Archive of Our Own

"That was a bad one, wasn't it?"

Giles looked up to find Dawn wiping his face with a damp cloth. Rather than face his frightened charge, he closed his eyes again, letting the soothing coolness calm him for a moment. It surprised him to realize he had no idea how long he'd been unresponsive. It seemed like hours, but he rather expected it had been mere minutes. He was breathing like a marathon runner, almost to the point of hyperventilation. He slid his elbow back to rise, but decided against it. Movement was entirely too painful.

After about a dozen good gulps of air, he croaked, "Ah... good Lord... I do hope... Buffy fulfills... her mission... soon. These... incidents... are too... close together... for my liking."

Dawn smiled tightly and dabbed at his forehead again. "Me, too. Nigel was gone when you, um, crashed, and me and Prudence had a hard time getting you inside."

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry." He tried to sit up again, realizing he was on the sofa in the living room. "I'll try to... have my attacks... indoors in future. It should... make things... easier for you."

Dawn giggled. The sound had a hysterical quality to it. "Prudence said not to call her 'Mrs. Abernathy' anymore. She said 'dragging Mister Giles all round the garden constitutes a bonding experience'."

Giles had to chuckle at that, even though it hurt to do so. He finally managed to sit up and take a few aching breaths. "I'm so glad... you've bonded."

Dawn smiled again, less tensely. "She's okay. Even Nigel's kind of cool."

He smiled at her fondly, his breathing easing a bit. "I'm sorry you don't have... people your own age about."

"It's no big deal, Giles. I'm not exactly normal for people my age."

"True enough. You're actually... quite extraordinary."

The honest praise made the girl blush. She masked it by turning aside to the bowl of cool water and wetting the cloth again. She wrung it out carefully, and he allowed her the time without speaking. She was growing up so fast, but there was a shy, uncertain child still living inside her maturing body.

When she returned the cool washrag to his brow she had regained some of her composure. "Now I know what Buffy saw in you. You're a real sweet talker."

"She always said I didn't talk enough. Always trying to get me to 'open up'."

Dawn smiled sadly, but nodded. "Yeah, she was big on the communication thing... except when it came to her own stuff."

"Yes." He hoped when she returned they would both be more inclined to share. "We were a rather, um, dangerous pair, in that respect."

"And in the kicking-butt category, too. Big time tag-team action!"

He chuckled again, then coughed, relieved that he was actually able to do so without internal bleeding. Thirst had roughened his voice, and he swallowed with difficulty before asking, "Ah... my throat is a bit dry. Would you mind..."

Before he could finish, Dawn hopped up and grabbed the bowl of water, deciding that if he was well enough to drink tea, he would probably live. "...making you some tea? No problem. Coming right up."

She disappeared into the kitchen, and he sat up as straight as he could, looking around for his research companions. Just as he was going to attempt to stand, Prudence came into the room, looking grim.

"Ah, so you've recovered... again," she said cautiously.

"Somewhat. I'm inclined to delve further into the Heigel theory, based on our most recent discoveries. What do you think?"

She came over to the sofa and lowered her voice to keep Dawn from hearing. "Sir, we must do something about these attacks. You can't take much more of this... it's tearing you apart... quite literally."

"Have a little faith." Giles gave the young woman a gentle smile. "There has to be a reason, a purpose, behind all this. I can't believe the Powers would allow this extraordinary connection if it would ultimately serve to defeat their purpose."

"And what is their purpose, Mister Giles?" Prudence retorted hotly. Giles shushed her with a sharp gesture, nodding to the kitchen, and she continued in a softer, but still intense tone, "How can you presume to know what they mean for the future?"

"Because of what Buffy said when she came to me... about the Powers offering a her second chance at life if she fulfilled their purpose, whatever it was. If she succeeds, she will come back to us, alive... intact... fully Buffy once more. When she accepted the task, this connection was given as a promise... a down payment, of a sort. To sever it now... she would feel the loss instantly. If she failed because of that, her task would be incomplete, and their purpose thwarted."

"I don't mean to be unkind, sir, but you put a great deal of stock in this connection of yours, and in Buffy's desire to fulfill her mission."

"I do, indeed." He said firmly. "Buffy fights with her heart, you see. It 's what makes her such a formidable Slayer. I'm quite sure she senses me, much as I sense her. I would hope it to be an encouragement."

"But what if she is critically injured, or even... dies... in the process, despite her extraordinary will? What then?"

Giles' face remained calm. "I imagine the loss of the connection would have an adverse effect on me. At any rate, the Council would have its new Slayer, and I would be free of this tiresome research." He managed to hide his emotional reaction to the thought, but added softly, "We would both be free."

"I can't believe you guys!" Dawn snapped, coming up from behind and surprising them both. "All you talk about is death and doom!"

"Sorry, we didn't hear you come in." Giles looked up at her appealingly, trying to subtly shift the direction of conversation. "Ah... where is the tea?"

"Nope, no subject-changing. Are all grownups totally gross?"

"Being a grownup can be quite tedious. As a matter of fact, I'm tired of being all grown up and mature. I think I shall revert to my childhood, and let you be the adult. I'm sure you'll be very good at it."

Prudence and Dawn both gaped at Giles, wondering what on earth had gotten into him.

"You? A kid? You gotta be joking!" she blurted in disbelief.

"No, I've quite made up my mind. I'm going back to being eight years old."

"This I'd like to see. Are you gonna play army in the back yard?"

"The entire day. You shall have to call me in for supper."

Prudence noted that the girl was edging closer, relaxing as the light-hearted banter eased her angry mood.

"And make you wash your hands and face."

He chuckled. "Yes, and send me to bed on time."

"And tuck you in, and tell you bedtime stories," she agreed with a reluctant smile.

"And check to make sure there are no monsters under the bed."

Her face fell. "I wish I didn't know there were monsters. I wish they were make-believe, 'cause then I could make them go away."

Complete understanding plain in his eyes, he raised an hand towards her, and she came to his side and sat, curling up against him for comfort. He wrapped a long arm around her and rested his cheek on her head... a gesture Prudence found increasingly familiar. Rupert Giles would've made an outstanding father, she thought sadly.

"Pru?" Giles' muted voice brought her back to reality.

"Yes, sir?"

"Dawn was preparing a tray in the kitchen... would you mind?"

"Of course not." Prudence scurried into the other room and found Dawn's tea and cookies waiting. She'd forgotten them after overhearing their morose conversation. She ferried the snack into the living room and laid it down close to them on the coffee table. Somehow, without dislodging Dawn, Giles managed to pour a cup, add a few cubes of sugar, and hand it to the emotionally drained girl. She sipped gratefully as he maneuvered another cup to his own lips. Prudence joined them, unable to think of a single comforting thing to say.

********

"He's lying to us."

The small gray-faced Moderator gave Buffy a startled look. "Juwatt-So is a Sovereign! He cannot lie, it is forbidden!"

"He's lying, gang. He wouldn't look me in the eye, and he couldn't get outta there fast enough. And he had all those snoopy advisors looking in every corner of the building. He's gonna double-cross us." She didn't go into the real reason... the fact that her 'Spidey Senses' went vibrating off the scale the moment the delegation from the Realm of Darkness came near her. The Dark guy was bad news.

One of the other ruling council members leaned forward across the table, staring at Buffy in desperation. "What can we do? We must proceed with the exchange. It is forbidden to break an agreement."

"Oh, right, and I guess it's okay if the other guy LIES about his part, so long as you do what you promised."

The other-dimension guys fell into instant arguing, some of them agreeing, some adamantly opposed to casting any doubt on the ruler of a realm. After listening to the cacophony for a few minutes, she held up a hand, and the Moderator of the discussion slammed his big round rock against the table with a resounding bang. Silence fell instantly.

"Okay, I'm not saying you should give up centuries of honorable tradition, just because this joker is a bad ruler." She rose from the table, unconsciously mimicking Giles' three step pacing pattern. "I just think you should be prepared for him to cheat. After all, we took over three hundred of his troops prisoner in the last couple of battles, and we killed the demon ninjas that was trying to assassinate your Sovereign. He's probably a little upset with us right now."

She turned and stared at the leaders of the Realm of Light, wondering how such total softies managed to not get conquered before now. "Do you know how many of your people are missing?"

One of the soldier beings, the one she mentally called Mister Rogers because he was so soft spoken and polite, stood with a roster in his hand. "If you please, My Lady, we have roughly the same number of prisoners as they do... three hundred and twenty three, all with families."

