Archive of Our Own

For the hundredth time, Dawn ran back into the house to check her room for forgotten items.

Nigel chuckled at Giles' patiently exasperated expression. "She's certainly full of energy, sir."

"Yes. It's good to see her excited and happy again. This has been a horrible time for her."

"And for you as well, sir." Nigel looked casually away as Giles' face furrowed in pain.

"Yes," he acknowledged briefly. He cleared his throat and said conversationally, "Did you pay a penalty at the rental place when you turned your car in?"

"No, thank goodness. My budget for this trip has already been stretched to the limit."

Giles smiled tolerantly at the younger Watcher. "Anxious to get home?"

"Oh, yes," Nigel breathed, then looked embarrassed at his emotional response.

Before Giles could comment, his young ward burst from the house, declaring loudly that she was really ready to go this time.

They piled into the Jeep, the only vehicle large enough to hold all the people and luggage involved, and drove away.

Several hours later, after a morning spent swearing at LA traffic, Giles drove the loaded vehicle up to a spacious house in Beverly Hills. He was amazed at the huge lawn and elaborate landscaping... this was the man that wouldn't support his family in any way except for what was required by the state of California, and yet he lived in luxury in the most exclusive part of LA. Giles felt his mouth tighten with disapproval.

Dawn, on the other hand, was delighted. "Oh, cool, what a great place! Way better than that old apartment! I bet there's a pool and sauna, and maybe even a tennis court!"

"Very likely," Giles growled, but Dawn was already out of the car, running to the door. Just as she arrived, the door opened and a formally attired man stepped out to meet her. He spoke with the girl briefly then watched she dashed into the house, presumably to begin her exploration of the grounds.

"Good Lord, the man has a butler," Prudence said in disbelief.

"I'll wager he's British, as well," Giles said gratingly as they began to unload Dawn's belongings. "I thought we'd moved past petty one-upmanship."

"Apparently not," Nigel said with a nod as the servant approached them.

"Mister Rupert Giles?" the man inquired politely. Sure enough, his voice was accented with an upper-class British drawl.

"Yes, I'm Rupert Giles."

"Collins, sir, at your disposal." The man actually bowed.

Giles felt the urge to say something snide, but managed to fight it. "Where is Dawn's father? I was to sign over custody of Dawn to him whilst I am out of the country on business."

The butler raised an eyebrow. "I am authorized to sign any consent forms you might have, sir."

Giles smiled and shook his head. "Dawn's father has failed twice to collect her from Sunnydale. His track record for parental behavior has been questionable, to say the least. I would feel much more at ease if he would greet his daughter in person, if you don't mind. I shouldn't like to think the child would spend her entire summer holiday in the care of servants."

The butler smirked briefly, then nodded. "As you wish, sir. I will contact him immediately." He gave Giles an understanding look and strode back towards the front door.

"Thank you." Giles turned to Nigel as the butler returned to the house. "At least his hirelings have a modicum of common sense."

"Only a modicum," Prudence said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "They work for Henry Summers."

Nigel burst into laughter, and Giles joined him.

"Ah, well, let's get these things inside. I'm sure Dawn will set her father straight, once she's able to speak to him face to face."

********

"Dawn..."

"You have to promise, Dad. Or I'm not staying. Giles has a ticket for me already." She folded her arms and stared up at Hank, her small size belying the steely determination contained within.

Hank shot a look at Giles, who was watching the discussion with grave amusement. The British couple with him studiously examined the art pieces that adorned the room, doing their best to be unobtrusive.

"Honey, I promise, but there are things I have to do..."

"You told me two weeks, Dad. You said we'd have two whole weeks together, no job, no phone calls, no running off in the middle of stuff. You said, and you promised. Were you lying?"

Nigel flashed a look at Hank, curiously awaiting the man's answer.

"No, of course I wasn't lying, honey. I do have two weeks planned. I just had to postpone them a few days while I get some problems ironed out."

"Un uh, Dad, I'm not buying that. You didn't even come and get me. That hurt, y'know? It's only a few hours away!"

"I know, and I'm sorry, sweetheart. I meant to send a car for you, but the garage got things mixed up."

"Dad, you drive. You were supposed to come yourself. If this is the way it 's gonna go, I'm not staying. I'm going with Giles." She turned away from Hank and stared into her guardian's face. Giles nodded comfortingly, and she favored him with a small grin.

