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Never before in his life had he been so tired.
He was in pain, of course, due to his wounds and the fact that he had largely ignored them for the past twenty-four hours. Other things, other lives, other priorities had taken precedence.
Now there was no point.
Giles stopped in front of the door, the one that led to the home he had just begun to claim as his own. The key froze in his hand scant centimeters from the lock, and he suddenly realized he didn't have the strength it would take to turn his hand. To push open the door and enter the large, comfortable house with its rich tapestry of memories... no, he hadn't the strength for that.
He dropped his hand helplessly, turning to see if anyone was behind him, to encourage him to try again. The early morning street was still and empty. His car was the only one in the driveway. The Jeep was at the Magic Box...
He turned, looking lost, and sat down on the top porch step. It never occurred to him to be afraid of the dark... there was nothing to fear, now. Nothing precious to watch over, not here. The last surviving member of the Summers family was resting uncomfortably in the hospital, with a solicitous Spike at her side.
Just before they went to war, Spike had sworn an oath to his mortal enemy to protect Dawn at all costs, whatever it took, until the end of the world, and to everyone's surprise, the vampire meant every word.
The Saviors of the Universe had dispersed as soon as the ambulances had arrived. Xander rode in stoic silence in Anya's ambulance until they reached the Emergency Room. Willow and Tara, still sobbing helplessly, hitched a ride to the hospital with a kind-hearted policeman. On the way, they dropped Giles off at the shop to pick up his car, but promised to meet him at the hospital to complete the report on Buffy's death. The coroner met them at the morgue, full of questions for the witnesses and the EMTs that brought Buffy's body in. The answers he got from Giles weren't at all satisfactory. The police officers didn't fare much better.
How do you tell this kind of story? How do you tell the investigating officers, "She saved the universe by jumping from an evil hell-god's five-story scaffold into a bloody dimensional portal that would've spelled the end of life as we know it?"
The policemen finally let him go, shaking their heads sadly. 'Poor man,' their faces said. 'He should have gone first, he's so much older... she was so young, with her whole life ahead of her... how sad, how tragic...'
Yes, it bloody well was, wasn't it?
Giles stared into the dark, unseeing; a slumped silhouette in the cold glow of the streetlight. He shivered once, feeling the cold for perhaps the first time since he arrived in Sunnydale.
A shrill, electronic tone caught his attention. He frowned, trying to identify the sound. It seemed to be coming from far away... inside the house.
The telephone.
He jumped up and had the door unlocked before he could wonder why it mattered if someone called him.
The instant he recognized just who was on the other end of the line, he cursed vividly.
The tinny voice chuckled in his ear, unmoved by the blasphemy. "And interesting greeting, Rupert. Although I didn't know you felt that way about me."
"Quentin," Giles rasped warningly. "Your timing, as well as your attempt at humor, are both abysmal. State your business and leave me alone."
"First of all, the Council wishes me to convey our most sincere condolences, Watcher Giles. Regardless of your opinion of me, or your notions as to my opinion of your Slayer, we were devastated by her loss. She was the most skilled Slayer to come along in over a century, and we were well aware of that."
"You might have told her that, you complete ponce. She deserved that much respect."
"You're quite correct, Rupert. I confess her rather... ah... colorful reaction to my presence made such compliments a bit awkward."
"Now why was that, I wonder? Surely a small thing such as the Cruciamentum shouldn't bother her, should it? Your firing the only person who objected to risking her... and her mother's... life... no that couldn't have made her cross, could it? Perhaps she disapproved of my replacement... barely old enough to recite the Oath, wasn't our Wesley, when you sent him here? No, I can't imagine why..."
His mouth worked silently a few times, and he choked back a sob, unable to say her name. "...why she would dislike you, Quentin. I can't imagine at all."
There was a moment of acknowledging silence. Quentin cleared his throat, suddenly sounding tired and sad. "I am sorry, Rupert. Truly."