"Thanks."

The soldier nodded and returned to his chair.

The Moderator added hesitantly, "It is not our custom to keep prisoners of war, My Lady. It is forbidden..."

"Yeah, I get that. Okay. We need to make an exchange, but we also need to be sure Ju-jitsu keeps all his cards on the table."

The confused faces made her sigh. They caught on quickly to her mangling of their names, but all her good metaphors were lost on this bunch. "We need to be sure he isn't planning something sneaky."

Slight understanding began to creep over the gray faces around the table.

"We go ahead with the exchange, but we need to have a backup plan. If your planning guys can come up with one quickly, we just might survive this truce."

The beings looked to the Moderator, who again struck the table with his rock. They scattered from the room like rats leaving a sinking ship... not the most comforting of similes, as far as Buffy was concerned.

********

"Giles?"

"Hmm?"

The girl fell silent, swinging her feet from her perch on the garden wall. Below her, her guardian was lying sprawled out on a wooden bench with his sleeves rolled past his elbows, enjoying the sunshine. The little garden was peaceful and cheery... just the thing they both needed after all they'd been through.

With Nigel and Prudence gone to town for supplies, Dawn and Giles spent the afternoon outdoors, piddling with the flowers and vegetables without any particular goal in mind. Several times Dawn started to ask Giles something, but always chickened out before she could say it.

He decided to give her a bit of encouragement. "Dawn, you won't offend me by speaking your mind. I've had good practice at being the target of such declarations." He smiled up at her as he slid around to a sitting position so he could see her more clearly.

"Okay. I just don't wanna sound nosey and rude."

"Not at all."

"It's just that... well, you told me your Mom died about a year ago."

"Yes."

She burst out, "Why didn't you go home when you found out she was that sick? Before she died, you could have gone home. I mean, she was your MOM!" She looked away, fighting tears. She absolutely insisted on being there, at the hospital, when her mother was having brain surgery, and then after, even though it was horrible and scary.

He looked away, scanning the plants with unseeing eyes. The remembrance of that horrible time brought with it a great deal of pain. Buffy's friends had been fighting amongst themselves, thanks to Spike's interference, and Buffy had all but ruled Giles out as an ally. He was so very thankful that they had gotten past all the chaos and strengthened their ties to one another. They weren't friends or family, these children he'd come to love. No, they were something dearer.

Just when he thought all had been sorted out, a phone call from England had brought his world crashing down around his ears once more. He did the only thing he could do... he stayed with Buffy, lending his mental prowess to the amalgam of power that ultimately defeated the Initiative's rogue Frankenstein. As befitted his training and destiny, he shelved his own personal feelings to save the world and support his Slayer.

The true horror of his decision crashed down on him that very evening. Nearly crazy with grief, he had allowed Spike's carefully crafted accusations to whittle his self-confidence down to something that was lost in the bottom of a bottle.

He never told any of the group about his family troubles... until now.

Finally, he said softly, "Dawn, I never knew she was ill. Sickness was not something my family discussed or shared with one another. I received a call from one of her neighbors informing me that she had died... it was just before we faced Adam in the Initiative Headquarters. It was impossible for me to go."

"Oh, man. Harsh." She hopped down and sat beside him on the bench. She knew how important his contribution was. He had literally become the 'brains' of the super-Slayer they had created by magic. She accepted his reason, but something still bothered her. She thought about all the time they'd spent on legal matters... mundane things that wouldn't go away just because it was a bad time to deal. She gave him a shy smile, and continued, "But didn't you have stuff you had to take care of? Like a house and stuff like that?"

"There was some 'stuff'," he said distantly. "But I managed to sort it out by telephone."

She sighed, still in doubt. "But, you could have gone and done whatever you needed to do... saw friends and family and stuff. Nobody here would've griped about it. We would've understood."

He sat quietly, warring with himself about whether to tell the child the truth. Finally, he decided she'd been kept in the dark quite enough for one lifetime. "Dawn... to be frank, at that time, if I had gone to England, I might not have returned."

She seemed startled. "You mean you wanted to leave us? Leave Sunnydale? But, why?" Her face turned thoughtful. "Well, besides all the death and despair and Buffy pretending you didn't exist for like a whole year."

He gave a half-laugh and pulled her in for a hug. "I think the death, despair, and isolation were my main reasons for considering it. I felt Buffy just didn't need my help. She had other resources... Willow, for instance, could easily have taken over the research and casting. Even after we defeated Adam, I wasn't sure she needed me. I felt... superfluous."

She winced at the big word, and then declared, "She needed you. She was just to dumb to admit it."

"I was a bit... dumb... myself." He thought about the way they'd gotten together... the result of vampiric thrall. He had often wondered if they would have ever admitted their feelings without it. "After the incident with Dracula we... talked... a bit. Straightened some things out." He allowed himself a smile at the memory of how they'd 'talked' that night.

"Sorry I brought it up, Giles, but it was bugging me." She returned his hug with one arm around his back. "I'm too nosy for my own good, sometimes."

"It's all right," he said, and was surprised to realize that it was.

They sat there in comfortable silence until they heard Nigel's car in the driveway, then Giles helped Dawn to her feet and they went back inside.

The moment they disappeared, a strange man in a dark suit stepped around the wall, keeping to the shadows, and raised a cellular phone to his mouth. "It takes Abernathy at least two hours to drive to town and back, sir. Plenty of time to accomplish our task."

The digitized voice in the tiny instrument replied, "Excellent. Make sure everything is prepared. Rupert is cunning and resourceful. We must be absolutely sure of ourselves."

"Understood." The man broke the connection and lowered the phone, the sun catching the emblem on his pinky ring and flashing off the insignia set in the onyx stone. It was the unmistakable mark of a Watcher. He pocketed the small device and started for his car, smirking at the thought of Travers' reaction once he realizes he has been duped. The Councilman had grown fat and lazy, unable to make the hard decisions that were required in the fight against evil.

The time has come for us to return to the service of the Slayer. Of course, the Council must go through some changes in personnel before that can happen.

The man got in his car and drove away, contemplating the irony of using one of Rupert Giles' former associates as the instrument of Travers' downfall. It was a well-known fact that Quentin and Rupert barely tolerated one another.

Quentin Travers may be calling the shots, but it was Jarrod Blackstone who would soon be pulling the strings.

********

Inside Watcher Headquarters, sequestered away in the oldest and darkest rooms in London, Quentin Travers sat behind his huge cherry wood desk and thought about how his plans were progressing.

At the moment, he was immensely pleased with himself.

He'd managed to keep the Abernathys under his thumb without too much trouble. Rupert's trust in him, albeit warily given, was growing daily. The ex-Watcher (for Travers still considered him as such, despite his reinstatement) was letting his guard down, falling completely into the task of restoring his Slayer, unaware of Travers' ultimate goal.

Travers was sure that if Rupert knew his plans, he would not willingly assist in that goal.

A knock at the huge door brought the Councilman out of his reverie. "Come," he snapped, and the door opened to reveal Jarrod Blackstone, Travers' spy in the field. "Hello, Jarrod. How are things progressing?"

"Quite well, sir. I've come to collect our secret weapon." The effort to call Travers 'sir' was barely disguised on Blackstone's face. Deep into self-congratulation, Travers completely missed the look of contempt on the younger man's face.

Travers picked up his telephone and made a short call. Five minutes later, two burly Watchers escorted a slender, gaunt-faced man into the room, holding him like he was extremely dangerous. In point of fact, he was.

"Ah, Ethan! Come, sit!" Travers slid to his feet and casually strolled across the room to the bar. "A drink, perhaps? Something a bit more bracing than the distilled water the U. S. Military fed you while you were vacationing in... Nevada, was it?" He paused, glass in hand, and waited for the man to reply.

Ethan smirked and said snippily, "I'm not sure I want to drink with you at all. We haven't been properly introduced."

Quentin seemed amused. "Quite right." He strode forward and extended his hand, appearing completely at ease. "Quentin Travers, head of Security for the Royal Council of Watchers, at your service."

When Ethan didn't take the hand, Quentin smiled and returned to the bar. He continued in the same conversational tone, "You, of course, need no introduction. You are Ethan Rayne, sorcerer, one time associate of young Rupert Giles, known at that time as Ripper. Just before he was returned to the Council, you did everything in your power to destroy him, even to the point of allowing a demon you had summoned to brutally murder one of Rupert' s close friends. You worship Chaos, defy authority at every opportunity, and have never turned down an opportunity to perform some dark deed that harms the innocent and creates mayhem in the streets. You consort with demons and various other... ah... persona non grata.