Hank's shoulders slumped in defeat. "If I call the office right now, with you standing here, and tell them I'm not coming in until further notice, would that make you happy?"

She whirled and gave him a happy hug.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Hank said in relief. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open with practiced ease. Dawn watched carefully as he conveyed his message to his secretary, smiling happily when he finished.

He turned to Giles with a self-satisfied smirk. "Better?"

Giles nodded again, his face still showing disapproval. "Yes. I'll get the forms for you to sign, and we'll be on our way. We have a plane to catch."

"Sure. I'll be in the study. Collins can show you the way."

Giles snorted softly. "I believe I can find my way around."

After retrieving the papers from the car, Giles entered the heavily paneled study, stopping briefly to admire the extensive library that lined the walls. Hank was waiting with arms folded, his posture screaming defiance.

"Here they are, as promised. I had them drawn up by Joyce's lawyer, and they are quite genuine."

"Good. I don't want to get into a custody battle with you, even though I'd probably win."

"That is highly doubtful, but I agree that we need to be civil about this for Dawn's sake."

Hank leaned onto the table with both fists. "Let me be frank with you, Mister Giles. I don't trust you with Dawn. First Joyce dies, then Buffy... you're not doing the greatest job of looking after my family."

Giles dropped his gaze to the papers on the table, fighting the urge to strangle the man across the room.

"You're quite right, Mister Summers. I have not been able to protect them from the smallest things, such as cancer and freak accidents. I have not been able to shield Dawn from grief and sorrow. I'm sure that, as their biological father, you would have done a much better job of that." His voice was dripping with acid. "But, as usual, you weren't there. Don't presume to tell me how I should have behaved."

Hank's face remained stern. "Let's just get this over with, okay? The sooner you're gone, the better."

Giles looked up at his antagonist, smiling cannily. "Don't think for a moment that because I am out of the country you will find a loophole to get custody of Dawn. Joyce's lawyer was quite thorough. The moment the child requests to join me in London, she may do so. And if you try to restrict her use of the telephone card I gave her, it is also mentioned as part of the custody draft, and she knows that. She also has our lawyer's number, should it become necessary to force you to allow her to call. She is fifteen, and is old enough to decide what is acceptable and what is not. Whether or not she stays for the full length of her planned visit will be entirely based on your behavior."

Hank's eyes widened, and he sputtered, "She's... she's just a child! How dare you put me at her mercy!"

"She's a young adult, Mister Summers. She's been through traumas that would have crippled a lesser person. She's had to make some hard choices, and she 's made them with more grace than I would have imagined. She has every right to feel secure and loved, and to expect such from her own father. If you cannot provide that security, I can and will. She will be neglected no longer."

Hank flushed red, and he came around the table, stopping just a few feet from Giles. "You are this close to being knocked on your ass, buddy."

Giles' eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Try it, please do."

Something about the way the man accepted the challenge warned Hank to back away. He suddenly flashed back to Buffy's wedding day, and the casual way Giles had thrown that blonde man up against the wall. He clenched his fists and returned to his side of the table, shaking with anger.

Giles didn't even change his posture. "Now, if you're through being childish, sign the papers and we'll be on our way."

Hank signed.

********

"Flying at night is such a bore."

Giles turned to Prudence and queried politely, "You've flown a lot, then?"

On the other side of her, Nigel snored softly, his seat fully reclined. She looked over at him fondly, then answered Giles without looking back, "Far too much, I'm afraid. Our jobs as researchers seem to require it more and more frequently."

"Ah. Well, you must go where the information is, I suppose."

"According to Travers, yes."

Giles gave her a penetrating look. "I seem to sense you are not one of Quentin Travers' biggest fans."

"Indeed I am not. However, my dislike of our illustrious leader has less to do with his position and more to do with his attitude. He feels he speaks for the Council. Quite often, he does not."

"Ah... again," Giles sympathized with a knowing nod, filing that tidbit of information away for future consideration.

Nigel stirred, and the lady Watcher's attention refocused on her husband. Giles sighed and craned his neck to look out the window, despite the complete lack of scenery. Before he realized what he was doing, he dozed off, his head against the wall.

