A knock sounded at the door just as Wesley convinced Buffy to eat something.  Buffy heard Wesley answer it, talk with someone briefly, and return to the kitchen with a middle-aged man in a black suit.

"Rabbi Mendi, this is Willow Rosenberg, Cordelia Chase, and Buffy Summers," Wesley said.

Mendi's intent eyes rested on each girl briefly.  "Miss Rosenberg, Miss Chase."  To Buffy, he extended a hand and took hers.  "You are our Slayer?  I'm so happy to meet you."

"Thank you," she answered, matching his solemnity.

"It is your Watcher who has been infected?" Mendi asked.  "This is what the one who came to see me said."

"His name's Rupert Giles and he's upstairs," Buffy replied.  "The one who came to see you, did he return with you?"

Mendi shook his head.  "I will not willingly bring a demon into anyone's house."  He turned to Wesley.  "The hellmouth fell dormant last night.  Am I to understand that the Slayer and her Watcher went into the portal and actually returned?"

Wesley must have swallowed the words 'former Watcher' because he replied simply, "Yes, Mr. Giles went into Rapture but descended lower.  Miss Summers brought him out of the hellmouth but he is still descending."

"Such a shame," Rabbi Mendi murmured.  "Mr. Giles and I have spoken several times on the phone.  He seems a good man."

Cordelia suddenly cut in.  "Are you an exorcist?"

Mendi blinked.  "No, child.  I am not Catholic."

"But that's what we need," she told him.  She turned to Wesley and asked angrily, "Why didn't you call a priest?"

"Rabbi Mendi has experience in this area," Wesley said.

"How much experience?" she demanded and pointed to the ceiling.  "Have you any idea what's up there?"

"I would think, Mr. Giles," Mendi replied softly.  "I have nothing to do with exorcising demons.  I am here, I hope, to prevent his death."  He looked at Buffy and said, "I have called nine other Jewish men to join with me in a minyan for prayer.  I can start without them but they should be arriving soon.  Will you let them in, please?"

"I'm going up there with you."

"I'd rather start alone."

"I don't know how well he's tied," Buffy started but Mendi shrugged.

"Whatever happens, happens, but I prefer to go alone."  And he did, going up the stairs with a quiet tread.

Buffy turned to Willow.  "What's a miniyam?"

"Minyan.  It's ten men who come together to pray," Willow said.

"What's all this praying supposed to accomplish?" Cordelia asked worriedly, looking up at the ceiling.

"If you have to ask," Willow started and trailed off, hugging herself in Wesley's jacket.

Wesley was looking up at the ceiling as well.  "Perhaps we should get more rope," he said.  When no one said anything to him, he amended, "Perhaps *I* should."

"I wonder where Angel is," Buffy asked after he disappeared into the basement.

"Check a sewer grating outside," Cordelia went to the stairs and sat on the bottom step, her forehead in her hands.  "Stop looking to Angel for comfort, Buffy.  He's part of the reason why Giles is dying."

Buffy's mouth tightened.  Willow glanced up in confusion.  "What does that mean?"

"Both Drusilla and Angel tried to turn Giles into a vampire by making him suck down some of their blood.  It's not the hellmouth that's turning Giles into a whatever - it's what they put into him," Cordelia replied and faintly added, "…..uck….."

Willow stared at her, then turned to Buffy but the latter got up abruptly and left the room.

The rest of the minyan arrived and the afternoon dragged on.  Passing by Giles' bedroom door, Buffy could hear the prayers, Mendi's voice and the responses of the men with him.  Giles never made a sound, which ironically grated on her nerves more than if he'd been screaming.  She couldn't judge how it was progressing or if anything was being accomplished at all.  She'd seen the Exorcist once but this was nothing like it.  These men prayed as if they were in a sunny temple on a Saturday morning and no demon's curses sounded to interrupt them.

Cordelia went back and forth silently between the bottom steps and a window in the living room, Willow huddled on the couch, and Wesley was upstairs.  Buffy had no idea where Xander or Oz were, or if they even knew anything was up.  She wandered to a window herself, caught sight of a woman with a stroller going up the street, and realized the world kept on, moving as always.  Xander was probably at school, scarfing through twinkies and wondering why Willow had ditched classes.  Oz, perpetually truant at school, wouldn't sound an alarm yet.  Xander might wander into the library at the end of the day.  If so, he'd have the first clue with both Giles and Wesley absent, but how he'd follow it up was anybody's guess.  He'd probably check at the Bronze before coming here.

Buffy noticed some children going by with knapsacks and wondered if there was an elementary school nearby.  One of the little girls had a cookie monster book bag and another was holding tightly to a finger painting, her work from school that she was taking home to her parents.  Buffy unconsciously smiled at the sight.  Giles would have liked to have seen this too, she figured.  He seemed like someone who would be a good father.