"Your old friend Rupert has thwarted many of your schemes over the years, with the help of his Slayer, Buffy Summers. You've turned children into monsters on Halloween, attempted to feed babies to Lurconis, and turned Rupert into a Fyarl demon. I must admit the latter was my personal favorite." Travers chuckled shortly, then continued. "You have a price on your head, Mister Rayne, both here and abroad. Five separate death contracts have been taken out on you, to date. That has to be somewhat of a record."

Ethan watched the older man carefully, looking for a sign of weakness. The guards could be fooled... they were merely henchmen. But this old devil wasn't so naïve. Ethan was fairly certain there were other safeguards in place... safeguards of a mystical kind. Some of those could be quite nasty when breached.

He slumped comfortably in the leather chair, feigning nonchalance, and commented, "I see you've done quite a bit of research on me. I don't know whether to be flattered or incensed."

"Oh, yes, we know a great deal about you. Including your price." Travers whirled suddenly and stepped right up to Ethan, staring down at him with piercing eyes. "We have a job for you. If you perform successfully, you will be free. All contracts will be cancelled. All debts, mystical and monetary, will be covered. You will be given passage to any country in the world, with the stipulation you will never return to England. You will also be well paid."

Ethan's eyes brightened slightly as the offer was being made. When Travers had finished, he sat up a little straighter, a more genuine smile on his face. "That is a very interesting offer, Mister Travers. Suffice it to say I'm interested. Of course, the final decision must be made AFTER I've heard what my task might be."

"I'd advise you to rethink that statement," Quentin said easily. "Because if you refuse, you will still be set free. Escorted to the front door, as a matter of fact. There are at least two of your, ahem, unsatisfied customers waiting for you across the street. They believe themselves to be hidden, but we spotted them straight away. One of them appears to be a Gorash demon. I believe you cheated him at cards. Very unwise."

Ethan's face paled, and he swallowed convulsively. After a short pause, he nodded. "All right, I accept. You've made me an offer I can't refuse. What do you want me to do?"

Travers' eyes glittered with satisfaction, and he handed Ethan a generous glass of brandy. "It's quite simple, really. You will go with Mister Blackstone..." He indicated the thin, dark-haired Watcher with a wave of his hand. "... and do whatever he says without question."

Blackstone's eyes glinted as Ethan recognized the famous surname. He gave the sorcerer a small smile and said, "Come with me, Mister Rayne. We want you to build a cage."

********

Meditation had never been one of Giles' strong suits, although training Buffy had heightened his abilities a great deal. After her death, meditation was the only thing that kept him sane as he waded through his own misery and tried to keep Dawn from falling into her own despair.

Tonight, however, he was nervous, as though something was pricking the periphery of his awareness, begging to be noticed. He'd tried a drink, he'd tried a soothing tea... he'd tried reading, but nothing would allow him to relax and go to sleep. After his drink, he was afraid to try the sleeping pills the doctor had given him after Buffy's funeral. Nothing would be more horrible than to accidentally overdose and have Dawn find him in the morning.

So, he began the controlled breathing that prepared him for deep meditation. He arranged himself in the middle of his bed; legs crossed, hands on his knees, and began reciting the Seventeen Steps to Peace. He had reached number ten when he was suddenly elsewhere.

Instead of the soft colors and sounds that usually accompanied a self-induced trance, he was thrown into a raging battle. Unfamiliar colors, strange voices, and the smell of close combat assailed his senses. He forgot his meditation and concentrated solely on keeping his sanity as he watched the fighting through the eyes of another person. After only a few seconds, he recognized the fighting style and knew it must be Buffy.

She was alternately grunting and crying out, as weapons struck her armor and she retaliated with all of her Slayer strength. Her fighting style had always been poetry in motion to him... he never tired of watching her train... but this was incredible. She was moving so fast he could barely comprehend it, turning, leaping, twisting, parrying, and jabbing with supernatural speed and ease. He felt a surge of pride to realize that the techniques he had taught her were still keeping her alive, even in this unfamiliar dimension.

He was startled as she did an abrupt about-face and thrust her axe into the air. He felt a jolt as something airborne gashed itself on the blade. Good Lord, she's fighting a dragon! He thought as he felt the impact travel the length of her body.

After what seemed like an hour, he could sense she was tiring, but she never slowed her pace, whirling too fast for her opponents to take her by surprise. As she fought, she interspersed her battle cries with a running commentary that was so much a part of her that his heart nearly broke.

"I warned them..." Crack! "I said, 'He's lying through his teeth.' Nobody believed me." She gave a triumphant yell as her foe fell, then leaped its body and faced off with the next opponent. "They said, 'He can't lie! It's forbidden!'" Metallic clashes muffled her next words, but he heard, "'You can't trust this League of Darkness guy,' I said." The whistle of an axe followed, along with a growl of effort. "'He'll pretend to keep his promise, then double-cross you when your guard's down,' I said. But did they listen to me?" The multi-colored dragon gave a dying hiss and collapsed in front of the tired Slayer, minus its head. "Heck, no, they didn't, and poof! The bad guys sic a dragon on us!"

She heard a slight noise and whirled to confront something behind her, stopping when she saw that it was one of her allies. She scanned the area for more enemies, and saw that her forces had been victorious. Only the red-garbed warriors of the Realm of Light were still standing in the great hall where the exchange should have taken place. Instead of bringing prisoners of war to exchange, the Sovereign of Darkness had sent his elite storm troopers to take over the good guys' palace. Luckily, Buffy had convinced her allies to prepare for such deception, and the day had been saved, although not without cost. Many of her allies were dead or hurt... most of them from dragon-related injuries. Even if it was a small one... still... a dragon!

Her shoulders slumped and the weapon fell to her side as she let out a sigh of exhaustion. She turned to the small group of council members, who had been cowering in a corner during the entire fight, and gave them a stern glare. "After this, maybe you'll listen to me a little more, huh?"

"Y-y-yes, My Lady! We will, My Lady!" the Moderator babbled, looking at her like she was an Oracle from Above.

"Good. We should be able to avoid having a battle right in the middle of your meeting room, then." She eyed the huge corpse in front of her with disgust, then announced, "I am sooo not cleaning up dragon guts, folks, sorry. I slay 'em, I don't bury 'em."

Suddenly, Giles felt a pulling sensation, and for a brief moment he found himself separate from her, taking in her bedraggled look. His hungry eyes feasted on her, memorizing every detail, her hair, her face, dirty as they were. His heart jumped to life inside him, because until now, it had been hard to believe she could truly come back to him. Now, seeing her standing there, his faith was renewed.

She must have been unaware of his change in perspective, for she never looked up as she declared firmly, "Just remember this: Always watch your back."

Before he could respond, reality reasserted itself with a sickening crunch. He awoke to find himself flat of his back on the bed staring at the ceiling. He was shaking with reaction, his body aching and tired, but he wasn't in terrible pain. Usually, these intermittent flashes were horridly painful. This was something new.

Perhaps the connection was augmented by his trance-like state. At first, it was as if she was not aware of his presence, or was too preoccupied to acknowledge it. The encounter left him with strong sense of dread that almost seemed prophetic. He rolled to his side, still too weak to sit up, and concentrated on remembering as many details as he could before his mind locked them away in his subconscious. Once he regained his strength, he would write them down.

Despite his best efforts, he fell asleep shortly after. The only thing that followed him into his dreams was the sound of Buffy's voice. It was a warning, he was sure of it.

Always watch your back.

It sounded like good advice.

********

The Watchers and Dawn rose early to visit London for a day of sightseeing, and the girl had barely slept the night before in her excitement. It was the first major outing for the group since Dawn had joined them, and she was almost beside herself as Nigel drove away from their little cottage. Prudence was beside him in the front, with Giles and Dawn in the back. Now that they were away, she was peppering Giles with questions faster than he could answer them, although he was doing his best.

"Is LA bigger than London? 'Cause LA is really big. I bet London is almost as big as LA, even if it is old. It is old, right? I mean, like historical old, not just dilapidated old."

"It is a large city, and very old, although it has its neglected areas, as large, old cities often do."