The moment he lost consciousness, intense light swirled around him once again, and he found himself in the same dream-like state that had heralded Buffy's first supernatural visitation. He looked around several times, hoping to see her, but he was alone.

After making several 360 degree turns, he stopped and sighed heavily. "Why am I here, in this place?"

A clear, resonant voice answered, "Because you wish to be."

That stumped him for a moment, but then it came to him. "Aha! Because this is where my dreams ceased to be nightmares."

"This is where you were given hope."

"Yes, but she was there, with me. This place was only the prelude." He scratched his head idly. "I don't suppose you could arrange to have her complete the flight with me? That would be pleasant."

The voice laughed.

"Nice to see the Almighty has a sense of humor," Giles commented.

"We do. Otherwise, We would have never created Humans."

Giles shook his head in disbelief. "I thought God's sense of humor would be more... sophisticated than that."

"We have to play to the audience in front of Us, Rupert."

Giles startled a bit at the use of his given name, then his face registered disbelief.

"Yes, We know your name. We know everyone's name. People do call Us 'God' ."

"Do you... do you know the name 'Buffy Summers'?" he asked sadly.

"Oh, yes."

Giles sighed again. "Good. I should hate to think you'd forgotten one of your poor servants."

The voice chuckled. "She is neither poor nor forgotten. She is blessed."

"Blessed with death."

"Blessed with life, Rupert. Blessed with a second chance. Few have been given that rare gift."

"I certainly hope she sees it as a gift... being tossed back into this hellish life."

"Love makes it worthwhile."

Giles smiled, thinking of her. "Yes, it does."

"Mister Giles?" Prudence's voice startled him out of his sleep.

"Wha... um... yes?"

"I'm sorry, but we're landing," she said with a warm smile, and he suddenly thought that perhaps Nigel wasn't such an idiot after all. Once you got around the stern, Lady Watcher exterior, she was warm, kind, and when she smiled, quite lovely.

He returned her smile self-consciously, and then they were on the ground.

The arrival and the trip through the crowded Heathrow Airport passed in a fog. Giles couldn't keep his mind on anything but his sleeping conversation with... whatever it was. Was it real, or just a product of an extremely overworked imagination?

As he dozed again in the back seat of Nigel's car, Prudence whispered to her husband, "He's really quite strange, isn't he? Strange and sad."

"Oh, I don't know. Once you get past the defensive attitude..."

"Which the Council have taken great pains to underscore in all their reports..."

Nigel chuckled softly. "Yes, they have. You must remember, I've met several Watchers after they'd lost their Slayer. I'd say he's doing remarkably well."

"Still, there's something..." She stopped, grinning self-consciously. "Perhaps I'm just being silly."

Nigel gave her hand a fond pat. "Not silly, merely concerned. It's quite all right."

She turned slightly and adjusted the mirror installed in her sun visor to check on the man in the back seat. He was asleep... and smiling.

She slid the visor back into place, a frown on her face. "Very strange," she said again, shaking her head.

********

"Are you sure you want to stay, Dawn?" Giles stopped one ear to improve his hearing. The connection to LA was terrible, as usual. Less than three weeks had passed, and Dawn's calls had become more frequent and full of little complaints. Giles irritation with Hank Summers grew with each conversation.

The crackling voice on the other end said, "Yeah, Giles, it's okay. He's not around much... didn't last out the week before running back to his precious office... but I met a couple of cool girls at the club yesterday, and we're gonna go to Hollywood this weekend. It's okay. Really."

"If you're sure," he said hesitantly.

"I am. And, hey, it isn't a total loss! I'm spending Dad's money like it was going outta style."

Giles laughed softly. "Good girl."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Again... for saying what I need to hear, instead of telling me how selfish I am with the money thing. I think maybe I'll be ready to go in a week or two, okay?"

He smiled to himself. "The moment you're ready to go, all you have to do is call."

"I know. So, I'll talk to you next week, okay?"

"Okay."

The casual word coming from Giles' mouth made Dawn giggle. "Sounds kinda funny when you say it. Bye, Giles."

"Good-bye."

He hung up the phone and turned to Nigel. "The connection was terrible... again. I thought this was the age of technology... can't even get a decent signal from the continent next door."