Giles nodded to himself, uncaring that the man across the ocean couldn't see the gesture. "She had been through so much, Quentin. Conquered so much... I don't think any of us actually... expected... to lose her." His voice broke, but he didn't care. "We didn't believe it could happen."
"I know. We never are truly prepared." Quentin cleared his throat again. "And I know this is a trying time for you, but I have something to tell you, and you must pay careful attention."
"Very well. I'm listening... for the moment."
"Good. When news of Buffy's death reached us, Rupert, we were stunned."
"I'm not surprised..."
"But you should be! And we shouldn't have been! Buffy's death should have triggered a Calling."
Giles thought about that statement, frowning. "I thought the prevailing theory was that Faith's death would trigger a new Slayer."
Quentin hesitated, and Giles suddenly realized that his superior was embarrassed by what he was going to say next. Embarrassed, or, perhaps... ashamed. "The Council felt it necessary to... sever Faith's tie with the Ancient Power, Rupert. It was done almost a year ago... after Faith was incarcerated."
"WHAT?" Giles roared into the phone. "You... you... that is unthinkable! The expected lifespan of a severed Slayer is... God, Quentin, have you stooped so low? She'll never understand... one day, her strength will be gone, and she'll be killed by the first creature that comes along! It's barbaric!"
"She's in prison."
"She'll be out in a few years, you idiot! Of course, you might get lucky and she might suddenly die behind bars! Why didn't you tattoo a large red target on her forehead while you were at it? Or was this the plan all along? Your attempt to take her back to England for 'rehabilitation'... that was nothing but a sham, wasn't it?"
"Rupert, please," Quentin begged stiffly. "It was not my decision."
"Everything to do with the bloody Council is your decision!"
"Not this."
His somber tone somehow got through to Giles. "The Mages?" he asked quietly.
"Yes. We had no choice."
Giles fell silent, fuming. The mysterious, powerful Mages that had supposedly given the First Slayer her power rarely made an appearance in Council meetings. Historically, it had been centuries since they were heard from. Little was known about them, but they were practically eternal. Equally revered and feared.
"I see."
"No, I don't think you do, Rupert. Not yet."
"Please, enlighten me, then. I'm sure Cost Accounting is already frowning at the length of this call."
Quentin recovered enough of his bravado to chuckle, but sobered quickly. "Very well. The Mages met with the Ruling Council this morning, and they have a theory as to why another Slayer has not been Called."
"And that theory is?" Now that his surge of anger was spent, Giles was suddenly very tired.
"That your Slayer still lives."
Nothing could have prepared him for that statement. He fumbled for a chair and barely managed to fall into it. "That's impossible. I carried her to the ambulance myself. I checked for her pulse." Reliving the nightmare brought fresh tears to his eyes, and his voice rose in volume with each word. "I spoke to the Coroner. By all that's holy, I saw her fall, Quentin! We buried her only a few hours ago! Can't you leave her to rest in PEACE?"
He caught a sob before it was completely audible, and almost missed Travers' next words. "In some form, or some dimension, in a way we don't fully understand as yet, Buffy still lives, Rupert. It's the only explanation that makes sense."
"You're all mad."
"You have to believe me."
"No. I don't. I'm not a Watcher any more. I was never anything but her Watcher, and now I'm nothing. No one. Leave me be. I can't pretend she's still here!"
"Rupert Giles, stop sniveling and pay attention!" Travers snapped. "Your Slayer is trapped, somewhere beyond this reality. You must find her, and free her. If you do not, the Slayer line stops here. Now. There will be no more!"
"No..."
"We will assist you in any way we can, of course. I shall send Nigel and Prudence to you right away, with every resource we have that might possibly be of help. They're crack researchers..."
"Nigel and Prudence?" Giles interrupted, momentarily sidetracked.
"Yes. You may remember Miss Jones and Nigel Abernathy from our most recent visit."
He did remember... and decided that Prudence was a fitting name for the dour, stiffly attired young woman that poured over his inventory with such disapproval.
"Part of your somber entourage... yes, I recall."
