you will need to take a walk on the Other Road. The only part
of you who can enable you to survive there is Ripper. You need him to be
whole."

The electric door opened and Brian Hollowell exited. He approached them,
carrying a sheaf of papers. "Mr. Giles. Good to see you up and about."

Giles growled. "Doctor. Is there any word on Buffy?"

"Ms. Summers is in surgery. I've had a cot put in her room. I assume you
will insist on staying with her."

"Indeed," muttered Giles. "Is there a phone I can use?"

"Come with me, Mr. Giles. I'll take you to one you can use."

"I need to call Willow and Xander," he told Aunt Kate, avoiding meeting her
eyes.

"Of course."
#

The Shadow-lands grew dark.

No breath breathing - no up, no down. Mists swam and swirled. And heat. Then
the mists parted and Buffy Summers tumbled to a stop a few feet short of a
briar patch. Her legs shook as she rose to her feet--her numb feet--and she
staggered toward the pulsing brightness just proximal to the shrubs.
The light outlined a dark figure, intensifying its dimensions. In the center
of the light a hole opened up and the Slayer felt herself drawn toward it.
"No," she cried, shivering and battling the strong pull. "No! Giles, help
me."

A grey-cloaked shadow bearing a wand appeared beside her. He waved the wand
and black strands shimmered into visibility, strands tied to Buffy and
disappearing into the orfice before them. Strands that tightened and drew
her forward, toward the dark figures guarding the gate.

"Please, No! Giles!" Buffy screamed again.

The grey-cloaked figure raised the wand and touched a strand. It shriveled.
Quickly the mage, for Mage he must be thought the Slayer, touched each
confining strand. They shivered in the energy released by the wand. They
turned to dust and blew away. Warmth attached itself to her back. The Mage
wrapped her in his arms and drew her back into the mists, away from the
Gate.

#

The Watcher opened his eyes, feeling ill from his foray onto the Other Road.
He stared down at his shaking hands. He'd survived the crossing. He'd
answered Buffy's call.

"Most unwise, Rupert, " grumbled Aunt Kate. "She must take that journey."

"But not now, while she is weakest," he mumbled tiredly. "She will be
stronger later."

Kate huffed and then settled next to the Watcher. "Just remember, Rupert,
she must go!"

"Tell me that I don't have to celebrate that fact."

"You don't. And like this time, you may follow. But next time you must not
interfere. She must retrieve the tools of her survival."

Giles shifted in the chair, arranging himself to take the pressure off his
wounds. The wall made a support for the crown of his head. He drifted off
into sleep while they waited.

#

Several days later Giles assisted Buffy from the front seat of his car and
into his apartment. Buffy sank into the bedding behind the screen, clutching
her wound. It still pulled, even though it was healing rapidly.

"Who's patrolling this evening?" she asked.

"Spike and Willow. Tara is staying home with Dawn. They'll be over in the
morning. You, my dear, are going to rest."

"And what are you going to do, Watcher of Mine?" Buffy pulled the covers up
over her, shivering despite the warmth in the apartment.

"Make certain that you rest." Giles peered around the screen as Kate Wisdom
came through the doorway, carrying two grocery sacs. He started to go to her
to help, but Kate waved him away and headed for the kitchen, dropping the
bags and then coming over to inspect Buffy. "Too thin," she pronounced.
Buffy growled. Her Watcher smiled. Kate could tell the girl things he wouldn
't dare to say. Aunt Kate fussed with the pillows behind Buffy and then
stormed into Giles' kitchen like a commando.

Giles slunk over to Buffy's bed and settled on the corner, listening to the
sounds of H. Kate Wisdom dismantling his cupboards and drawers. He and Buffy
sat side by side in silence, listening to the music from Giles' stereo.
Buffy's eyes fluttered, heavy with sleep. Giles yawned. A black hole had
grown inside him, sucking his strength over its event horizon. Reserves
would need to be rebuilt.
And, Buffy, for the first time since the attack, it appeared to him that she
had begun to relax. She sniffed the air and her stomach growled restlessly.

"Hungry?" he asked her. She smiled and nodded.

Eventually wonderful scents began drifting through the serving door and the
sound of crockery and silverware carried to the two occupants of the bed.
Kate carried out a tray with steaming dishes and the three settled down to
do some serious damage to shepherd's pie.