Nigel grunted in acknowledgement but refused to move from his comfortable spot on the sofa. The cottage they'd rented had three bedrooms, a rather large terrace area, and a comfortable garden. One bedroom had immediately been converted into a study, and the three adults were soon comfortably situated for in depth research.

Of course, the third bedroom would have to be surrendered once Dawn joined them. In Giles opinion, that would be happening fairly soon.

Before he could lapse into brooding over his charge, Prudence strode into the room, a wicker basket full of fresh vegetables swinging from one arm. "Nigel, Mister Giles, look at this! Everything in the garden has ripened at once!"

Nigel sat up with a worried frown. "Pru, darling, are you sure we should be raiding our landlord's garden?"

"We did take the place for the entire summer. I suppose we are entitled to a few veggies," Prudence stated defiantly.

The two men stood and Giles took the basket from her. "Well, then, I say we get started on supper, shall we?"

As they went into the kitchen, Nigel said casually, "Travers called this afternoon." He watched as his wife and Giles both tensed up. "He's coming down tomorrow to see how we're progressing."

Giles snorted, "Just the thing... a visit from the head ogre. I'm sure we' re all properly inspired."

Prudence strangled a giggle, and Nigel shook his head. "Ready or not, he'll be here before noon."

Actually, Travers arrived just after seven in the morning, which didn't endear his visit to his hosts in the slightest.

********

The massive, crumbling tomes that the Council had provided, via Quentin Travers' flashy BMW, were yielding their secrets only after intense scrutiny. Most of them were couched in language so archaic that the team had found itself arguing over their translations. Even Travers, long used to months spent in painstaking study, found himself frustrated and mentally exhausted. After just three days, Travers was called back to London. The Abernathys remained, determined but drained.

Giles fared no better. He could feel the days slip by, and feared he would not be ready to help Buffy when the time came. He grew more obsessed as each avenue turned into a dead end. After almost a month in his homeland, Giles was a snarling wreck, and his Watcher companions feared for his sanity.

At the end of a particularly trying day, Giles was attempting to drown his disappointment in a rather large glass of single-malt scotch when the telephone rang. He answered it gruffly, hoping he wasn't slurring too badly to be understood.

"Giles? Um... hey, I'm sorry to call so late. I keep forgetting what time it is over there." Dawn giggled nervously.

"It's all right. I wasn't asleep." Her familiar voice seemed to calm him. He sat his glass on the counter and turned away from it, unconsciously shielding Dawn from his weakness. He could tell she was upset, and he said softly, "What's the matter?"

"Well, I said everything was going okay, and it was, for a while, but Dad's gone back to Spain, and he sorta forgot to tell Collins what to do with me, and I've been stuck here a week and I don't have any money or anything and my friends have gone to Catalina, and since Collins didn't know anything he wouldn't let me go and all I can do is swim and watch TV and I just think I need to come to England now, okay?"

Giles began to chuckle, causing Nigel to sit straight up in surprise.

"Giles! This is major! Don't laugh, geez!"

"Oh, Dawn, I'm not laughing at you, dear. Of course you may come on, any time you like. I've missed you."

Her voice turned shy. "I miss you, too, Giles. You always do what you say you're gonna do, unlike some other jerk grownups I've known."

"I try. Now, shall I talk to Collins? He won't disobey me, I assure you."

"Yeah, I guess you better. He's scared he'll get fired if I so much as sneeze."

Giles waited patiently while Dawn located the butler. He hummed to himself, just tipsy enough to enjoy the irony of the situation. Hank hires a snobby butler to insult Giles, and Giles ends up telling the snobby butler what to do. In precise detail. Points to the Watcher.

Finally, he heard the receiver being picked up. "Collins, here."

"Ah, Collins. Be a good lad and pack up Dawn's things. She's going to be leaving for England tomorrow. You're to drive her to the airport and see her safely to her flight before you leave."

"Have you checked with Mister Summers, sir? I'm not aware of her flight being scheduled..."

"It would be difficult to check with Mister Summers, wouldn't it, since he's gone and left Dawn alone... again?" Giles' voice turned hard. "There is a flight tomorrow, leaving LAX at just after eight AM. I can give you the flight number, stopovers, and arrival time as well. I've kept track for just such an occasion. It's stipulated in the custody agreement that Mister Summers has no say in when Dawn may leave, especially now, since he is currently out of the country himself."