She sighed.  If he hadn't been a Watcher, maybe that could have happened.  Maybe he would be on his way to retrieve his own children from school right now rather than lying upstairs, tied to his bed, dying horribly.

She heard steps on the stairs.  Rabbi Mendi, passing by Cordelia, paused to put a hand on her shoulder.  "Don't be sad," he said.

The other men followed him, going out the front door and into the sunlight, but Mendi went up to Buffy.

"Well?" she asked.

"I'll return tonight for evening prayer."

"But what's happening with my Watcher?"

Mendi met her eyes.  "He's fighting us."

"What do you mean?"

"I think he wishes to die."  At Buffy's expression, he added, "But I haven't given up."

He left and Buffy raced up the stairs.  Wesley, standing at the entrance to the bedroom, turned at her approach.

"Don't go in," he said.

She ignored him, which he'd probably expected, and went into the room.

Giles remained tied to the bed and more ropes had been added.  The welter of knots over his bruised and torn skin looked more evil than he did.  He watched her come in, his expression vague and weary.  His lips were closed - if the fangs were still there, she had no idea.

He lay on the bare mattress for all the covers were on the floor now.  Buffy stepped over them but stopped a few feet from the bed.  "Giles?" she asked.

He didn't answer.  She heard a step behind her and assumed it was Wesley, but Cordelia came up beside her.  His eyes flicked to her.

"He looks the same as he did before," Cordelia mumbled.  She noticed a book on the dresser, picked it up, and took it with her to a chair at the end of the bed.  Buffy eyed her confusedly.

"We spent last weekend in Haven.  He was looking at this in a bookstore so I bought it for him."  Cordelia opened the cover.  "Rupert, do you want to hear this one?  "I have perceived that to be with those I like is enough.  To stop in company with all the rest at evening is enough.  To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough.  To pass among them or touch any one or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment - what is this, then?  I do not ask any more delight -  I swim in it, as in a sea."."  She frowned at the title on the spine.  "Geez, Rupert, you've got terrible taste."

Buffy turned when Wesley came in.  Cordelia ignored them as she went on reading.  " "This is the female form, a divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot.  It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction.  I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor - all falls aside but myself and it.  Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, the atmosphere and the clouds, and what was expected of heaven or feared of hell, are now consumed.  Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it - hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands, love flesh swelling and deliciously….."  Yuck!"  She looked up at him.  "You can read the rest of that one yourself!"

Giles didn't react.  His eyes, narrowed, regarded her emotionlessly.

Cordelia flipped some of the pages.  " "From pent-up aching rivers, from that of myself, without which I were nothing.  From what I am determined to make illustrious, from my own voice resonant, singing muscular urge and the blending, singing the song of procreation….." "  She sighed as she turned more pages.  "Oh God, are they *all* like this?"

Wesley and Buffy exchanged another look before he went downstairs.  Buffy drew a chair against the wall and sat as Cordelia continued to read.  By the time Rabbi Mendi returned, Cordelia was nearly hoarse but Giles had not spoken a word.

Mendi and his minyan started what he told Buffy was maarib, evening prayers.  Buffy left them to their books and returned to the kitchen.

Angel stood by the back door.  Xander was at the table with Willow, looking as mute as she did.  Wesley had made tea but it sat untouched before them.

"How is Giles?" Xander asked, white to his ears, and Buffy realized Willow had told him.

"I don't know.  He's not doing anything," Buffy said, sinking exhaustedly in a chair beside Willow.  Cordelia took a mug of tea from Wesley but held it without drinking .  Buffy noticed that she didn't look at Xander and he turned around so he couldn't see her either.

"How long are those guys going to go on before they admit failure?" Cordelia asked suddenly.

Wesley stuttered until Buffy looked up.  "I, ah, think a while yet," he managed.

"And then what?" Cordelia persisted.

"We haven't arrived at that point," Wesley replied unwillingly.

"We got there long ago and passed it at high speed."  She set her mug down with a clunk.  "Giles read that book I bought him all through Sunday evening.  He adored it.  I just read it to him, almost end to end, and he didn't react."

"Maybe he had trouble understanding your hooked-on-phonics reading ability," Xander said, then asked, "You bought him a book?"  Wesley's head came up as well.

"My point," Cordelia said, ignoring Xander, "is that Giles isn't there anymore.  I don't know what's up there but it's not Giles.  He's gone."

At her words, Buffy felt a steel band wind around her chest and squeeze.  Willow jerked, as if she might fall out of her chair, and Xander grabbed her.

"Don't say that!" Willow cried.  "How can you be so…..unfeeling?"

Cordelia opened her mouth but Wesley stepped forward.  "Don’t," he said.

