He hadn't heard from her since she had left his apartment, which now had been over a week ago, and to say he was worried would be an understatement. If Buffy had called at any other time he would've simply hung up and gone after Cordelia to try and sort out what had just happened. But Buffy had found Spike and needed his help in securing a safe place to hold him-which in the end was his apartment. That grating demonic prick was annoying enough when Giles was in a civil mood, but Spike was just about one cross word away from being dusted, even if he was helpless.

Hell, Spike was just being Spike. It was just Giles' dumb luck that he was the only one who could watch over Spike without  arousing suspicion. Instead of coming to LA to talk to Cordelia sooner, he'd had to stay in Sunnydale and just ruminate over the entire conversation, trying to understand what exactly it was that happened that afternoon that had resulted in Cordelia fleeing from his house.

He realized he had hit on something when she instantly got defensive about being compared to Buffy. It had started out innocent enough, him bringing up a simple observation about both of them being so alike, especially as far as attitude. He felt that if they acknowledged that fact and were able to move past it, then they could actually be friends, or at least on friendlier terms. But as the conversation continued, he felt her pulling away, her defensive nature taking over. The closer he tried to get to her, the more she withdrew until she felt she had to end to the conversation and lashed out at him to force him to stop.  And fool that he was, he fell for it and reacted as she wanted.

"Stupid," he mumbled to himself as he tapped the counter. He should have known better. In fact part of him did know better. Her snapping at him was to make him angry and not bother to care to continue the conversation. He had hit on something that she didn't care to discuss, probably too afraid to discuss, and she immediately withdrew to protective mode and snapped at him. The thing of it was that he didn't get mad at what she said, but why she even said it in the first place. Why did she feel she couldn't trust him at that point? She had been open to him before, right up until that afternoon.

And then the shields came up and she just closed herself off from him. He had thought they had gotten past that.

It had hurt that she did that. It had hurt that she felt she couldn't just be herself.

And then, good Lord, then he had watched as it all came tumbling out in an uncontrollable torrent of words-her pain and frustration and anger. He had known that there was more to Cordelia than meets the eye, had learned that early on in their relationship, but what he had witnessed that afternoon still surprised him.  There was so much emotion bubbling inside of her, emotion that she just didn't know what to do with. The only way she could was to repress it and allow the bitterness to surface in ways she could control- snide comments, tactless remarks, self-centered statements. But that afternoon she couldn't control it. He saw a hurt, scared, vulnerable girl letting her true feelings out, only to stop and cover it up once exposed. Why she was afraid to be honest with herself and others, he didn't know. All he could guess  was that something or someone had greatly disillusioned her and left her with the  need to protect herself the only way she knew how.

Bloody hell. The look on her face when she realized what she was saying was one of ashamed horror. He honestly didn't know what was going on in her mind at that moment, but  it wasn't hard for him to figure out that part of her was beating herself up for losing control in front of him. She had to literally turn away and compose herself, mask herself before she could face him again and even then he could still see the fear in her eyes. And then Buffy called and he answered the phone and watched stupidly as Cordelia fled.

It had been later that he realized that she had been afraid of him, of his rejection of her for what he had just witnessed. If she had only given the chance, she would have seen that dismissing or attacking her was the last thing he would have done.

He had to admit that much of what she had said, regarding Buffy, had some merit. More often than not when it came to Buffy, everyone else's problems were inconsequential, their lives and sacrifices unnoticed. As a Watcher he had accepted that fact as part of his job. His life, wants, desires would come second to the slayer's. She was to be put first. When Willow and Xander, and then later Oz and Cordelia began helping out , he just applied to them what he had for himself-that in the end it was Buffy that mattered. She had the harder job, the fewer rewards, and a short life expectancy hanging over her head. All because she had the damned luck to be chosen to be a defender of the Hellmouth and protector of the innocent.

He had forgotten that the innocent that they were trying to protect included Cordelia and the others, and that they fought out of loyalty, not duty. They gave up a large part of their lives to help them, taking on the monsters of Hellmouth in addition to the  problems in their own lives. Xander and Willow never really complained, it had always been Cordelia being the lone voice of distention. At the time he had seen it as tiresome, now he was beginning to realize that she had a point. These kids helped because they wanted to, without the aid of supernatural powers or being chosen by higher powers. Buffy may be vitally important in the greater scheme of things, but the lives of her friends, her allies, shouldn't be considered inconsequential.

"Sir?" Giles looked up at the server as he handed him his cup and he quickly took it from him. He walked slowly over to the counter and began adding cream and sugar to his coffee.

He had beaten himself up for the way he let her leave. Unfortunately once they had secured Spike at his place, he couldn't leave him alone. Spike may be unable to attack but he could still stir up trouble. He'd left messages on her machine at her apartment and at Angel's business, but he knew better than to believe she would return them. The only way to straighten this out was to come and talk to her face to face.

Picking up his coffee, he turned from the counter and scanned the shop for a seat, when he spotted a familiar form sitting at a table in the back, their back to him. Recognizing it as Cordelia he sighed in relief. He had found her. Now he had to try to get her to listen to him.