"Oh. Well, I don't wanna see a bunch of grungy streets, if that's okay, even if they are in London. No offense."

"It's all right. We won't be visiting any of those areas."

"Good. The sightseeing thing will be enough for me. And shopping... ooh, can we shop? Does London have shops?"

Giles and his companions had to chuckle at that. He patted her hand affectionately and soothed, "Yes, there are shops. More than we can see in a day, a month, or even a year."

"Really? This is majorly cool. I have money from Dad the Jerk, and I wanna spend every penny."

"I might be able to help you with that, Dawn. I can show you some of my favorite places, if you like," Prudence offered as Nigel rolled his eyes. He hated shopping. He anticipated that he and Giles were going to be on their own quite a lot.

"Yeah, I like. Oh, and I wanna see famous places, too. Giles, you have to take my picture in front of something famous!"

"We'll make it a point," Giles agreed calmly.

Dawn bounced in her seat, reminding Giles instantly of Willow. The redhead had been so young and shy when they first met, but a few kind and encouraging words would bring out her innate enthusiasm for any kind of research. He wondered with a sudden pang of guilt how she and the others were doing on the Hellmouth without his presence. Without Buffy's presence.

"Giles?"

"Yes?"

Dawn gave him a longsuffering look. "You went away there for a minute. I was talking to you for, like, five minutes, and you were in La-La Land. I shoulda asked you for your credit card while you weren't paying attention."

He laughed softly. "I was wondering how things were going back in Sunnydale."

"You mean, if everyone's okay?"

He smiled. She knew him well. "Yes. Perhaps we should call them soon and check up things."

"You just wanna make sure Anya hasn't sold your store out from under you."

Nigel snorted a laugh at that, and Giles said airily, "She wouldn't dare. She would lose that overly generous salary I'm paying her."

"Yeah, but she's darn good at running things, you have to admit."

"I'll grant you that, but it would be advantageous if she..."

A shriek from Prudence brought the conversation to a halt as Nigel swerved and braked wildly, avoiding something in front of them. The car skidded all over the narrow paved road, which was thankfully deserted at that early hour, before finally stalling out several hundred yards from where it started.

When they finally slid to a stop, Giles craned his neck to look back at what had caused Nigel to react so strongly. When he realized what it was, he was stunned.

"Good Lord, Nigel, that's a Vahrall demon," he blurted.

"Oh, eww," Dawn breathed, trying not to gag. The thing was horribly ugly, even from some distance away.

"I did recognize it." Nigel snapped, as he frantically trying to get the car to start. The slick green creature stalked towards them, moving boldly down the center of the road in broad daylight. Vahralls were known to be sewer dwellers. It took mighty serious motivation for a Vahrall to be seen above ground. Apparently, the motivation was there, for it was joined by another, then a third, all of them marching towards the car.

Giles began to fear for Dawn's safety. One Vahrall was a challenge. Three was an impossibility. Unless, of course, you were with a Slayer...

His gut clenched with sorrow as he hissed, "Nigel! We must..."

"I know, I know!"

Prudence scrabbled in her purse, finding only a few small knives and a bottle of holy water. "I'm afraid I'm woefully unprepared, Mister Giles." Her voice was shaking, despite her calm words.

"So am I," Giles agreed. "Our real weapons are in the boot."

Before anyone could move, Prudence threw open her door and ran around to the rear of the car, ignoring Nigel's cry of protest. She had her key in her hand and the trunk open while the creatures were still a fair distance away, grabbing several crossbows and the swords that Nigel and Giles favored so much.

Before she could turn back to the passengers, Giles was at her side, gathering more supplies. He somehow managed to load his crossbow while passing another one to Nigel. As he worked, he spotted Dawn's frightened face in the rear window, and he hissed, "Dawn! Get down between the seats and stay there!"

He turned, braced himself, and aimed at the closest Vahrall. The crossbow bolt buried itself in the creature's chest with a satisfying twang, but it howled and continued to lurch forward, ignoring the protruding shaft. Stupid man, he berated himself. At least you could've aimed for the forehead! He began reloading, wishing he'd had the forethought to bring a weapon that was quicker to arm. Perhaps a double-barreled shotgun...

The Vahralls were almost on them when the flooded engine flared to life and Nigel shouted, "Get in!"

Prudence complied, dragging Giles from his battle stance into a staggering run, and they jumped into the rear seat as the lead demon smashed both fists down on the back of the car. Nigel burned rubber, leaving the trio of monsters in a rank cloud of smoke. Giles breathed a sigh of relief as they watched the creatures disappearing behind them. Vahralls were strong, but relatively slow.

They were several harrowing miles away before anyone spoke. Finally Dawn's plaintive voice rose from the floorboards. "Can I get up now? I'm getting a cramp."

Prudence, awkwardly sprawled across Giles lap, added with giddy sarcasm, "So am I!"

Giles, not to be outdone, helped the young woman to a sitting position, then frowned down at himself. "My leg's gone numb."

"Mister Giles! Are you saying I'm too heavy?"

"I'm simply saying my leg's gone numb." He gave her his most innocent look, which only made Prudence give him an offended glare.

"Giles! Move your numb leg so I can get up!" Dawn commanded, and they burst into hysterical laughter, finally allowing the tension to drain away. Nigel slowed to a more acceptable speed as Giles and the two girls turned to examine the back of the car from the rear window. The trunk was completely caved in, showing two huge dents from the demon's fists.

"Nigel, does your insurance cover demon damage?" Dawn asked without turning around.

"It bloody well better," he answered grumpily. He was quite fond of his car.

Dawn turned back and sat down, staring at Giles. Since they were all three in the back, he was sandwiched between the two women, and he was beginning to look uncomfortable. She smirked at him, her particular brand of sarcasm coming to the fore as she asked, "Okay, Giles, what did you do to honk off the demons this time?"

He straightened and said stuffily, "I'm sure I have no idea."

Nigel didn't chuckle at Dawn's humor. He had a pretty good idea why the demons had set upon them, and it was an entirely sobering thought.

After all, a world without a Slayer was a demon's picnic. Said demons would not look kindly on any attempts to change that status.

********

"Now, Rupert, let's not be tiresome."

"The entire idea is tiresome, Quentin. I'm merely responding in an appropriate manner."

Travers ground his teeth and swallowed a scathing reply. He clenched his free hand into a fist to keep from pounding the table. This threw a spanner in the works... he'd counted on the secluded cottage being the site of Rupert's... detainment. No witnesses that way. But no, the man had to somehow attract the attention of the most relentless warrior demons in the underworld. The only solution, if he still wanted the man alive, was to bring the entire lot to Watcher headquarters and keep them under 'protective custody.' Nigel would see right through that at once, but he could be handled.

Prudence might pose a bit of a problem, but she would fall in line the moment Nigel did. Perhaps his plan wasn't a total loss, after all. At least, this way, he wouldn't have to pay the Special Ops team for extra mileage.

On the other end of the telephone, Giles' irritatingly calm voice continued.

"I simply don't see the advantage of trading one highly defensible position for one in a crowded downtown building. At least here we can see what's coming."

"Yes, I'm sure. Is that why you fared so well during the last attack? By the way... how's the eye?"

He fought a chuckle as Giles almost snarled his reply.

"It's fine. We were able to repel the Vahralls, weren't we? Not like your city-bred, pet Watchers. They wouldn't know what to do with a demon if they had an instruction manual, and you know it!"

Just a little more prodding... Travers could tell Giles was weakening. The man was inordinately loyal to his little charge, and ultimately he would comply. Then things would fall nicely into place.

"Be reasonable. Think of Dawn. Demons have attacked the house three times in as many days! Sooner or later, they will catch you off guard. You cannot stay awake twenty-four hours a day, Rupert, and even with Nigel and Prudence backing you up, you will eventually be overpowered. Vahralls may be slow, but they're tenacious."

"Yes, I know." The first sign of conciliation was a deep, heartfelt sigh from the other end of the line. Travers almost crowed... then tensed again as Giles continued. "Send us some backup, then. I still think we'd be better off where we are."

"Rupert... I can send you two, perhaps three of my experienced men. That is all. If you were to come to London, you would have the protection of the Council wards, the Mages, and at least twenty Watchers, most of them past the third stage of their training. Consolidation of forces, Rupert. It makes perfect sense."

"Yes, that's what I'm afraid of." Sarcasm dripped from Giles' voice, and Travers gritted his teeth again. Patience, Quentin, he told himself. He' ll be in your hands soon enough.