Giles sighed, replete with food that fed memories of his childhood and Aunt
Kate's visits. His body growing slack from his exhaustion, he fell back
against Buffy's pillows. Buffy had already dozed off, her eyelashes casting
soft shadows on her too thin cheeks. I'll just close my eyes for a moment,
Giles told himself.
Kate Wisdom finished the last of the dishes and entered the living area. She
smiled at the two on the bed, Giles curled protectively around Buffy. "Oh,
Children, when will you stop fighting your love. Only when you sleep can you
acknowledge it." She wove her fingers, forming the night shadows into a web
and casting it over the two.
#

The meadow, green and gold in the sun, stretched off to the distant hills. A
clear stream cut it in two. A doe and fawn strolled down to drink, pausing
not five feet from her. Buffy stilled and stared. The two drank their fill
and wandered off.
She lay back in the thick grass. It made a soft bed beneath her. The wind
whispered around her, promising something wonderful. Sleepily she shifted to
watch the crest of the hill. The form of a huge black panther appeared
there, silhouetted against the sky. The Slayer pushed herself up on her arms
and calmly watched as he approached her. How did she know the panther was
he? Why did she not fear him?

The great cat moved closer, green eyes glinting in the light. Buffy stared
at him. Beautiful, she thought. As he came closer she noticed the amber
patch in his left eye. "Giles," she breathed. Air shimmered and Rupert Giles
sank to the ground beside her.

"Buffy, luv," he said. "Is it easier to speak here?"

She nodded. "I can love you here. You can love me."

"And I do, so very much." He touched her lips with gentle fingers. "Must we
speak?"

Buffy shook her head. "Hold me?"

Her Watcher held out his arms, and Buffy crawled into them, pressing herself
against his chest. He pulled her down into the soft grass, making her a
pillow on his chest. She listened to the sound of his heart, knew the warmth
of his body. As the clouds scudded across the sun, breaking the light with
shadow, she found herself clutching black fur and listening to the great cat
purr. Giles eyes stared at her from the panther's face. She burrowed against
him and sighed into his fur, "I love you, no matter what form you use to
come to me."

A rough tongue laved her arm, and then the light shifted, and Giles mouth
nipped and caressed her shoulder.

"Always with me," she whispered.

"Always, luv. Always."

#


Two days had passed and Buffy was itching with energy, but not yet well
enough to take up her duties as Slayer again. The Scoobies had continued
patrolling in her stead.

"You must remember this, Buffy," Giles repeated patiently, watching his
Slayer pout. "This is vital information." Giles pulled his glasses from
his nose and stared down at the duvet on Buffy's bed. "The stuff that
makes up the reality of the Other Road is plastic. You can form and reform
it from your thoughts, your needs, your desires. Do you understand what
that means?"

"I can wish it away and it will go?"

Giles yanked his glasses from his nose and ran his fingers through his hair.
He sighed. "Not quite so basic as that."

"What good is it then?"

"Objects and some beings over there simply have only a subjective reality."

"Which mean?? Giles, tell me in words I can understand."

"It means that if a tree is falling on you, your thoughts, if you can focus
them properly, can mold the Other Road substance expressed as the solid
heavy tree into a water fall or, perhaps, the contents of a box of corn
flakes. Something that won't hurt if it falls on you."

"Oh, so I can't make the thing go away, but I can change how it manifests?"
The Slayer grinned impudently. " Big word . . . manifests."

Giles smiled at her and Buffy dropped her gaze and stared at her fingers,
twisting a silver ring on her thumb. "How about people . . . like you, if I
met you over there . . . could my mind change you into a panther?"

He shot her a startled look--then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of
his nose. "W h. . . ah . . . what makes you ask that?"

"A couple of nights ago I had a dream, but it was more real than a dream.
Do you know what I mean?" She looked at her Watcher from the corner of her
eye.

He nodded.

She picked at a loose thread on the duvet. " I was in a place and a panther
came to me, and I wasn't afraid. I looked into his eyes and knew he was
you. And then the sunlight hit the panther and he was you."

"I know," he said quietly, shifting uncomfortably. "I was there."

Buffy crept over the bed toward Giles, her eyes entreating him. He had no
strength left to fight her. He opened his arms and she crawled into the
safety of his embrace. He stroked her hair and held her against her chest.
"You have to go back there, Buffy. Soon. There is a task you must
accomplish."

"I know. Can you . . ." she twisted a piece of his shirt in her fingers,
"can you come with me?"

"The panther can come with you. He can follow you. He cannot interfere."

"Is that why you showed me the panther?"

"He's a part of me, Buffy. Like Ripper, only he is not nearly so dangerous
under normal circumstances." Giles grimaced. "The panther will act from
instinct and a desire to protect you. Ripper will act from his own
self-interest."

Buffy sighed and snuggled against Giles' sweater, feeling the constant beat
of his heart.

TBC