Quentin allowed himself another chuckle as he continued, "They've married recently."
"Good Lord."
"Yes, that was my reaction as well. At any rate, they'll be with you in a few days. You may disapprove of our methods, Rupert, but these two are the finest assistants I've ever employed. They will do absolutely anything you ask of them, without question. Their research and language skills are unparalleled."
Giles sighed heavily. The others would not be pleased with their arrival. "Very well. So long as I reserve the right to call a halt to this madness if we find nothing."
"Of course. You are the expert on the field, Rupert. This is your investigation. I would ask you, however, to consider the gravity of giving up too soon."
Giles nodded again, overwhelmed with cascading emotions. "Of course. Goodbye."
Without waiting for a reply, he cradled the telephone and wiped his face wearily. His hand came away wet with tears.
He looked around the room, not seeing a thing in it. He didn't want to see, or hear, or even think about the possibility that the love of his life might be alive... but just out of his reach.
Giles was afraid his heart wouldn't bear up under another disappointment.
********
"Slayer." The voice reverberated, like a Chinese gong. One set of echoes had hardly faded before the word was repeated.
No, I'm not.
The word persisted.
She resisted.
It insisted.
Rhyming isn't my forte, is it?
"Slayer."
Go away. I'm done saving the world. Too tired.
"SLAYER."
She retained enough of herself to mutter, "Ten more minutes, Mom."
Images of her mother instantly flashed behind her tightly closed eyes, followed closely by freeze frames of Dawn, Willow and Xander all engaged in mundane, everyday activities. Brushing teeth, combing hair, eating, walking...
"SLAYER."
"I'm NOT! I'm BUFFY! Not The Slayer! Not the Chosen One! Just Buffy Summers Giles... oh, God... Rupert... I miss you... I'm sorry... the last thing we ever did together was argue..."
She began to sob quietly, still unwilling to allow another of her senses to be assaulted by the annoying what-ever-it-was that wouldn't leave her alone. "Go away."
"NO."
Why won't you leave me alone? I'm dead, already, and you're still bugging me!
"YOU ARE NOT DEAD, and you are not alone." The voice changed, mid-sentence, to something dear and familiar.
She moved slightly, turning her head to peer under her arm. Her vision was fuzzy, but she recognized the figure instantly. "Mom?"
"You're not alone, Buffy." The image of Joyce gave her a kind, motherly smile.
"That's cruel, and you know it." Buffy ducked back into a huddle, shaking violently. "You're not my mother."
"I am what became of your mother, Slayer."
Buffy huffed into her arms. "See, there you go, messing things up again. Mom would never call me Slayer."
"You must listen."
NO!
"Yes. You are not dead. Yet."
Oh, great, I'm in some kind of limbo where I get to pay for all the times I cheated on my Math tests.
The voice actually chuckled softly. "You are not in limbo. You are between."
"Between? Between what? Life and death? Here and there? Broadway and Fifty-seventh? Come on, you gotta do better than that."
"Between existences. Perhaps this image will please you." The voice deepened into a soft baritone. "Is this better?"
She couldn't help looking. "Angel?"
"I can be whatever you need. Whatever it takes to make you listen."
She turned away, sniffing angrily. "I stopped listening to Angel a long time ago. If you're so all-powerful, you should know that."
"I'm not all-powerful. I was summoned."
"Yeah, well, I took a swan dive off a scaffold. I guess you'd say I was a suicide."
"Would this image be more to your liking?" The voice rose an octave, and ended in a familiar giggle. Buffy envisioned red, swinging hair and green eyes, but kept her eyes shut tightly.
"No."
The being sighed, sounding so Willow-like that Buffy was tempted to look. She forced herself to remain still and unresponsive.
"Very well. I have no other choice." The voice switched on the last few words, accenting them slightly.
Buffy began to cry again. The urge to bury herself in those familiar arms was almost overwhelming.
"Buffy, you must listen. Since your eighteenth birthday, I have never lied to you, or deceived you, have I?"