"The demon world doesn't want you to succeed in opening a portal to save the Slayer," Travers said grimly. "They can feel the link... the magic is drawing them to you. They won't stop until they've succeeded, or until every Vahrall on the face of the earth has been destroyed. You know this, Rupert! Think of Dawn!"

"I have done little else since I arrived, Quentin."

"It's for her own good, as well as yours. You must rest soon, or you will soon cease to be effective."

Giles was sure that his personal well-being was not Quentin's main concern, but it did make sense. The Council could ill afford to split their resources down the middle to protect both the cottage and Headquarters. He acknowledged that Headquarters must be protected at all costs, for the power center of the Watchers' organization resided there. He also knew that the world needed a Slayer, and that he and Dawn had the best chance of making that happen.

It made perfect sense, but his intuition was vibrating like a tuning fork. He knew he had to protect Dawn, but he also knew he did not trust Quentin Travers. Still a decision had to be made.

"All right. We'll come. You'd best send your strongest men, though. When we try to leave the cottage, all Hell will break loose."

"I'll have a task force assembled by mid-morning. You'll see, Rupert. It will be best for us all."

"I certainly hope so."

Travers rang off, feeling childishly giddy. Tomorrow, he'd have Rupert at his mercy. Soon, the returned Slayer would be at his command. That would make it all worthwhile.

********

The battered group moved to London the next morning, under the watchful eye of Travers' Special Ops team. The four of them piled into a long, black moving van, boxes and all. They even drove Nigel's little car into the back and secured it completely. The burly men went about their business with complete seriousness, not even smiling as Dawn brought them a snack at lunch.

To her, they looked like pro wrestlers in three-piece suits. She tried to imagine Chris Rock in tweed, but succumbed to a fit of giggles that made the men frown at her in confusion. She resolved to tell Giles later, just to make him laugh. He hadn't been doing too much laughing lately, and she missed the sound. Once they were packed, the driver muttered a protection spell and they drove away.

They were led and followed by carloads of armed Watchers. It was totally weird, from Dawn's perspective. Surreal. It was like they were being arrested, or something. She mentioned that to Giles, and he hugged her briefly, but didn't comment. The journey to London was made in nervous silence. To Giles' surprise, the protective wards did their jobs, and soon they were pulling into the gate surrounding the Council Compound.

As if the imposing granite face of the Watcher's Building wasn't daunting enough, when their truck arrived, they were greeted by a dozen armed watchers, who escorted them into the back of the building like hostages from a foiled bank robbery. Once they were inside, Giles snapped at the guards for the rough treatment, but the men just just shrugged their shoulders and mumbled something about security.

After being taken to their assigned rooms, they quickly unpacked and met in the library. The demon attacks had severely hampered their research while they were at the cottage, so they settled down to work, not knowing that they had played right into Quentin Travers' hands.

********

It didn't take Dawn long to become bored with research. She was given permission to explore so long as she did not leave the grounds. As she wandered the paneled halls, she thought about what Giles had told her about his parents. She wondered where Giles' dad was, and if he had a big stuffy office around one of those dark corners. Since he was a bigwig Watcher, he probably did. A few minutes into her wanderings, she came to a lounge area where several young men and women were drinking tea and chatting in hushed tones, and decided to be friendly.

She introduced herself as the former Slayer's sister, and they immediately began treating her as a member of royalty. Dawn wondered just what they were taught in this weird Watcher school... did they study big, dusty books all the time? Did they have to learn to cast spells? Maybe they had classes on making tea without the little bags. After a while, she became comfortable with the friendly group of students, and asked them if they knew Giles' father.

Their reaction was immediate. They all stood as one and bid her a polite 'good afternoon,' saying it was time to return to their classes, and that she was free to stay and drink all the tea she wanted.

It would've been kinda funny, if it hadn't been so scary. She wondered if Giles was as afraid of his father as those guys were. She decided to keep looking around until someone told her she couldn't. Maybe, if she did find Giles' father, she could ask him to say 'hi' to his son while they were here. Maybe it would make Giles smile, and that would be nice.

She headed off to explore, humming happily, while in the bowels of the oldest part of the Watchers' library, three dedicated researchers looked for a miracle.

********

Outside of the compound, a war was beginning.

The guards at the gates lost their impassive expressions when they saw the massive horde of demons approaching the compound. They quickly radioed Security Chief Travers, but were overwhelmed before help could arrive. Using sheer numbers, the columns of demonic soldiers breached the gates to batter at the doors and windows of the ancient building, succeeding with brute force where magic and finesse would have failed.

Within minutes, they were inside the main entry of the huge building, surprised at their easy victory. Their prize was close; the leaders could smell it. They sent their troops down every hall, searching for the one who had become their bitterest enemy. In order for demons to regain their rightful place on the earth, the one who dared resurrect the Slayer must be stopped.

They were determined. They were strong.

They were no match for Uzis. The first wave fell with bewildered howls. The leaders fell back, confused, and retreated to the outermost buildings. The Watchers were more formidable than they thought. It was time for plan B.

Travers watched the demons regroup on his closed-circuit surveillance system. The dozen monitors in front of him cast a blueish glow on his lined face. He was surprised when the creatures launched a frontal assault. It wasn't a wise course of action. Apparently, they had learned that lesson, for they were regrouping for another try.

Time to call in the heavy artillery.

He picked up his desk phone, only slightly shocked that it still worked. Another thing the demons hadn't thought of.

"Travers here. I'm sorry to disturb your meditation, but there's been a disturbance."

He listened carefully, nodding to himself as the person on the other end of the line gave concise instructions.

"Yes, sir. I will take care of it at once." He put his hand on the switch hook to break the connection and took a deep breath. He moved his hand again and dialed a number that only he and one other in the building was privy to. He waited until there was a sound at the other end before speaking softly. "There is a threat. Vahrall demons. Yes, I understand."

He hung up the receiver, more frightened than he'd ever been in his life.

He'd never called for assistance from the fires of Hell before.

He turned back to the monitors, noting with clinical detachment that the demons had begun their second attack. It didn't matter. Soon there would be nothing left of the massive army that had breached their walls.

As the seconds dragged into minutes, Travers began to be uneasy. The magic should have eliminated their enemies by now. Something was wrong. If the Mages did not intervene, he had serious doubts that they would emerge victorious. He nervously debated calling again, but he didn't have the nerve.

A sudden crash just outside his office convinced him to make a calculated retreat. He went through the secret entrance and started down the hall, the noise behind him telling him he was behind the line of action. He hadn't gone far before he spotted Rupert and the Abernathys, armed to the teeth, coming towards him with grim faces. Behind them, several other Watchers were scanning the halls for the enemy.

One of the men was Jarrod Blackstone. A slow burn of anger began in the pit of Travers' stomach and began radiating outward. Blackstone was to have lured Giles away from the others, so he could be captured easily. Instead, the subject was a free--and very well armed-- man.

Blackstone smiled at the spasming muscle on the side of Travers' face. He was enjoying this more than he should, he realized, but Travers really deserved this.

"The Vahralls have breached the wards, Quentin," Giles stated accusingly.

"I am aware. I have called for reinforcements."

Blackstone came to Giles' side and shook his head grimly. "They aren't being reinforced."

Surely the Mages would not allow the building to be taken, he thought with a stab of fear. "That's impossible!"

"Apparently not." The dark-haired Watcher peered behind Travers, watching for trouble. "The demons are inside the main hall again. The building has been breached in several places. We're fighting for our lives here."

"We have to fall back... find a protected area!" If the Mages aren't going to lend their assistance, then they can bloody well protect themselves! "Come this way."

"We have to find Dawn first," Giles declared firmly.

"Yes, of course. Jarrod, there is a room in the basement that is secure. Take all of them there. Once the wards are closed, we should be safe." He included Nigel and Prudence as he gave Blackstone his terse order.

Giles was shaking his head in the negative before Travers finished. "We're not going to hide while the rest of your people die. We've fought these creatures four times and survived. It's not wise for your most experienced warriors to hide!"

"Rupert, you are their target. You cannot be in the battle... if you are killed, then your Slayer remains trapped, and there will be no Calling."

A twang of a crossbow interrupted their conversation. From around the corner came the sound of fighting, growing louder and closer with each passing second.

"I believe the point just became moot," Giles said grimly. "Come on... we need a more defensible position." He ran down the hall, looking into doors, until he found what he wanted. "In here!"