He walked over to her table, stopping just to her right. She hadn't seen him yet, if she had he had no doubt she would acknowledge him even if it was only a cold glare. She simply sat in her seat, looking  down at her hands, which rested on the table in front of her untouched coffee. What he was seeing rubbed him terribly wrong.

"Cordelia?" Her head snapped in his direction, her tired eyes revealing a flicker of warmth before hardening.

"Giles," she answered, clearing her throat and returning her attention back to her coffee. She remained focused on her task, quite blatantly ignoring him, but he wasn't about to make the same mistake twice and let her try to force him away.

"Mind if I sit down?" he motioned towards the empty chair. Not giving her a chance to answer he pulled the chair out and sat down. She glared at him coldly for a moment before sitting back in her chair and taking a sip of her coffee.

Guess he was going to have to make the first move.

"This makes the second time I've found you here. Seems like this coffee shop has become our meeting place of sorts." She continued to silently glare at him and he paused a moment, quickly assessing her again. "I haven't heard from you in a while. How have you been-"

"Fine," she interrupted crisply. She cocked her head to one side and continued to stare at him with impatience.

He shook his head. "Quite honestly you look the contrary."

"Well not all of us can look good all the time. Even me," she bit as she set her coffee cup down and stared at the table.

He started and took a breath before trying again. "Cordelia, will you please talk to me?"

Her eyes flickered up to meet his. "We are, aren't we?"

"Stop giving me bloody runaround," he snapped. She flinched and he immediately cursed himself. Damn this was hard. " I'm sorry. I've been worried about you. You haven't returned my calls-"

"I've been busy," she cut in again.

"You've been avoiding me," he countered. "We never finished our conversation from last week."

She laughed weakly. " I think we did," she lifted her cup to her mouth and took a swallow. "I said all I had to say."

Giles leaned forward in his seat. "Well you never gave me a chance to comment."

She blew out a breath and shook her head. "Didn't need to. It was written all over your face."

He frowned. "What?"

She smiled grimly and shook her head. "Nothing."

"Cordelia I don't know what it is you believe I was thinking, but will you at least give me the chance to say what I want to say? Will you give me that?"

She looked up at him warily and he was struck by the conflicting emotions he saw flit across her face. She seemed willing to listen, but there was still something else underneath it all, that he couldn't quite grasp, that was keeping her in check.

He glanced down at his coffee and then back up at her. "First of all I'm sorry if I was insensitive to your feelings when I compared you to Buffy. I meant you no ill regard when I did so and I realize that it was wrong. I didn't mean to make you feel as if you were being held up for inspection and if it felt as if I were doing that I apologize."

"Secondly, what you said about Buffy and her having a double standard applied to her-"

She grunted and quickly raised a hand, "Giles, just forget it-"

"No, you were right. I still maintain that allowances must be made for Buffy, she's a slayer. She's got a hard life and little if any rewards other than surviving one round to face yet another. But that doesn't mean that you and the others aren't important. You're right, we do forget that living simply a 'normal' life can be damn hard and the problems that we are faced with, can sometimes be just as harrowing and frightening as what the Hellmouth can unleash. All of you are important. You are important. It's just that sometimes we forget to remind each other and ourselves of that fact."

Cordelia simply stared at him, her face softening, but her body still rigid.

"I didn't mean to be so…" She trailed off shaking her head slightly as she thought to herself.

Giles gave her a gentle, reassuring   smile.  "Cordelia, I know. You weren't wrong or selfish to say what you felt. And most certainly not wrong in being honest with yourself or with me," he shook his head. " You're so very cautious about what to reveal about yourself. I don't know who or what made you feel that way,  and I'm sorry you've been made to feel that way.  But  know that I am not going to judge you or  your feelings,  nor  will I reject you just because we happen to have a difference of opinion. Friends disagree all the time. They fight, say things in the heat of the moment, later regret them, and make-up." He leaned forward, "And continue to be friends."

She eyed him silently a moment, thinking over what he said  before visibly relaxing in her chair, her eyes silently reflecting her understanding.  He gave her a soft smile and relaxed as well, relieved that they had cleared this hurdle and salvaged their friendship. But his relief was quickly replaced by concern as he watched her suddenly look away, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

He gently touched her hand. "Cordelia? What's wrong?"

She quickly stood up, nearly knocking her chair backwards. She glanced behind her and then back at him. "Um. I have to go," she quickly said.

He stood as well. "Where?"

 "Home,"  she blurted out  in an uncertain voice. She ran a hand through her hair. "Um. It's been a long day and I'm tired."

He gave her a cursory look and walked around the table to her. "I'll give you a ride  then." The tone of his voice left no room for argument.

The short drive to her apartment was quiet, as he somehow knew would be.  Cordelia silently sat in the passenger seat, not commenting on anything, just staring out the window. What had sent her into this funk he desperately wanted to know. It was something that she was trying to deal with on her own, but having little success in managing. She looked as if she were drowning.

She was so lost in thought that he had to gently shake her once they reached her apartment building. She turned to him and tried to give him a smile, but failed miserably. Instead she focused back on the dashboard of the car, avoiding his questioning eyes.