"If he's not dead yet, wouldn't some part of him still be there?" Buffy asked, looking at Wesley, then at Angel.

"Maybe," Angel said.  "Does he still have a heartbeat?"

Buffy stared at him with such a terrible look that he swallowed.  "Oh Buffy….."

Softly, Wesley said, "Buffy, if Rabbi Mendi can't help Mr. Giles, you will need to act."

She turned back around.  "No," she said, shaking her head.  "I won't!  We'll get that orb thing.  We'll put his soul back."

"His soul isn't lost yet.  He's still alive," Wesley said.

"Then why would you have me stake him?"

"Because he's dying and we can't deal with him as a vampyr."

"We've dealt with…..others," Buffy didn't look at Angel as she said this.  "And Willow has done the soul thing."

"Returning the soul takes its toll on the spellcaster.  Willow pays a price for it.  She's already done it once and weakened herself for her efforts."

"I can do it again," Willow said but Wesley shook his head.

"A soul is no guarantee, as you well know, Buffy.  Mr. Giles possesses extraordinary knowledge even for a Watcher.  Also, I suspect he acquired darker knowledge in his past.  For him to be vampyr with all that he knows is more risk and threat than you can imagine.  As well, he asked you not to let him become demon," Wesley told her.  "If you let him die into the vampyr state, even with the return of his soul, you still condemn him.  You condemn him into an eternity of pain and of being something he asked you himself to prevent."

Buffy clapped her hands to her face.  "I can't do that.  Not to Giles.  I can't!"

Angel stepped forward and hugged her to him.

"Then I'll have to," Wesley said.

Xander cut in, "Wait now.  Let Cordelia have a chance to offer."

"Xander, stop being so pathetic," Cordelia retorted.  "When Angel went nasty, he killed more people than we know about.  He killed Miss Calendar and tortured Giles for hours and nearly killed Willow in the school hall right in front of you.  Get off your high horse for two seconds and think - do you want it to happen all over again?"

He didn't respond to her.  An appalling quiet fell over the group.

Finally Buffy said, "We have not reached that point.  As long as that Rabbi keeps trying, we are not there."

Everyone jumped when the phone rang.  Putting a hand to his chest, Wesley went into the hall, returning a moment later to say, "Buffy, it's your mother."

She got up.  Xander watched her go before glancing at Cordelia.  "The decision about Giles is nothing to do with you.  It's Buffy's.  You shouldn't be opening your mouth."

Cordelia returned the look bitterly.  "It has a lot to do with me."  She stalked out of the kitchen.

"She thinks the world revolves around her," Xander muttered.

Willow leaned forward.  "Xander, she and Giles are…..were….."

"Are were what?"

Willow glanced at Wesley who had also stepped forward.  "I'm thinking you don't know either."  Uneasily, she continued, "Cordelia and Giles spent a night together."

Wesley huffed and straightened to his full height but Xander recovered quickly.

"Giles must have been, like, really drunk?" he offered.  "However, one night does not give her rights over his life."  Xander paused for a few moments before adding, "Cordelia and *Giles*?"

Buffy came back into the kitchen.  "I told my mom that Giles was ill but she's insisting I go home.  Apparently the school called because I wasn't there and she's upset with me.  I'm thinking, Will, that your parents might have got a call too."

"I'd better phone home," Willow stood.

"All of you should go to your homes and get a decent night's rest," Wesley said.

Buffy shook her head.  "I'm just going long enough to talk to my mom…..and explain why I'm wearing Giles' clothes…..and then I'm coming right back."

Buffy returned to Giles' apartment to find every light ablaze.  She rushed in the front door and called, "Willow?  Wesley?"

Wesley looked up from the phone, then put it down.  "Buffy."

"What happened?"

"Mr. Giles is gone."

Buffy froze.  "Giles is dead?"

"No, he's gone."

"You staked him?"

Cordelia suddenly flew to her feet from where she'd been sitting on the bottom step of the stairs.  "No!  Giles *left*!  Geez!"

Buffy stared up the stairs.  "But he was tied."

"Obviously not well enough," Cordelia told her.  "You couldn't have been gone a minute when he broke the ropes and ran out of here.  Wesley tried calling your house because we thought he was chasing after you, but the line was busy."

"My mom called my dad so they could both lecture me at the same time," Buffy turned to look out the front door.  "It's dark out there.  We don't know where he's gone?"

"No," Wesley said.  "That Oz boy came by and took Willow and Xander in his van to look for Mr. Giles.  Rabbi Mendi and some of his chaps are looking as well."

"Where's Angel?"

"He left when you did," Cordelia said.  "Wesley and I thought he was with you.  That's where he usually is."

"I called the night janitor at the school and he said that no one is in the library," Wesley said.  "I don't know Mr. Giles that well.  Where else would he go, Buffy?"