Travers was out of his element. He was used to directing exercises from afar, not being in the thick of battle. He obeyed Giles without thinking, and the small group barricaded themselves inside the small office. Giles barked commands, setting up the three best marksmen on their knees in front of the door. He tossed a sword to Travers, grinning nastily at the older man's ashen face.

"Welcome to my world, Quentin," he said sarcastically, and then there was no more time for talking.

The door began to splinter. As soon as there was a clear opening, Prudence launched a bolt directly into the lead demon's forehead. It died with a horrible screech.

"Well done, Pru!" Giles shouted. "Remember! Aim for the forehead!"

Giles' strategy in choosing the small, windowless room was very effective. The large, clumsy Vahralls had to come through the opening one at a time, where they were easily targets for a crossbow bolt.

Despite his raging jealousy, Travers had to admire Rupert's calm. The man was in his element, obviously battle-hardened and confident. The others followed him without question.

There were several dead demons in front of them now. Each new attacker had to climb over the bodies to enter the room. Nigel wondered why they just didn't drag them back into the hall to clear the way. Perhaps that was too logical for a Vahrall.

The demons finally realized they wouldn't prevail unless they could attack on several fronts. From the walls on either side of them, they began to hear pounding.

"Mister Giles? These walls are fairly thick, but not impenetrable." Nigel wiped his dripping brow on his shirtsleeve, fear plain on his face. To his credit, he held his position, his bolt finding its mark as another attacker fell to the floor.

"I know. I wish I knew how many we were dealing with."

"At least two hundred," Travers supplied tiredly. "And that may be a conservative estimate."

The defenders paled. They would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers!

"We need a sorcerer!" one of the Watchers croaked.

"Yes, we do." Travers' stared at Giles for a long moment. Giles' eyes widened, and then he nodded.

"You will have to defend me, Quentin," he whispered. "I cannot cast without complete concentration."

"I know. We will defend you. Just do what you must." Travers couldn't believe his ears. He had just asked Rupert Giles for help. It went totally against the grain, but these were desperate times. How could he take over the Council if he were dead?

Giles nodded and began to move the desk, making a place in the center of the room for him to work. He had no chalk, no sand, no crystals... just his memory. He began to pull things from the desk drawers... pencils, scissors, a stapler... odds and ends that he used to make a circle. He wadded the paper into tight balls and placed them carefully between each object and the next.

Quentin was busy hacking the arms off creatures that had made holes in the wall beside the door when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Magic. He turned to see Rupert, cross-legged on the floor, his eyes blazing with green light. The wads of paper suddenly flared and caught fire, surrounding him with flames.

Good God in Heaven! He's more powerful than I ever imagined! Quentin thought in astonishment, and almost had his windpipe crushed for his inattention.

Behind him, Blackstone cried out as he was nearly gutted by sharp claws. He fell, his sword clattering to the floor, as the Vahrall stepped over him. Travers whirled and was confronted by the huge demon, its eyes shining from the battle. He froze. The demon took another step, his claws extended.

"Quentin! Shomen zuki! Chotatsu!"

Giles voice penetrated the haze of fear and Travers, reacting to the Japanese Aikido commands, punched the demon hard between the eyes. It staggered back, surprised that its easy prey had suddenly come to life. It snarled and reached down, grabbing Blackstone's sword with a pleased howl.

"Quentin! Remember your Tachi doris!"

Travers sidestepped, then stepped inside the demon's defenses and grabbed the monster's sword hand, snapping the wrist down so quickly that the weapon flew across the room, landing at Nigel's feet. The Watcher grabbed it, fired a one-handed, but perfectly aimed crossbow bolt at the intruder in front of him, and then tossed the sword back to Travers.

Surprising himself and the entire room, Travers caught it. He whirled and dealt his opponent with a glancing blow to the throat. He wasn't close enough for a killing blow, and the creature began flailing about in pain.

"Quentin! Ima!"

He stepped closer, and the sword flashed again. The demon's head rolled away from its body. Travers watched as the body fell, seemingly in slow motion, at his feet.

There was a rush of wind that filled the room, chilling him despite his being drenched in perspiration. He realized that Rupert had completed his spell, whatever it was. He only hoped it would be effective.

Behind him, Giles whispered, "Incendere."

Travers had the good sense to duck, as did the others. Since Vahralls didn' t speak Latin, they just stood there, confused.

One by one, they burst into flames, starting with the closest demon. When all the creatures in the room were nothing but pillars of fire, the spell moved out into the hall. They could hear shouts of relief and cries of torment as the magic blanketed the building.

Prudence lifted her head and sidestepped a still smoking pile of demon ash. She grimaced and threw her arms around Nigel with a sob of relief. "Are you all right?" she sobbed, unbuttoning his shirt to examine his chest. He was covered in superficial scratches.

Nigel managed to smile. "Nothing serious, love." She gave him a quick kiss before moving to Blackstone's side. He was in terrible shape. She set about to do what she could.

Travers carefully picked his way around the desk to Giles. The exhausted sorcerer... for he was a true sorcerer, in Travers' eyes... was laying on the floor, curled into a fetal position, shaking. "Rupert?" He knelt by the trembling man's side and reached out a tentative hand. "Are you all right?" He attempted to touch one shoulder, but the residual magic repelled his touch with a crackle of electricity. Travers sat back on his heels, his hand smarting. "I don't know how far your spell has reached... we must move to safety until we are sure all the demons are dead."

"They are all gone, Quentin." Giles' voice was raspy and thin. "That particular spell has a radius of over a kilometer."

"Good God." Travers was finally able to help Giles to his feet. "Can you stand?"

"In a moment." Giles' eyes still blazed a bright, unearthly green, but his face had regained some of its color. He shook his head to clear it, and his eyes faded to their normal jade. He looked around the room, not quite seeing it yet. "Is everyone all right?"

"Jarrod's been injured," Prudence said from the corner. She was using Blackstone's rolled up jacket to staunch the flow of blood.

Giles looked around the room, his eyes showing both fatigue and worry. "Dawn?"

"We haven't seen her since before the attack began," Nigel offered hesitantly.

"We have to find her." There was no ifs, ands, or buts to that statement.

They started out of the room, but Travers stopped Giles with a hand on his arm. "Rupert?"

"Yes?"

In front of the rest of his peers, Quentin Travers bowed formally from the waist. The deep gesture was a sign of respect. "Domo arigato gozaimas'ta."

Giles eyebrows rose slightly. There was true respect in Quentin's thanks. "Hai." He favored his old rival with a slight smile and an equally formal bow. "I must find Dawn," Giles reiterated as he straightened, and Travers nodded.

"You search the west wing, and I'll see if I can find anything on my monitors." Travers hoped his surveillance system was still intact. It would make finding the girl easier.

"Good thinking. Thank you." The two men went their separate ways, both intent on their search.

Giles came upon several groups of Watchers as they went about cleaning up the demon ash that blanketed the hall. None of them had seen the girl since the attack began. Fear began to tighten his throat as he entered the student dormitory area.

He stopped the first cadet he met and asked, "Have you seen a young girl wandering the halls? She was in this part of the building before the attack."

The young man just gave Giles a sorrowful look and shook his head. As Giles turned away, fighting tears, something touched his arm. He barely restrained himself from lashing out before realizing it was a human touch. A young woman, seemingly not much older than Dawn, shrank back at his expression.

"Cadet, please remember not to come up behind a trained Watcher in battle without speaking first... you could have been beheaded in the process."

Her eyes grew wide, but she nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir, but I thought the battle was over."

He gave her a tight smile. "Perhaps it is, but it will take a some time for my senses to realize that."

"Ah! Yes, sir. I shall remember. You were inquiring about the Slayer's sister?"

Instantly, he tensed up. "Yes, have you seen her? Brunette, slender, tall for her age? She's fifteen," he added unnecessarily.

The girl nodded again. "Yes, I saw her just before the attack. She was looking for the Director."

Giles smiled again, noting the typical cadet habit of referring to the top man by his title rather than his name. "Excellent... that is excellent, Cadet. Now, if you will excuse me..."

Another voice interrupted them, and Giles spun quickly at the sound. "You need look no further for your prodigal, Rupert. She is safe. She was looking for the Director, and she found him."

Giles couldn't believe it. He never expected his father would get involved with minor skirmishes like this, even if his own son was in danger. He was always in the business of identifying Slayers and averting apocalypses. Well, that, and dealing with Council politics. And now he was the Director?