"Mister Summers will not be pleased," Collins sniffed.

"Mister Summers can go hang. He knows I have the law on my side, Collins. Since he had no intention of taking proper care of his own flesh and blood, you were hired to baby-sit, as I'm sure you're aware. In fact, your services may no longer be required after the man gets back from Spain. A word of advice; I suggest you find another job as soon as possible. Mister Summers is not known for his dependability."

"I cannot comment on that, sir."

"I'm sure you cannot. At any rate, Dawn is coming to England. I'll not have her upset any further, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Collins said, then his voice changed slightly. "Miss Summers has been well cared for while she was in my charge, I assure you."

"I'm sure you've done your best, Collins, but this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with her father's behavior. I intend for her to be happy. In her present state, she is not."

The telephone was silent as Collins considered Giles' words. "I understand, sir. I shall see she reaches her flight on time."

Giles let his held breath out with a whoosh. "Good man. I am not pleased with Mister Summers' treatment of his daughter, not at all. There may be legal ramifications when I return to the States."

"As you say, sir." Collins voice rang with acknowledgement of Giles statement.

"It may be that you will be called to testify about certain things, Collins. Would you do that, if asked?"

"I cannot speak against Mister Summers while in his employ, sir."

"Of course not. You're a loyal employee, I'm sure." Giles smiled. Collins was well trained, never letting a negative word escape about those he worked for. Once he left Hank Summers' service, however, things might be a bit different. Giles suspected that, in addition to his custody troubles, Hank might also find it difficult to hire servants from now on. "How long that remains true is entirely up to you. Please put Dawn back on the phone."

"Hey, Giles, that went better than I thought it would." Her voice already was taking on a lighter tone.

"Yes, it did. Is tomorrow morning too soon for you to leave?"

"Wow! Tomorrow? That's great! I'm already ready!"

He chuckled again at the excitement in her voice. "Then I'll see you soon, all right?" Giles felt his mood lighten considerably at the prospect of seeing his young charge again.

"You bet! You're the best, Giles, and I mean it."

"Thank you."

"I love you, you know that, right?"

"I know. And I love you, as well. Try and get a good night's sleep."

"Yeah, okay, I will. Bye!"

"Goodbye."

He looked over at Nigel and Prudence, who were watching him intently, wary of his sudden change of mood.

"Everything all right, Mister Giles?" Nigel ventured at length.

"Of course," Giles answered lightly, forgetting about his drink on the counter and strolling back into the living room. "But we're going to have to give up our research room. Dawn is leaving LA tomorrow."

Early the next morning, Nigel left his room before anyone else stirred and went to the kitchen telephone. He dialed a private number, waiting patiently until he heard his superior's voice at the other end. "Nigel, here."

"Ah, Nigel? Have things improved since my visit? Or is Rupert still being tiresome?"

"He's actually a bit brighter, sir, since Dawn called and asked to come to England."

"The Slayer's sister? Why would he want her there?"

"I believe he cares for her. He was named her guardian by the Slayer's Will."

"Rupert's sense of loyalty is still intact, I see. Well, she might prove to be useful. He's no good to us in his current unstable condition."

"He isn't unstable, sir. Just cross. He hasn't done anything untoward."

"Except for shouting at the slightest provocation."

Nigel chuckled softly. "You've shouted at me a time or two, sir. I've grown accustomed to it."

"I may very well shout at you in future, Nigel, so I suppose you need to keep in practice." Travers' voice changed as he grew more serious. "But if Rupert seems to be losing his grip, Nigel, I want you to act, and act swiftly. We don't need him to complete the spell."

Nigel swallowed nervously. "I don't think it will come to that, sir."

"Perhaps not. Your orders are clear, however, are they not?"

"They are, sir."

"Good. Now go before the others awake and you have to explain this call. I 'll expect to hear from you after Dawn arrives."

"Yes, sir."

Nigel carefully replaced the receiver. With a heavy heart, he returned to bed. Prudence didn't even know he'd been gone.

********

"I don't see her!"

"Calm down, sir," Prudence said soothingly. "She'll be along in a moment."

Giles resumed his three-step pacing. "If that berk Summers has somehow prevented her from leaving, there'll be Hell to pay."