"Uh, the cemetery maybe?  No, that's when he patrols."  Buffy tried to think.  "He buys a lot of scotch.  Maybe a liquor store?"

Cordelia frowned.  "He never drank around me."

"Funny, I'd think you'd be a reason for it," Buffy sniped.  "Giles likes books.  Maybe we could check some bookstores or the Sunnydale library."

Cordelia glared at her.  "Buffy, this isn't Giles-I've-got-an-evening-free-I-think-I'll-stroll-around.  This is Giles-I'm-really-pissed-off-who-can-I-murder."

"Murder?" Buffy repeated slowly, then her eyes widened in sudden comprehension.  "If Giles is angry with anyone, it would be…..Angel."

A woman putting on perfume distracted him momentarily.  He couldn't see her - she was beyond the range of his vision which was, even in this dark, extraordinarily acute - but he could smell the scent.  It called to his mind feminine warmth and dark amused eyes and the sight of some dead woman spread over a bed like an offering.

He identified the direction of the smell, momentarily turned that way, but resumed his original path soon after.  He didn't have much time, that much he knew though he didn't quite know how.  Something to do, no doubt, with that shimmering girl he wanted to avoid.

He purposely chose ill-lit roads, the dredges of city streets where garbage and forsaken humanity wallowed side by side.  He met one of his own kind, briefly, their eyes meeting across the pavement, but they both had their own purposes right now.  He continued down the road while the other continued its own hunt.

His purpose came into view soon after, a condemned building at the end of a weed-filled street.  Lights shone in a room visible through an archway.  There was a fire too.  That was good.  He liked fire.

A single window, crowded by dead thorns, opened to a balcony.  He slunk cat-like up to it, putting his nose to the ledge.

And smiled.

*It* was there, bent over something at a table, firelight skipping across its arms.  *It* had a name.  Angelus.

He had *its* name and a scorching memory of shiny objects, ferocious pain, and his blood running down him to the floor.  He knew this one, this Angelus, and he knew he'd waited a long time for this night.

The sight of Angelus disturbed a pit underneath his nightmare, a black pool of knowledge he thought he should remember.  It angered him to know it was there but unreachable, taunting with its proximity.  In that pit was more about this revulsion called Angelus, and he stared at the revulsion and wondered what it was he couldn't remember.

The revulsion suddenly straightened and came to the window.  *It* leaned over the sill, hands coming down within an inch of where his nose was.  He smelled cold black blood.

He laughed silently.  This was too easy.  But while he was devising the best way to launch a surprise, a movement at the edge of the balcony caught his eye.  An orange tabby prowled its nightly round.  The cat had probably followed this route for years because it was complacent about it, stalking along the edge of a dry fountain with the authority of a king.  It didn't sense anything new until it was nearly beside him.

Complacency vanished under terror.  Angelus jumped as the cat screamed up a trellis and bounced to the top of a statue.  Then it sat, hissing.

Angelus followed the cat's line of sight but he'd already crept to another patch of shadow.  Angelus frowned, suspicious now, warned.

He waited.

A light came on, flooding the balcony too brightly, hurting his eyes.  How could Angelus stand it?  Wasn't *it* demon too?

The light infuriated him.

Deep breath.  LEAP!  A white blur of arm came up but he was going too hard.  Cloth whipped in his eyes.  Running.  GO!  Over a table, books falling to the floor, fire snatching at them.

But Angelus was too fast.  Movement on the stairs, footsteps flying, and *it* was gone.

He crouched on the floor, listening, nerves crackling even while he rested.  He avoided the couch - it was covered with human smell.  And what was that at the side?  A rug?  Had Angelus gone soft?

He waited for the footfalls to quiet, then he stood back up and set his trail, landing on the stairs with a soft thud, no need for quiet now.  Angelus knew he was there.

He slunk up the stairs.  At the top, a hallway, a long corridor, every door shut.  He stood, catching Angelus' foul smell, a thousand impulses running through him.

He went past door after door, old brass and dust and ancient mouse-paths.  It was the last door, hinges still quivering in their atoms.  He pushed it open.

Angelus stood there, staring at him, shirt rustling at *its* open neck.  The white skin provoked him.  His teeth would so easily penetrate.

But Angelus was talking, being careful not to show teeth, speaking words he couldn't comprehend.  His ears twitched but he had, somewhere in him, a habit of patience.  He could wait.  He could even pretend.  He was very good at both.

He knelt, nerves taut.  Angelus kept using the same word over and over…..Giles, Giles.  The word bothered him immensely.  He thought he should know it.  That Angelus kept saying it irritated him to the last wisp of his control.  It took all he had not to react when Angelus came over and laid a hand on him.