"You're not real."
"The man who wears this image is very real."
"NO!" she shouted, turning angrily. "If you're going to talk to me, let me see your face! Don't hide behind my thoughts like a coward!!"
The Giles-image seemed taken aback, then slowly grinned and started laughing. "Oh, my, I must say you're a spirited spirit, child."
She huffed and turned away, folding her arms in a six-year-old's gesture. "Giles would never call me child."
"No, he wouldn't." The bell-tone was back, and suddenly, she was afraid to look. The voice was everywhere, around and inside her, impossible to ignore.
"But I might call you kid."
Buffy turned slowly, only mildly surprised that she still had a body and feet to turn with. Behind her, dressed in his usual garish Hawaiian shirt and shapeless hat, stood the creature she knew only as Whistler.
"Whoa, kid, you sure got an imagination! I thought I'd try something a little less obvious, but you kept draggin' up all your emotional baggage. I was beginning to think I wasn't gonna get through to ya."
"You're saying I did that? Saw Mom and Angel... and Giles?"
"Well, your soul was zapped by that portal, so I guess you were a little confused.'
"Yeah. I remember that. Except I thought I was dead."
"Like I said, not yet. Anyway, is this better?" He held out his arms in a 'look me over' gesture.
"Yeah, it's better. At least I know a demon when I see one."
"Well, I'm not exactly a demon. I sorta got promoted."
Buffy laughed bitterly. "So did I."
The look he gave her was one of complete understanding and sympathy. "You' re never really free, kid. I mean, not until your soul goes to its reward. Trust me, I know."
For some reason, she did trust him. "What do you want? Or, to be more accurate, what do THEY want?"
Whistler smiled briefly. "He, they, whatever, has a mission for you. He says that if you do this, and succeed, you will be returned to your life on Earth."
Buffy frowned in thought, then suddenly plopped down onto the floor, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knees. She rubbed her face wearily and groaned, "Not another apocalypse."
"Nah, nothing so major. Just something that requires a physical presence."
She waved her arms wildly. "Hey! Question here! WHAT physical presence? I'm dead! Buried! Giles probably has the insurance check already!"
"You're not dead, I told you. Just your body."
"That's enough for the IRS. When they say you're dead, you're DEAD."
Whistler chuckled and sat beside her. "I didn't say it'd be easy, coming back from the dead. Never has been for me."
She was quiet for a long time. Her mind was obviously racing, weighing the possibilities. When she raised her eyes to his, they were wet. "What about... Rupert? The others? Will I ever see them again? If I do this big quest thing, I mean?"
"Yeah, you'll go back home, kid. Just like you were before. Except you'll remember everything."
"What if I don't want to remember?" She sounded so small, so young.
"Sorry, that's the breaks. The deal is the deal. Take it or leave it."
"What if I don't take it? What then?"
"Then you die, and somewhere out there, a world will cease to exist."
Her eyes grew wide with alarm. "A whole world? Poof? Because I didn't go there?"
He nodded solemnly. "Poof. Because you didn't go there."
She broke into tears, and wailed, "But I'm just Buffy. I can't be what they want."
"Kid, you just don't get it, do ya?" Whistler put a companionable arm around her shoulders. "You're exactly what they want."
********
"This is bloody useless." Giles rose from his chair and tossed his glasses onto the book he'd been reading. Disgust dripped from his voice. "There's nothing here. There's nothing anywhere. She's gone, and we're wasting our time." He began to pace, passing Prudence closely enough to cause her to pull her feet out of harm's way.
"Mister Giles," Nigel began cautiously, fearing the man's temper. He'd seen several prime examples of it in the past few weeks. "There were those references to Heigel's Compendium..."
"Which we do NOT have!"
"No, sir, but there is a pristine copy in..."
"In the bloody Council Archives, I know, I know. Why did you bother to come over at all? Why didn't you stay in your fine library and just ring to annoy me occasionally? I'd be in a much better mood if I hadn't wasted three weeks researching something that doesn't exist!"