Giles stared at the man for several seconds. He looked so old. His head was completely white and his face was deeply lined, but there was a fire in his eyes that was still vibrant and alive.

"Dawn?" Appearing from behind the Director, Dawn flew to Giles' side and gave a hard hug. "Oof... there you are, child... I was worried about you."

"No problem, Giles. Your dad looked after me." She beamed up at the older man, and Giles' looked up gratefully.

"Hello, Rupert."

Suddenly, Giles stepped forward, a hand extended. "It's been a while, sir."

"Indeed it has," the older man replied, taking the hand. A crackle of energy enveloped the connection up to both elbows, but neither man flinched. "So, that was your energy I sensed... I had no idea you had grown so powerful."

Giles released his grip and took a step back. "It was necessary. Thank you for taking care of Dawn."

Director Giles acknowledged the change of subject with a wry smile. "She's a delightful girl."

"At times," the younger man said, giving her a fond squeeze.

"She marched right into my office and announced herself. Interrupted my meditation."

Giles chuckled at that. "That's sounds like my Dawn."

The subject of conversation beamed at the two of them, comparing them for a moment. Giles did look like his father, even though he was skinnier and taller. "Giles? Sorry, Mister Giles, Senior... I've always called your son 'Giles' 'cause Buffy did."

"Quite all right, child," the Director said kindly.

Giles couldn't believe it. His father had rarely taken that tone of voice with him... that of understanding and compassion. Had the years changed him that much?

Unaware of Giles' revelation, Dawn chattered on. "I guess I can call you Mister Giles and my Giles just 'Giles'. Unless that would be too confusing."

Giles brushed some debris from Dawn's dark tresses and she sank against him, sighing at the comfort of his presence. "That's fine with me."

"So, Rupert, I hear you're trying to resurrect your Slayer." The stern schoolmaster was back, and Giles responded instantly.

"Yes, sir."

"I also hear you and your Slayer were married just before the... incident with Glorificus."

"Yes, sir."

"And that you are guardian to her sister."

Giles rested his head against Dawn's soft tresses, his arm still around her waist. "That is true, sir."

"Astonishing."

"Yes, it is, rather."

Dawn couldn't help giggle at Giles subservient tones. He frowned down at her, but she wasn't intimidated.

Unexpectedly, the Senior Giles burst into laughter. "Rupert, even at your age, you are able to surprise me."

Giles grinned at his father's unexpected good humor. "Thank you... I think."

Yay! There's the smile! Score one for the kid! Dawn thought with satisfaction.

The Director turned and motioned for Giles to follow. "Come on, then. Let' s get you back to your studies. The world needs a Slayer." He paused, studying his Rupert's face. And my son needs his wife, as well.

********

Quentin Travers' plans were falling apart. He'd planned on capturing Giles and keeping him prisoner as soon as Buffy was returned to this dimension, hoping to assure that she will 'toe the line' from now on. Now that the Director knew of Rupert's presence in the compound, that was going to be difficult. After making a quick search of the special holding rooms, he discovered that his pet sorcerer had disappeared during the battle. His partner in crime, Jarrod Blackstone, was injured and in the infirmary. Travers didn't know if Ethan Rayne had completed the magically enhanced cage before he vanished, or not.

Quentin knew it was risky, but he had to talk with Jarrod. He had to know where things stood.

He waited for several hours, until most of the cleanup was finished, before making his way down the hall to the infirmary. No one questioned his presence as he searched the roster for Blackstone's name. He found his co-conspirator awkwardly propped against the pillows in a small room. The man looked miserable.

"Jarrod, I'm gratified to see you escaped serious injury."

The younger man shifted painfully. "Yes, sir. Barely. Doctor Kendall said if the wounds were a few centimeters deeper I would have died instantly."

Having gotten the necessary pleasantries out of the way, Travers lowered his voice and stepped closer to the bed. "Did Rayne complete his task?"

"I believe so. We lost track of him in the first few moments of the attack. With the wards falling..."

Travers shrugged. "It's just as well. He is no longer my concern."

Blackstone nodded slightly, wincing. "You may have to lead the team to take Mister Giles yourself, sir. I'm to be bedfast for several weeks."

Travers shrugged. "No matter. Once the deed is done, Rupert will know I am involved."

"I believe they are narrowing their search. Soon they'll know how to bring the Slayer back to us. He's an excellent researcher."

"Yes. Things are moving along rather nicely. I'm tired of waiting. The moment their information is complete, we'll put Rupert in his new lodgings."

"Well... he did save our lives during the fighting, sir..."

"Yes, he did. I am grateful for that. Don't misunderstand me, Jarrod. I don't harbor any ill will towards Rupert, personally. I don't want him harmed, I merely need him contained."

"I rather thought you hated him."

"We aren't close chums," Travers admitted. "He has been Watcher to a most unusual Slayer. He allowed her entirely too much freedom. She was undisciplined, irreverent, and completely out of line during our last visit. With Rupert in our custody, the Slayer will be forced to obey our commands again, to come to us before going off on blind tangents, as she is wont to do. The Slayer is, after all, a weapon. In the wrong hands, any weapon can become dangerous."

"It just seems so... cruel... I suppose, to separate them. After all, they' re married."

Travers snapped to attention and studied Blackstone's face carefully. "Having second thoughts, Jarrod? It's a little late for that now."

"No, sir... it's just... I suppose it's the painkillers talking."

"Perhaps you are merely questioning my wisdom in this then."

"Not as such, sir, no." Blackstone was decidedly nervous. "The thought just occurred to me."

Travers clasped his hands behind his back judiciously. "Jarrod, I would hate to think your indecision would result in your dismissal."

"N-no, sir... I wouldn't like that, either."

"After all, you have been trained to follow orders, have you not?"

"Yes, sir... I-I have."

"And if I order you to place Rupert Giles in custody to control the Slayer?"

"I will do so, sir."

"Excellent. I shall check on you from time to time, just to be sure your resolve holds up during your convalescence." Travers turned to go, a dangerous smirk on his face. "Good day, Jarrod."

"Good day, Quentin." Blackstone's voice was trembling slightly. Travers smiled. He would pose no further threat. He was an innate coward.

He was lost in his musings as he turned the corner, and almost ran into several people coming the opposite way. He mumbled an apology and made to go around them, when a firm hand grasped his arm.

He looked up into the livid face of Rupert Giles.

"Rupert? What..."

A large fist connected with his nose, and he fell back into the waiting arms of two security officers.

"Hello, Quentin, my old friend. How nice to find out what you really think of my Slayer and I." Behind the angry Watcher stood Quentin's second-in-command and the Director himself.

Quentin realized he had been found out. He regained his feet and felt carefully around his face, bringing away a hand wet with his own blood. "Director, my actions were solely for the good of the Council. You must believe me."

"Oh, I do, Quentin," Giles, senior said seriously. "That's the trouble. You serve the Council. However, the Council serves the Slayer, does it not? How can you conspire against her and call it service?"

Travers' eyes nearly bugged out of his head. The Director couldn't be taking Rupert's side... the man had barely spoken two words to his son in twenty years! "Director, think of what you're saying! Everything I have done has been in our best interests, despite her rebellion! Are you willing to allow a renegade Slayer to represent us?"

The Director nodded to the two men, who had Travers' hands bound and a soft gag in his mouth before he could use his magic to escape. "There you go again, Quentin, getting it the wrong way round. We represent her, and you've put in a poor showing."

The officers dragged the protesting prisoner away as Dawn peeked out from a doorway. "Can I come out now?"

Giles nodded, and she sauntered up to her guardian, eyeing his bloodied knuckles. "Remind me never to make you mad. That was pretty cool."

He smiled at her and touched her face gently. "He never thought of what would become of you if he had succeeded in his plan."

"Yeah. If he was in charge of Buffy, she'd be like a total zombie, sleeping all day and Slaying all night." The girl shuddered, and Giles placed his arm around her shoulders. "And she'd be away from you. That would kill her quicker than any vamp."

"I'm not so sure that wasn't his plan," Giles, senior said gravely. "It would remove an uncontrollable Slayer without him being directly responsible. A chosen Watcher should never be taken from his Slayer. Buffy is remarkable in that she survived the loss of her first Watcher."

"Where were you when they fired me, then, Father?" Giles asked wearily. Dawn glanced up at his face, seeing the emotion there.