Somehow he waited.  Angelus had a heaviness under its skin.  *It* had been around humans too long.  He would use that weakness.

Angelus used another word - Buffy.

That was the last straw.

He leapt, opening his jaws.  A feeble swipe came underneath him.  Too slow.  It missed him.  Angelus crashed under his weight.  He crunched, his teeth stinging happily with the black blood.  Angelus tried to defend himself but reluctantly it seemed, reacting too slowly.

He paused momentarily at that.  Was this the Angelus that had raped him?  Smirking as *it* mounted him the wrong way, shredding his tissue, leaving him split and bleeding.  What about all those metallic things *it* had pushed under his skin?  If *it* could do that, why didn't *it* at least hit back?

But cloth ripped and the doubt dissipated.  Angelus' belly exposed.  He tore in, caught Angelus with claws and teeth.  *It* tried to raise its head, then dropped and lay still.

He pulled back, happiness spiking his veins though he was still somewhat wary.  Angelus should have been stronger.

Angelus watched him mutely.  A drop of its blood started a journey down its stomach to splatter on the floor.  Another followed, faster this time.  The drops turned into a trickle, then a stream.

The urgency of killing rushed through him.  The need to open Angelus' throat sang in his ears.  He wanted to howl in excitement.  He grew hard, deliciously aching as the orgasm of death approached.  It would only take one more bite to send the entrails sliding to the floor.

Then he thought of something better.

He rose, grabbed Angelus's arms, and pulled him to the door, down the hall, the stairs, back to the room where the fire burned, leaving a sticky trail that he'd enjoy later.

The fire burned steadily.  It had long consumed the books and was now dancing through the couch.

It danced for him.

He regarded the fire.  It was nice.  The anticipation was nice too.  At his feet, Angelus croaked that word again.  Buffy.

He slammed his heel in Angelus' throat.

Cordelia drove Buffy and Wesley to the mansion.  When she took a corner on two wheels, however, Buffy wished they'd hot-wired Giles' car even if it would have added a few hours to their trip.  Wesley looked as though he wished the same thing when Cordelia's driving sent Buffy flying into him again and again.

"Oof," he said as Buffy fell into him during a u-turn.  "Please be careful with that stake."

Buffy quickly dropped it to the floor of the vehicle.

When they got to the mansion, they discovered another car there and a man standing beside it.

Buffy eyed him curiously as she got out of Cordelia's car.  "Rabbi Mendi?"

He nodded solemnly at her.  "We have both followed Mr. Giles to here, I see."

"Did you see him?" she asked.

Mendi shook his head.  "No, not yet.  I was debating the best way to go into this place when you arrived.  There is a light at the back and I think I smell smoke."

"Oh no," Buffy said, running for the door.

The front door entered into the hall where Acathla once stood.  It was empty now, bare even of furniture, and their footfalls sounded loud in it.  Buffy glanced back to find Wesley holding three crosses and trying to find something else he wanted in his suit pocket.  Mendi strode in front of Cordelia, face grim, acting as her barrier.  She didn't look like she appreciated it.

"Angel lives in the back," Buffy said, sniffing the air.

"Smoke," Mendi confirmed.

They slowed as they neared the room at the end.  Buffy rounded the edge of the doorway, then halted in surprise and sudden horror.

Angel lay on the floor in a tangled heap, his arms twisted over his head.  Giles stood beside him, his back to the door, looking as if mesmerized at the couch which was on fire.

Angel squinted at the doorway.  "Buffy?" he croaked.

Giles' heel landed on his throat.

Buffy flew forward but, in a swift motion, Giles picked Angel up and whirled around, his mouth at Angel's neck.

A mouth with two blood-stained fangs.

Buffy stopped again, hands open to show she was weaponless.  "Giles?" she asked.

He regarded her quietly, the way a wild animal does when suddenly confronted by a person.  It had been difficult for Buffy to call him by his name for he looked almost nothing like the man she'd known.  Barefoot, unshaven, his clothes sodden to his body in several days accumulation of sweat - only his eyes gave him away, the wet-leaf green of them reflecting the fire as he looked at her.  She eyed him in return, judging her ground.

Wesley chose this moment to edge up, cross aloft.  Buffy sensed him coming behind her and was about to tell him to stop when Mendi saved her the trouble.  He put his hand on Wesley's arm and said, "We wait on the Slayer."

"Giles," Buffy tried again.

He noted the movement of the two men but his attention remained on the girl.  He didn't want to fight her.  She burned with a power that frightened him.  Somewhere in his lost memory he knew Angelus was something to her, something she would battle for.  He kept Angelus between them.

She took a cautious step towards him, speaking in a voice that trembled deceptively.  He wasn't fooled by it.  He could smell her energy, the burn of ozone before a lightning strike.  She used that word again, the one that made him so uneasy.  Giles.  She followed it a heartbeat later with the word Buffy.