He stormed out of the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. He stood there, fuming, looking for something to drink... or throw. If Dawn hadn't been upstairs, he'd have screamed in frustration.
He missed his wife with every fiber of his being. He couldn't sleep, barely could eat, and refused to share his grief with anyone. His grief was all he had left... the one thing that still tied him to his beloved. He didn't want the memory of her last, bravest act to be tainted with false hope.
The door squeaked slightly as Prudence edged in around it. She approached him cautiously, but with quiet confidence. "Mister Giles, I have an idea, if you're amenable."
"I ceased to be amenable some time ago, Mrs. Abernathy. About a month ago, actually." He ran his hands through his already tousled hair. "I very much doubt I'll ever be amenable again."
"Yet you are very caring and gentle with Dawn, sir."
"Dawn is family."
"So is Buffy," she said softly, then flinched when he turned on her, his face livid.
Before he could retort, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He lost his fierce look, his expression softening as Dawn came into view.
"Hi, Giles, Hi, Mrs. Abernathy. Um... Giles, can I have some popcorn and soda up in my room? There's a really neat movie on, and I since I can't come down here..."
"Well, you've already had supper, so I can't use that as an excuse. And you 're not obese, nor covered in acne..."
"Gross, Giles!" Dawn complained with a grin. "Well, can I?"
"There'll be an awful mess to clean up in the morning..."
"Giles! Yes or no?"
"Yes."
"Yay! Thanks, I double promise to clean up anything I spill. You'll never know there was food up there."
He sighed heavily. "You know I shall check first thing in the morning, don' t you?"
"Duh! You're worse than Mom ever was!" She flashed him a sad smile, grabbed a bag of microwave popcorn and slid it into the oven to cook. She went to the refrigerator and began rummaging for a drink, leaving Giles and Prudence to continue their interrupted conversation.
"Mister Giles?" she reminded gently.
"Ah, yes. Your idea. Please..." He gestured with an open hand, inviting her to speak.
"I know Dawn's father wishes her to visit, so perhaps we could grant that wish and help ourselves in the process."
Dawn stopped pouring her soda and began to pay close attention.
"You've said many times in the past few weeks that we don't have the pertinent documentation at our disposal here. Why don't we return to London and continue our research there? You're anxious to finish this, we're away from home, and Dawn misses her father." Prudence nodded at the teenager in sympathy.
"It's not a big deal. I never saw Dad all that much before, I mean since the divorce." Dawn shuffled her feet uncomfortably.
"You do wish to see him, don't you?" Prudence insisted.
Dawn looked at Giles, afraid that agreeing would somehow be a betrayal. Her eyes searched his for a clue to his feelings.
He smiled and went to her, putting gentle hands on her shoulders. "You want to see him, don't you?"
"Yeah," she admitted in a low voice. "He may be a jerk, but he's my Dad."
Giles hugged her briefly. "It's all right, Dawn. I wouldn't object at all, if that's what you want."
A sly look came across her face. "Only, I wish I could go to England, too. 'Cause that'd be so cool."
He laughed and patted her arm. "Perhaps we can arrange something towards the end of your stay. I should think we'd need at least a month, perhaps two, to do this properly."
"Two months in LA, and England, too?" Dawn's voice brightened considerably. "Way good!"
Nigel had quietly joined Prudence as Dawn was talking, and he looked down at his wife with a pleased smile. "I can make the reservations on my laptop computer, sir, if you like."
Giles nodded, suddenly calm. Making the decision, however futile it ultimately might prove to be, had given him a measure of peace. "Make them, Abernathy. I want to be away as soon as possible."
The microwave dinged, and Dawn snatched out the steaming bag of popcorn with cautious fingers. "Ow, hot! Thanks, Giles, you're the best!" She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and grabbed her drink. "Oh, I gotta call Willow and Tara, and tell them. They're gonna be totally green!" She bounded up the stairs and was gone.