Nigel's head shot up, and he said, "There she is."

Giles followed his gaze to the slender brunette that was heading his way as fast as she could through the crowd. "Giles!"

"Dawn, thank God."

She threw her arms around his waist and they clung to each other for several moments. He finally pulled back, holding her at arms length. "You look wonderful, and I believe you've grown another inch."

She giggled, "Nah, it's just the heels. I did get to spend some quality time on the beach, though. I have a decent tan."

"Which will soon fade in light of our unstable weather, I'm sure."

She laughed and hugged him again. "I'm so glad I'm finally here."

"So am I, dear." He closed his eyes in relief. "So am I."

Dawn chatted happily as they retrieved her baggage and drove back to the cottage. Giles seemed genuinely interested in her prattle, much to the Abernathys' amusement. The moment they arrived, she began to unpack and arrange the room to suit her mood. The adults left her to her task and retired to the living area to contemplate the impact that an active fifteen-year-old was going to have on their sedate retreat.

"Giles? I got something for you." Dawn was hovering in the doorway, her hands behind her back.

"A present?" Giles stood and faced her, plainly surprised.

"Well, I got other stuff for you while I was in LA, but this is kinda like the main present."

He moved to her side as she held out a gaily-wrapped rectangle. "It's nothing major," she said with a nervous shrug.

"How very thoughtful of you."

He accepted the gift with a smile, unwrapping it as she blurted, "Well, see, it's my favorite book. Mom... she used to read it to me. I was kinda hoping you'd read it to me sometime."

He held a well-worn copy of Little Women in his hands, realizing what the gift meant. He blinked several times to overcome the stinging behind his eyes, then said softly, "I'd be honored. Tonight, after supper, if you like."

She beamed at him, relieved at his acceptance of a part of her past. "That' d be cool. Um... can I go look around?"

"Go right ahead. Just don't stray too far."

"No problem! Thanks!"

She was out the door in a blink, and Giles smiled after her, inexplicably content.

Nigel stepped to his side and breathed deeply of the afternoon air. After a moment, he said, "Shall we return to our research, sir?"

"Yes, of course."

The two men gathered their material and spread it out on the large coffee table. Soon they were completely immersed in their study, looking up briefly when Prudence joined them. They studied for a few hours before Giles decided to start their evening meal. They'd been taking turns cooking, in order to spread out the workload, and they'd found Giles' California-ized cuisine interesting... and tasty.

As soon as he had everything simmering nicely, he stepped into the garden to find his young charge. He didn't see her right away, which gave him a slight twinge of fear, but he soon located her behind an old tool shed, sitting on an overturned crate and looking tearfully sad.

"Dawn? Are you all right?" He squatted down by her side, offering her his handkerchief.

She took it with a self-conscious snort. "It's no big deal. I was just... missing everybody."

He nodded in agreement. "I know what you mean. It's strange and frightening, isn't it, leaving everything you know behind, not knowing when or if you'll return?"

The understanding in his voice made her look up at him. She looked into his gentle eyes and said softly, "That's what you did, isn't it? When you came to Sunnydale?"

He smiled slightly. "I suppose it was."

"Then you know, don't you?"

He didn't reply.

"Was... um... is your Mom and Dad alive?"

He stood stiffly and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Father is, but he has always been, um, busy with Council matters... Mother has been gone for about a year."

"So... you're just like me."

"Yes."

She realized something, and her eyes welled up with tears again. "Your Mom died while you were clear across the world? That's harsh."

He reached out and gave her cheek a gentle stroke, wiping away the tear tracks that glistened there. When he finished he held out his hand to her, and she took it with such innocent trust that his heart nearly broke inside him.

She stood, unwilling to let go of the security of his grip, but her voice trembled as she asked softly, "Giles? How come you didn't go home for the funeral?"

He didn't reply, and after a long silence, she decided he wasn't going to. Just when she was going to tell him to forget the question, he cleared his throat.

"Let's get washed up for supper, all right?" He gave her palm a reassuring squeeze, and she returned it gratefully. If he didn't want to tell her, she wouldn't ask again. They started back to the house, with their hands still clasped.

"Yeah, I'm starving. What'cha makin'?"

"Pasta Primavera."