He tensed and almost killed Angelus in the fury that word brought on.  She sensed it and stopped immediately, still holding her empty hands before her.  Behind her, one of the men held an object that swung and dipped crazily.  He didn't look at it, for fear it would blind him.

Behind that one came another man and *this* one he stepped away from.  He knew this one.  The man who had been there when he'd been tied.  The one whose words hurt.

His movement put the stairs behind him but they went up, not out.  It was the door he wanted.  A dark-haired girl stood in front of it but she had nothing to protect her.  He decided to choose her as the shortest route out.

He'd have to take that route soon.  The fire was dying, having finished the couch.  Without raising his mouth from Angelus' neck, without a twitch to betray him, he readied to throw the demon to the girl he feared.  He wouldn't get his bonfire, at least not with Angelus, but there were others.  The dark-haired girl for instance.  He might take her with him, if he had time.

It took all his willpower not to smile at the thought of how she'd burn, screaming as her flesh scorched off her.  The image made him hard again and trailed words behind it which settled sweetly in his brain.  He ran through them, almost tasting them in his delight.  The words all went together.  They were a…., he thought hard.  They were a *spell*, a spell that made fire.  Out of nothing.

A rush went through his chest.  There were more words in his head.  More spells, rising from that dark patch in his brain.  He set them aside, to be reviewed later.  The first one was all he needed right now.

Against the side of Angelus' neck, he started the incantation.

Buffy glanced at Wesley, then at Mendi.  "What's he doing?" she asked.

Wesley shook his head.  "I don't know.  It's a poem in Aramaic."

Mendi interrupted.  "He's calling fire."

The floor grew hot under their feet.  Buffy cursed as she ran forward.  Giles threw Angel at her with such force that she toppled.  Wesley jumped back to avoid Angel, his cross shaking wildly in his hand, and stumbled into Mendi.

At the door, Cordelia eyed the floor as she shifted uncomfortably on it.  "What the fuck--?" she started.  She looked up and found Giles coming for her.

He rushed her, knowing he had the barest second before the girl he feared would be back on her feet.  The dark-haired girl looked up and he adjusted his pace.  She'd try to run.  He readied himself, anticipating the direction she'd take.

Inexplicably, the dark-haired girl didn't move out of his way.  She met his eyes challengingly.  This is too easy, he thought as he grabbed her.

The impact in his groin exploded white-flaming novas behind his eyes.  He dropped instantly.

He didn't hear her footfalls in his deafening pain but he felt her, the shimmering one, as she grabbed his arms and yanked them behind his back.  His shoulder tore out of its socket but he barely felt it as he rolled to his side, drawing his knees to his chest as he moaned.

Buffy glanced at Cordelia uncertainly.  "Um…..thanks.  I've got him now."

Cordelia put her hands on her hips and glared down at Giles.  "I've put up with enough, Giles!  That's it.  It's over.  We're through!"

Buffy frankly stared at her.  "Cordelia?  Timing issues here.  Can you dump him, maybe, later?"

Cordelia was still intent on Giles.  "And don't be telling all your friends stories about me either.  I know how guys are at the water cooler and in the hallways.  You keep your mouth shut!"

She paced away angrily.  Both Wesley and Mendi moved out of her path.  Then Mendi came over and knelt beside Giles.

"It feels like the floor's cooling," Buffy said.

Mendi nodded.  "Mr. Giles didn't have a chance to finish the spell, fortunately."  He gestured behind him briefly.  "I have made your…..associate…..as comfortable as I could.  He is unconscious but still with us."

Angel lay on his side on the rug, a coat under his head.  Wesley stood several feet away, eyeing him anxiously.

Giles moaned again, calling her attention back down.  "Please help him," she said to Mendi.

He gave her a smile of consolation before taking a prayer book from his pocket.

Buffy cradled Angel's head in her lap as she watched the morning sun creep over the cold floor.  It wouldn't reach where he lay.  She knew that for Angel had planned his living quarters well.  She kissed his forehead, then settled with her back against the wall.

Wesley and Cordelia had found chairs in a room upstairs and had brought them down.  He slept in one and she was curled up in another, also watching the sunrise.  At the side, in the doorway, Giles lay, tied, silent, while Mendi prayed over him.

Mendi had prayed all night, his voice moving in the meter of a language Buffy didn't know.  She couldn't tell how it was progressing.  If anything, Giles looked even more appalling though it may have been because she was seeing him in the light.  Every once in a while he twitched, a recoil from a stimulus.

Mendi gave her a smile.  As if his limitless persistence wasn't enough, he was also trying to give her comfort.  Buffy returned his smile in admiration.