Giles' eyes reflected his smile as they followed the girl out of sight. "She's a Summers, through and through," he said fondly, blinking back tears as he thought of the other Summers girl that had captured his heart.
He slapped the counter suddenly, making the two younger Watchers jump. "Right, then. Let's pack up, shall we?"
********
His dreams had been horrible since Buffy died, dark and twisted visions of her last moments, their last words, images that nearly drove him mad. He'd frightened Dawn several times by shouting in his sleep, causing her to run to his bedroom door and knock frantically until he replied. She hadn't teased him about it, for she'd awakened him a few times, herself. The last time she'd come to her senses in his loose embrace, his soft words of comfort a welcome anchor to her frightened mind. Neither of them shared their nightmares. Neither of them wished to revisit those dark worlds in the daylight.
Tonight was different. His dreams had been wispy, ethereal things, never settling on a particular theme, only giving him glimpses before twisting off into a new, sepia-toned vignette. He was still restless, but the sorrow and fear were missing. He drifted through half-remembered events, even recognizing the old school library for a brief moment.
Just before the sun began to rise, his formless dreams shifted into something else. He sensed a change--a presence--that surrounded him with warmth. He shifted to his back, throwing his arms wide as if to embrace the goodwill that had come to him. He felt something brush against his face, and he turned his head to prolong the feeling. His eyes popped open as he recognized the touch. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the smile. Her smile.
"Hi, sweetie," the apparition said softly.
He couldn't speak. It was the first time he'd seen her face since he'd said his goodbyes to her still form at her funeral. His nightmares had always been shrouded in shadow, hiding even that small comfort from him.
But now... now she was before him, smiling a loving, welcoming smile. He reached up, afraid that she would dissipate with his touch.
She didn't.
"I need to tell you something, okay? And you have to remember." Her fingers traced his face, trembling with the joy of being with him again.
"Buffy?" An errant tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. He thought he'd used up all his tears, but an unexpected reservoir opened up inside him, and soon he was weeping openly.
"Rupert, I wish I could stay with you, but I only get a few minutes."
"Oh, Buffy, love, I'm so sorry..."
"No, Rupert, I'm the one that's sorry. I should've listened to you about Dawn... maybe I could've come up with something better, if I hadn't been so stubborn."
"I was saying the most horrible thing you'd ever heard, Love. You had every right..."
"I never had the right to hurt you, Rupert. Please forgive me?"
In reply, he sat straight up in the bed and embraced her, feeling her substance shift and solidify to accommodate him. The bizarre sensation made him realize he was embracing a specter. His voice broke as he cried, "Buffy... Dear God, what has been done to you?"
"Shh, sweetie, it's okay. I'm really alive, but I have this big cosmic quest thing I have to do. That's why I'm here. I know you're looking for a way to bring me back."
"Darling..." He kissed her with passionate desperation, feeling the strange, insubstantial energy solidify her lips in response. "Of course I want you back, I've missed you so! We've been researching..."
"That's what I'm talking about. You gotta wait."
He stared at her hungrily, fingers disturbing the energy field that held her together as they stroked through her golden hair. The action caused sparks of light to dance off the tips of his fingers. He wondered absently what form of energy it was, then brought himself back to more important things. "Wait... what do you mean, wait? Why?"
"Because you have to give me time, Rupert. I have something to do, and if you try to bring me back too soon, it'll mess things all up. There's a whole world at stake, in another dimension or universe or whatever. You have to wait."
"But... I haven't found anything yet."
Her eyes grew full of pride. "I know my Watcher. You will."
"Oh, Love..."
"I have to go, hon. Gotta get with the program."
"Buffy!" Tears began to leak from his eyes again, and he fought to regain his composure. "Please, my love, my life, don't leave me..."
"I can't stay... now. I was promised another chance if I do this... how can I not try?"
"Another chance...?"
"To come back to you. For us to be newlyweds again. To see Will and Xander. To take care of Dawn and drive Spike crazy again. All of it."
"But... how... when?"