"Yum. Buffy's favorite." Her face fell at his pained expression. "I'm sorry, Giles. I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's all right. I refuse to behave as though she never existed. She was a part of our lives, and she will remain so, no matter what transpires in the next few weeks, Buffy will be a part of us forever."

She thought about it for a minute, and then nodded. "Yeah, you're right. No matter what, I have a mother named Joyce, and a sister named Buffy." She looked up at him with love. "And a really neat brother-in-law called Tweed Man."

"I told you not to call me that," he complained automatically as he opened the door for her, making her smile widen.

"I know."

********

As Nigel was getting ready for bed, he noticed a light on in the front room. He went to investigate, and was confronted with a most domestic sight.

Giles was sitting on the sofa with Dawn tucked in under one arm. In the other hand, he held her beloved book, and he was reading from it in a soft, soothing voice. The girl looked to be almost asleep. Giles' face glowed with contentment in the light of the reading lamp, and he seemed the happiest Nigel had ever seen him since Buffy's death.

He smiled and turned away, intending to return to his room, when he heard Dawn say, "Giles? What's wrong?"

He froze, concerned. A sudden cry of fear from Dawn convinced him to move quickly, and he dashed into the room, calling her name to make her aware of his presence.

"Help! Nigel! Something's wrong with Giles!" She clutched at her guardian, trying to will him to be okay.

He rounded the sofa and saw the older man slumped forward, breathing heavily. His tortured face was gray and drawn, and he was gasping, clutching his chest.

Hearing the commotion, Prudence appeared in her robe, dashing to Giles' side as she realized something was terribly wrong. She hovered there, uncertain what to do, as Nigel fell to his knees, his brief emergency service training kicking in automatically.

Heart attack, Nigel thought in horror as he tried to take Giles' pulse. It seemed to take forever to find the right spot on his wrist, since the suffering man's arms were pulled tightly to his body.

"Not... not... heart... not... it's... it's..." Giles doubled over again, panting desperately.

Finally, Nigel found Giles' pulse and started counting as he looked at his watch. Giles heartbeat was rapid, but strong. Still, the man was in obvious pain, his skin cold and clammy, with beads of sickly sweat lining his upper lip and forehead. "Mister Giles! I shall call an ambulance immediately!"

"Giles? Giles!" the girl called desperately, trying to get him to look up.

"Dawn... it's... ahhh... God, it's Buffy. Something's..." He took a huge gulp of breath and sat back. "It's better now. I'm... feeling things... I..."

"Sir? You said 'it's Buffy'. What do you mean?" Nigel asked urgently.

Color was slowly coming back to Giles' face, and he took several more deep breaths before answering, "I seem to have a... connection. She came to me in a dream, or vision..."

"How?" Dawn shrieked.

"When?" Nigel and Prudence both spoke at once.

"Before we left for England. I didn't speak of it because... I wasn't sure of my own sanity, I suppose. But I've felt her with me ever since."

"Mister Giles, this could be extremely helpful," Nigel declared as he handed Giles his now-cooled cup of tea.

"Or, extremely dangerous." Nigel looked up as if just now realizing that Prudence was in the room. Pulling her robe more securely around her, she came over to stand beside her husband. She gave Giles a grave look and added, "If something should happen to her in another dimension, it could effect you adversely."

"You mean, kill him, don't you?" Dawn said flatly.

Nigel said honestly, "We don't know. This is unprecedented."

"Yes, it is. One more reason why I didn't mention it." Giles sipped his tea carefully and straightened his shoulders. "It felt as if she were fighting for her life, but there is nothing now except a sort of... connected... sensation." He winced as his muscles protested the movement. "And a bit of soreness."

"You should've told me," Dawn accused angrily.

"I'm sorry, Dawn. I didn't think it would be this... debilitating."

He drew her in for a reassuring hug, but she sat back, pulling away.

"Dawn?"

"You should've said."

"Dawn..."

Her voice rose alarmingly. "Giles, you could die from this! I've had enough people die around me already! It's not fair!"

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere."

"That's what Buffy said! That's what Mom said! You don't know! You can't promise! You can't!!" She jumped to her feet and ran to the center of the room, uncertain what to do next. She was shaking with fear and anger.