When Wesley woke, he went for coffee.  Buffy hoped he'd take Cordelia with him but she wouldn't budge from the chair.  Buffy couldn't figure Cordelia out whatsoever.  She glanced to Giles - he and Cordelia had shared one night, Buffy knew, and a trip to a bookstore in Haven.  There was obviously more.  More time together, more nights, more…..something.  Something in common, something they could give each other.

She wished she'd asked Giles about it.

Angel stirred.  His eyes opened, took her in, then shifted around the room, ending where Giles lay.

"Angel?" she asked, stroking his cheek.

"Buffy," he said in a terribly hoarse voice.

She hugged him to her.  She felt him trying to swallow against her.

"I'll get you some water."  Buffy took a long route, through the balcony and to another door rather than go past where Giles and Mendi were.  When she returned, Angel had managed a sitting position against the wall and Cordelia was across the room by a window.

She handed him the glass, following his line of sight to Giles.  "Why didn't you fight back?" she asked.

Angel's eyes returned to her.  "I thought of you and couldn't.  Maybe I should have.  If I'd killed him, you'd hate me, but if you'd killed him, you'd hate yourself."

"It was a stake-free encounter.  No death though it was a near thing for you," Buffy eyed the burnt remains of the couch.  "Giles seems to…...like fire."

"And worse things," Angel said.  "I was scared you wouldn't be able to deal with him."

"Actually, Cordelia took him down."

Angel choked on a gulp of water.  ”Yeah, she frightens me too," he admitted.

Wesley returned with coffee and gave Angel a wide berth as he handed out the cups.  He refrained from disturbing Mendi as well.

To Wesley, Buffy asked softly, "Can you tell how it's going?'

He shook his head.  At that moment, Mendi looked over and Buffy startled, wondering if he'd heard her.

"Child," he said.

Buffy went over and knelt down.  Giles was on his side, breathing quietly.  The gentle rise of his chest gave her a stab of hope, that was until she put her hand on him and found he still had no heartbeat.

"I have been trying to call him back by speaking to him of his faith and of things he would know here on earth, but it has been difficult," Mendi said.  "It is easier for him to succumb to the poison in his veins than to fight it.  He is tired and has little strength left.  Also, I suspect this world holds pain and sadness for him.  I have been able to stop him from further descent but I cannot prevent him from dying into oblivion.  I cannot call him back.  I suspect he is embracing the end and wishes to go into the dark."

Buffy felt a tear slide down her cheek but she kept her head up.  She met Mendi's eyes and asked, "Did you bring me over here so I could tell him goodbye?"

"The two of you share a bond uncommonly strong," he said.  "It carried you through the hellmouth to him.  He is yours.  He belongs to you in a way that not even the hellmouth could break.  Call him, child.  Call him to you."

Mendi untied the ropes from Giles' wrists and went to the other side of the room, leaving her with him.  Buffy touched his cheek, his forehead, the bridge of his nose where his glasses usually rested.  "Giles," she said.

He didn't move.  She bent towards his ear.  "Giles, it's Buffy.  Can you hear me?"

Nothing, not a break in his breathing, not even a quiver in his skin.

She put her face to his and closed her eyes.  She was aware that she was crying again, silently, her tears falling into his hair.  Probably the others could see them, watching from the other side of the room.  She didn't care.

Buffy kissed him, pressing her lips to his cold skin.  She thought of his old name but swept it quickly out of her mind.  She wouldn't force him back, not if he really wanted to go…..

She moved her mouth to his ear and said softly, "Don't leave me here alone, Giles.  It's Buffy.  I need you.  Don't leave me."

Nothing.

Buffy put her arms around him and stilled, hiding her face in his neck.  She felt the pulse for a few moments before she realized what it was.

A heartbeat.

She jerked upright.  Those beautiful green eyes looked up at her, blinking in the light and looking so full of anguish that she almost wished them closed again.

"Buffy?" he asked raggedly.

She grinned.  "Giles!  It's me!"

"Oh Buffy," he cried.  "I've been dreaming so."

"You're awake now," she said and hugged him fiercely.

Wesley called an ambulance and it was only when it arrived that Buffy would let go of Giles.  They followed the ambulance to the hospital in Cordelia's car but were stopped at the emergency entrance by a firewall of nurses.  When the diagnosis finally came out, it was the mundane coverall of exhaustion and dehydration, delivered by a doctor who seemed to think, from Giles' condition, that he was a homeless person they'd plucked off the street.

The firewall hid Giles in intensive care and no amount of sneaking could get Buffy in there.  Mendi managed to press in once by forcing privilege for his position as a Rabbi.  He came away with the impression that the Watcher had returned to himself though the latter looked - Mendi fished for a word - sad.