"I don't know yet. I don't know how long it will take. I don't even know if time works the same way there as it does here. I don't even know where 'there' is. But you have to wait."
He traced her jaw gently. "All right, my dearest. For you, I shall wait. Forever, if need be."
She smiled and leaned into him for a mind-blowing kiss. Energy enveloped them with blue fire, and he lost himself in the feeling. He even forgot to how breathe for a moment, gasping as she broke the kiss and backed away. "It won't be forever, Rupert, I promise."
"Buffy!" he cried desperately as she began to move out of focus. "When... how shall I know?"
"You'll know. I'll make sure of it. Somehow, I'll let you know. I'll need a little help getting home, so be ready, okay?"
His hand reached for her, despite his acceptance of her request. "Buffy... I miss you, Buffy." He swallowed hard, and anguish filled his voice as he whispered, "I've been so alone."
The fading stopped as she turned her head and looked upward, listening. She nodded after a few seconds, and approached him again, resting a hand on his chest until he slid back onto the pillow. She followed him down, her ghostly face just inches from him.
"This is all I can give you, for now. But you just wait 'til I get home, lover boy, 'cause I'm gonna wear you out!"
He began to chuckle soggily. "That sounds like my Buffy," he managed as she bent to kiss him.
His chuckle turned to a gasp as she began to melt into him, surrounding and filling him with the same light that sparked when they had touched. Her presence flowed into his soul, soothing him, taking the edge off his pain. He cried out, an almost orgiastic sound, and the light faded slowly, dimming as his body relaxed into heavy sleep.
The alarm woke him at seven, and when he arose, he was alone. No, that wasn 't strictly true. He felt different... whole. Buffy's parting gift had somehow infused him with the very thing that was missing before... her presence. Even though he could not see her, he could feel her. It made all the difference in the world.
He woke Dawn with a gentle, "Good morning," and cheerfully made blueberry pancakes while she shuffled around half asleep.
"You're in a good mood," she grumbled, shoving a forkful of pancake into her mouth before the last word was finished.
"Yes, I am." He knew he couldn't share his nighttime visitation with the girl. It sounded like he was losing his grip on reality. He hadn't, of course. What he'd experienced was very real. "I feel we're on to something, going to England. Perhaps it's wishful thinking, but I'm certain our answers are there."
"Yeah? Well, anyway, Dad's not gonna be here until late tonight. He's got some meeting first."
Giles frowned slightly. "I thought he was taking some holiday time to spend with you."
"He is," she said quickly. "But he's gotta do the meeting first, I guess to tell them what to do while he's gone."
"Ah. All right, then. Now, Dawn," he made sure he had her attention. "If things don't go as you planned... I'll call you at your father's once we've gotten settled and give you my number. I'm going out this morning to get one of those international calling cards, and you must promise to call me if you, um, if you don't want to stay with your father the entire time."
"And if I decide I don't wanna stay with Dad, what happens then?"
He favored her with a warm smile. "Then you'll have to come to London early, I suppose."
She beamed at him. "Okay." She finished her breakfast quickly, then jumped up and gave him an enthusiastic hug.
"What's all this for?" he teased.
"For thanks, Giles. I know dragging me around isn't your idea of fun, but thanks."
He held her back so she could see his face. "Dawn, listen to me. You are not now, nor will you ever be a burden. You're family. Now get yourself ready. The others will be here soon, and I understand the beach gets crowded quickly this time of year."
"Oh, right! I gotta hurry!" She bounced away, leaving him to the dishes and his own memories.
He was just putting the last plate away when the doorbell rang. A thrill of anticipation ran through him, even though he knew it was either Xander or Willow.
Buffy had told him to wait. That he would do. But until she returned, he would do everything in his power to find the answers they sought.
He believed. He had to believe. It was the only hope he had. The dream... or vision... whatever it was... had bolstered his waning courage. He'd find a way to bring her back. She would come home.
Just before he moved to let his young friends in, he whispered to himself, "One day, I shall answer that door, and she'll be there."
The End