"Unaware of your situation, unfortunately. I was deep into other... concerns. The incident with Glorificus was my first awareness of your termination."

Giles just stared at his father suspiciously.

The older man shifted uncomfortably. "I have only been Director for a short while, Rupert. I was in... training, I suppose, for some years. The man who held that office before me was removed by the Mages just after Quentin's trip to America. Before that occurred, I simply didn't have the authority to question Quentin's actions."

"Removed by the Mages?"

"Yes. Forcibly and..." Giles, senior cleared his throat. "...publicly."

"Oh, dear. That must have been an extreme situation."

"It was, but it is over. I believe that Travers is the last of his supporters. The Mages sensed his duplicity, but in order to remove him from office, there had to be tangible proof." He held up a small CD, light bouncing off its reflective surface. "And here, we have it. A recording of his entire conversation with the young security officer."

Giles felt a small twinge of sympathy for the soon-to-be-deposed Security Chief. "He had no idea Blackstone was wearing a hidden microphone," he stated for Dawn's benefit.

She grinned widely. "Cool. Just like the cop shows on TV."

He gave her an affectionate squeeze. "Just like that."

Travers and his cohorts having been dealt with, research continued in the Council library, with every available Watcher helping. There were several 'missing' texts that suddenly found their way back to their places in the huge repository. Director Giles explained that the Mages did not want Travers gaining access to the knowledge in them, since they contained much darker magic than the opening of a dimensional portal.

Two days after the battle with the Vahrall army they were still translating and recording their findings. During a long afternoon research session, the Director joined his son, Nigel, Prudence, and Dawn in the library to assist in the work. He'd barely found a starting place when Giles sat up straight and pushed away from the table. Dawn was dozing on the leather couch and woke up when he whispered, "No..." as he stood and backed away. His overbalanced chair hit the floor, unnoticed.

"Mister Giles?" Nigel rose with him, worried.

"Not again!"

"What have you found?" Prudence pulled the book towards her, ignoring Giles ' look of horror.

"I can't..." He turned away, facing the wall, staring up at the ancient tin ceiling.

"What is it?" Nigel insisted.

"Nigel." Prudence's calm voice stopped all inquiries. She looked up, tears in her eyes. "The ritual requires a blood sacrifice. The blood of a close relative... such as a mother... or a sister."

Dawn was instantly wide awake. "You mean... just like last time? I have to... bleed?"

A weary voice came from the other side of the room. "No, I won't. I can't."

Dawn went over to him and put her arms around his waist. She rested her head against his shaking back and said, with all the bravery a fifteen-year-old could muster, "It's okay if you have to."

"Dawn," he whispered brokenly. "There is no way I could. Not even for Buffy."

"But, Giles!"

He whirled and grabbed her by the upper arms, his expression so tortured that she couldn't help letting out a whimper of fear. "Dawn, listen to me. I have done many things in my life I am not proud of, but I cannot do this. I will not kill someone I love. Buffy couldn't. I won't. Not now. Not for Buffy, not for Sunnydale, not for jolly old England, not for the WORLD! Do you understand?"

Tears streaming down her panicked face, Dawn sobbed, "I understand, Giles. It's okay."

He pulled her to him, clutching her tightly against his chest. She burrowed into him, trying to let him know how she felt without words. His own face was wet, but his voice was steady. "Buffy would agree."

"Rupert?"

Giles looked up at his father, still holding Dawn closely to him. He didn't answer, just stared at him with pain in his eyes.

"Dawn is necessary."

Fury flared up inside Giles, and he snarled, "You knew this, didn't you?"

"Rupert..."

"I should have known. And here I thought you'd learned finally compassion. You were merely protecting your investment!"

"I don't want Dawn hurt any more than you do, dear boy. There may be another way."

Giles stopped, surprised that his father would refer to him in such an affectionate way. He held the Director's gaze for several moments, taking in the absolute lack of duplicity. Finally, Giles let Dawn go and passed a hand across his face, wiping away his tears. "Tell me."

"I must consult the Mages, but I will be back as soon as I can. Please, son..." Giles, senior placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't give up. Wait for me."

"All right, Father."

Nigel offered to go for tea, and Giles tried to calm himself. It was the Key situation all over again. He remembered his own cold, calculating voice as he advised Buffy that Dawn's death was the only way to stop Glorificus. Perhaps, if he tried hard enough, he could blame blood loss, or trauma-induced shock... the fact remained, he had once advocated that this innocent child was no more than a blob of energy that could be used for evil.

She wasn't a blob of energy, though. She was a child. A person. His Dawn. All he had left of his Buffy. All he had left of his life as a Watcher. She was a symbol of his lifetime of service; the innocent he was sworn to protect. Buffy had died for her. How could he sully that sacrifice by taking the girl's life?

He sat by himself at the far end of the sofa, his brain spinning with self-accusation and guilt. He held his teacup carelessly between his hands, unaware that the liquid had gone cold. Nigel and Prudence huddled together across the room, with two of the desk chairs pulled together so their knees were touching. Dawn was pacing, three steps, then turn... three steps... turn...

Finally, the teen could take it no longer. "I gotta do something, or I'm gonna go crazy. I'm gonna go find a coke machine somewhere."

Giles opened his mouth to tell her there were no vending machines in the compound, then changed his mind and gave her a smile. "Just don't wander too far off. Remember what happened last time."

"Yeah, I'm sure that was all my fault the demons decided to come and kill you."

"Well, you do seem to disappear just before all Hell breaks loose."

"Hey! I didn't disappear in the car the first time!"

"Only because you couldn't get out and walk."

"That's not fair!" she cried, then started giggling. "You're teasing me!"

"A bit."

"Oh, Giles," she bounced over and gave her guardian an enthusiastic hug. "You're totally weird, you know that?"

"Thank you, Dawn. I was trying to be cheerful, but I'll settle for weird."

She kissed him on the cheek and practically bounced out of the room. Giles watched her with warm eyes, a slight smile on his face.

Prudence looked at Nigel and shook her head. "How does he do that?"

"I have no idea. Still think he's strange and sad?"

"Perhaps not so much strange any more. Still very sad. What horrible things he's been through!"

Nigel nodded thoughtfully.

********

"The Dark Guy's got a kid?? You want to put a kid in charge of the whole Realm?"

The Moderator's hands shot forward in supplication. "My Lady, it is the best way. I know the Heir is young, barely old enough to slaughter grazing beasts for food, but he has a gentle spirit. It is believed... both on our side and on the side of Darkness... that he will reign well."

"Well, I can't quite believe it... yet." Buffy was still dressed in her armor as the Victory Council strode into the Castle of Darkness. Under her leadership, the Forces of Light had defeated the demon hordes and taken the Sovereign's stronghold. Now a delegation of winners was going to discuss the terms of surrender with the losers. "What makes you think the kid won't turn out just like his father?"

The Captain of the Forces of Light gave a few hop-steps forward to catch up with the fast-walking Slayer, his mud-colored face alight with pride. "My Lady, we have written it into the Agreement to Surrender... the deposed Sovereign Juwatt-So will be banished to an island held by our Realm and be well treated so long as the Agreement stands!" He finished his sentence with a triumphant wave, and Buffy had to smile.

One of the council beings stepped to her side and added eagerly, "And we have agreed to provide scholars for his son's continuing education, My Lady. Our teachings will provide the young one with balance."

"Such an education is very expensive and precious. Juwatt-So will not refuse it," the Moderator finished.

"I'm impressed! That's a good plan. I like it. Now let's get this over with so I can go home."

"Is our Realm so unpleasant to you, My Lady?" the Moderator asked sadly.

She stopped just outside the massive doors to the inner chamber. The troops guarding the door snapped to attention, pulling on the heavy brass fittings to let the delegation enter. She smiled down at her new friends. Despite their gray, wrinkled appearance, they were pretty good guys.

Her eyes grew misty, and her voice was soft as she replied, "I just have someone waiting for me at home. Can you understand that?"

The Captain, ever her defender, nodded vigorously. "Yes, My Lady. I think that is something we all understand."

They swept into the hall to set right an entire Dimension. Not a bad job for a year's work, she thought to herself. I just hope it's enough.

Far above her in the dimension of deity, three beings of light watched the little group make their plans. The Slayer had done well. She had taught the people to defend themselves without losing their compassion, and the result was peace. They nodded to each other, satisfied. It was enough.

The End