It was a two day separation.  Wesley took the call from the hospital and Buffy went with him to retrieve Giles from the hospital's back door, ditching class quite easily despite that she knew her mother would be called about it.

"Willow wants to come over later," Buffy said, hovering anxiously around Giles after he'd been returned to his apartment and Wesley was gone.  Giles' demeanor bothered her immensely.  He hadn't spoken a word the whole trip back and his movements were slow and weary.  He sat on his couch, in a shaft of sunlight as if to test himself, and the rays exposed wide streaks of gray in his hair.

She sat beside him.  "Did you hear me about Willow?"

"I owe her…..much more than an apology."

"Finally, he speaks," Buffy said, but he didn't smile at the teasing.  "Giles, she's ok.  She understands.  Apologize but don't get all guilt-stricken over it.  As she pointed out, we know what she's capable of as a vamp."

Giles finally turned, meeting her eyes.  He touched her hair.  "It shimmers."

Buffy studied him.  "Uh, well, I'm using a new shampoo.  An herbal thing, it really works on sewer smell which I seem to encounter a lot."

He smiled faintly.  "How did you ever find me?"

"You left a trail of breadcrumbs."

"Wondrous Slayer," he murmured.  "If only I could find a way to keep you from tears for a little while."

"I can take it, Giles."  Buffy settled beside him, leaning against his arm.  She watched dust swirl in the sunlight for a few minutes before saying impishly, "Let me know when you're feeling better.  I want to hit you."

"Because of what I did to you?"

She shook her head.  "No, it was something you said to me.  You deserve a good slug for it."

He looked at her with such consternation that she laughed.

They both watched the dust for a little while, then she asked, "Giles, what does your old name mean?"

"Uh, the closest translation I can make is torn asunder, ripped."

She fell quiet again. At length, he asked, "Anything else, Buffy?"

She glanced up.  "Why Cordelia?"

A swift run of emotions went through his eyes, too quickly for her to identify any of them.  When the neutral sea-green returned, he said, "Does it matter?  She ended it."

"Maybe," Buffy said.  "When you went down into the hellmouth, she stood at the edge of the cemetery and cried.  I didn't think she knew how."

"Things scare her too."

"Really?  Not vampires though," Buffy stated.  "Not with a knee like hers.  By the way, are you ok there because she--"

"Yes," he said quickly.

Buffy enjoyed his embarrassment for a moment before pointing out, "You didn't answer my question, not the one about the knee.  The one about why her."

"She allowed me something no one else ever has.  Except for Jenny," he added quietly.  "Cordelia offered me time."

"Well that makes a lot of sense," Buffy said with a little exasperation.

"Time," Giles repeated.  "An evening, a night, even just a minute where I wasn't a Watcher.  I didn't have to be endlessly responsible or so eternally restrained or swallow down what I thought or felt."

"Take all that away and what are you?" she asked.

"A man," he replied with a shrug.  "Just a man."

"I guess I understand that," Buffy said.  "Sometimes I don't want to be the Slayer either."

"*Some* times?"

"Some as in ninety percent.  Do you want some tea?"  She stood, then laughed.  "Actually, that's probably one of those questions I never have to ask.  I'll just go plug in the kettle."

He was outside in the back yard, looking at an old car that was parked there, when Cordelia found him.

"Rupert?" she asked, as if unsure though he was standing in the late-day sun.

He turned to her, meeting her gaze quietly.

"I just came to tell you that I'm not going to apologize for kneeing you," she said.

"Well, you did warn me about that."

"I did," she emphasized.  She looked at the car.  "I meant to ask you about this.  What is it?"

"An Impala."

"Why don't you drive it?  It looks to be in decent…well, not decent shape but, it's better than your other car."

"It's not mine."

Cordelia frowned.  "Oh."

"It's Michael's."

"*Oh*."  She moved beside him and hesitantly tugged at his sleeve.  "What is this?  Two sweaters?"

"Three," Giles said.

"It's eighty degrees out, Rupert."

"I can't get warm."

She regarded him for a long time, then took his hand and led him to the car.  She patted the hood.  "Hop up."

Giles eyed her curiously.

"Metal heats up in the sun.  Come here."  She climbed up, pulling him up after her.  Then she held him.  "I'll make you warm again."

"You are into old men," he said, his voice muffled by her blouse.

"Obsessively."  At length she felt him relax.  He lifted up and kissed her.

"That part of you is warm," she said.  "Now remember the rules, Rupert.  One fang and it's lead-soprano."

They kissed for a little while longer before leaning back on the Impala's windshield.

"Tell me about this Michael guy.  You told me that you and he had done some snuggling in the back."

Giles pulled her against his chest and closed his eyes.  "Michael Khieri," he said.  He let the words go soft into the breeze.  "Michael loved life."