He reached for her as she fled, but instantly dropped his hand and his head, nodding sadly. "I'm sorry. You're right. I can't." He gave a heaving sob, fighting his emotional response to her rejection of him after the wonderful closeness of just a few minutes before. "No matter how I try, I can't. I'm sorry."

His ragged voice touched Dawn, and she turned, tears streaming down her face. "Don't promise me anything else, okay? Not unless you're sure you can keep it."

"Oh, Dawn," he said brokenly, and rose to engulf the terrified girl in his arms. "I never meant to frighten you. I only want to take care of you."

"I know," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt as she clung to him in terrified desperation. "I shouldn't yell at you. You're doing your best. Everything's just so weird, and you're all I've got left."

He rested his cheek against her hair. "Dawn, I will never leave you voluntarily. You know that."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I was so mean. Being mean to the only good guy in my stupid life... I shouldn't do that."

Nigel felt totally out of place as he watched the two survivors of the Hellmouth embrace. Prudence pulled him off the couch and led him away, her face serious. When they reached their room and closed the door, Nigel turned to her, not knowing exactly how to say what was on his mind.

Prudence said it for him. "We should contact Mister Travers."

He looked surprised, but nodded. "Yes. He needs to be aware of this new development."

"And of Dawn's fear of losing the only stable force in her life."

"Why should Travers be interested in Dawn?"

Prudence gave her husband a reassuring rub on the back. "Because if Giles doesn't succeed, Dawn may be our only hope of getting the Slayer back. We will have to look after Dawn if he is unable to do so."

Nigel contemplated that statement as they got into bed. Travers believed that Giles was unnecessary, once the full text of the ritual had been discovered. Seeing the depth of their connection, Nigel wasn't so sure Travers was on the right track. If Giles were to become incapacitated, then there was a good possibility that the Slayer would remain in her dimensional exile, and the world would be without a Slayer. He wasn't sure of all the facts, but he did know one thing.

Prudence was quite correct. Travers knew Dawn had a part to play in accomplishing their purpose. An unknown, untried part, but they couldn't afford to overlook any details at this point. If something happened to the older man, the girl might be their only link to the Slayer lost in another dimension.

He hated basing the fate of the World on speculation, but fervently hoped the older Watcher had the stamina to survive until that purpose was fulfilled.

********

"You never told me about this!!" The petite blonde screamed into the purple sky above her, one fist clenched in anger. "This wasn't part of the deal!"

Silence answered her, and she threw down the broadsword she'd used to defend the citadel against the demonic hordes that had attacked it. One of the beings she'd been sent to defend ran to her side and reverently picked up the weapon, using the hem of its robe to wipe the gore from its blade. She really couldn't tell the males from the females, and she wasn't exactly sure that they even had male and females. She was barely able to distinguish one creature from the other. And names? Forget it.

She gave a heaving sigh that almost turned into a sob. Whistler and his so-called Powers That Be never told her the connection between this reality and home would transmit her pain, and that her poor husband would be sharing that pain through her. She could feel him, still reeling from the effects of her fierce battle.

It wasn't fair. He'd already been through so much, and now...

"The connection was your idea, kid. You didn't really give us time to explain."

She refused to look at Whistler, instead turning her fuming gaze to her arms and chest. Despite the strangely shaped armor she'd been given, she was bleeding from a half-dozen wounds. That meant Rupert was hurting, too. She just didn't know how much.

Giles would've probably recognized this scenario from some ancient writings, like the Iliad, or something. Prove to the Gods that you're worthy, kill all the monsters, answer all the riddles, and you get the prize - you get to go home. Except the prize wouldn't be worth much if the main reason you wanted to go home died before you got back.

It just wasn't fair.

"Okay, I killed the bad guys. Am I done now? Can I go?"

"Not yet."

"It figures. It's never enough with you guys."

"Hey, I would'a left you alone after the Angel thing, but noooo. Nobody listens to me. Not even you," he said pointedly.

"At least you could've tried to tell me," she said miserably, her body protesting as she turned back to the city.

Whistler gave her a sympathetic pat on the back. "C'mon, kid, let's get you cleaned up."

Buffy accepted her weapon from the subservient being that had cleaned it for her, and slid it back into its scabbard. As she started the long walk back to safety, she muttered, "What's next? Dragons?"

Whistler gave her a startled look. "Now that you mention it..."

"I had to ask."

The End