 "Thanks for the ride. And for coming to see me. What you said… really… meant a lot."

He rested his arm on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry that we couldn't have straightened this out sooner. I didn't like the feeling of you being upset with me."

She quickly looked over at him in surprise and shook her head. "I was never mad at you, Giles," she looked away again and sighed. "Definitely not at you."

He watched her sit in the seat, not making a move to get out, even though her hand was on the doorhandle.

He sighed in exasperation. "Cordelia, what is-"

"I'm just tired," she interrupted softly.  She opened the door and quickly stepped out of the car. "Good night," she said politely as she closed the door and slowly began up the walk to her apartment.

He clenched his jaw in frustration. Lord, what was so hard for her to-

He frowned as he saw her stop in front of her apartment door. She made towards it as if to open it, but pulled back her hand falling to her side. She stood there a moment, apparently unable to decide what to do. She moved towards the door again only to stop and finally turn around to sit down on the stoop.

Giles got out of his car and quietly approached her. Sitting down next to her, he gently took her hand into his.

"I can't go in there," she murmured, rubbing her forehead. " I can't go in there because all I will do is sit there and think. Or dream. And I can't do that," she shook her head.

"Tell me what it is," he asked gently.

She hesitated a moment and finally spoke.

"Doyle's… dead."

He briefly closed his eyes. Oh, Christ. Dammit, dammit all to hell.

She had lost her friend. Another friend. And had been trying to deal with it alone. He didn't doubt Angel was trying to help her with her grief, but he was also dealing with his own. And if he knew Angel well enough, the vampire would retreat into himself as he often did to manage his grief, leaving Cordelia on her own.

He remained silent, feeling that what she needed more than anything at that moment was to simply talk. Taking firm hold of her hand, he waited for her to continue.

"He….was.. we were helping this group of people…half-demons. They were being hunted down by some crazy demon group… who wanted to get rid of all the half-breeds, as they called them. We were able to get them all on a ship to leave the city…Angel was trying to hold off the demons until we could get the others to safety, but…. They had this weapon that was going to kill all of us unless…Angel was going to go, but Doyle wouldn't let him. He saved us. Doyle died  saving us."

Her grip tightened on his hand and he looked over at her.

"He was half-demon," she laughed softly. " He had been afraid that I wouldn't go out with him if I knew, so he kept it from me. Until that night. I found out and we finally stopped our little circle dance and he asked me out." She turned to look at him her face wet with tears. "Then the jerk jumps on a big white light and goes poof," she let out a strangled laugh. "Shows how far a guy will go to get out of a date with me, huh?"

He winced slightly. Lord, Cordelia, I am so sorry.

She looked away again shaking her head. "I mean it wasn't like…I had just started to really see him as a guy that I might … that I could," she shook her head and stifled a sob. "He was my friend…and a little more," her face crumbled slightly and she looked down at the ground in front of her, trying not to give in to the emotions that Giles knew were consuming her.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say.

She sniffed and wiped at her face with her hand. "Yeah, me too." She paused. "He kissed me before he jumped," she smiled sadly looking over at him. "Of course he waits until the last second to … it was so sweet," she whispered. She brought her fingers to her lips briefly, silent now as she continued to play the scene back in her head.

"The last thing he said to me was 'Guess we'll never know if this was a face you could've learned to love," she stopped and sniffed. " He showed me his demon face-his… face … and all I could do was stare at him, and not believe that he was going to do what he was going to do.  I couldn't say anything to him-I couldn't -I didn't tell him what I thought of him.  I didn't tell him good-bye."  She suddenly looked down at his white hand that she tightly held  and quickly let go.

"I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean to hurt-"

"Cordelia I'm okay. I'm just-I'm worried about you," he looked her in the eye, his concern growing. When he tried to wrap an arm around her shoulders, she shrank away holding up her hands to keep him at bay.

"It hurts Giles. It hurts to feel…I …keep… losing people. People just keep leaving…and I'm sick of feeling this way. I'm sick of crying, I'm sick of making new friends only to lose them, I'm sick of going through this. I can't do this anymore."

Giles gently grasped her hands and pushed them down. "I know it hurts. I know the pain in losing someone under tragic circumstances. It's so tempting to just bury the pain, bury the feelings and tell yourself not to bother to care about anything anymore. The thought of having to experience that pain again is terrifying. Better to not care, so you can't be hurt later, right?"

Her eyes stared into his and he shook his head, lifting a hand to gently wipe the tears from her cheek. "Living your life without letting others in, without caring for others and letting them care for you is not living, but simply existing and I doubt Doyle would want that for you. I don't think you want to honor him, his death, like that. He would want you to live, Cordelia. To live and be happy."

She let her head rest against his hand slightly, more tears seeping from her eyes, as she listened to his words.

"Why do people, good people, have to die? Doyle was one of the best guys that I have ever known. He didn't deserve to die Giles, especially not like that-" she paused and bowed her head. "I heard him scream," she finally whispered.

She let out a whimper, unable to hold back her grief any longer, and sagged into his embrace. He pulled her close, letting her head rest against his shoulder, praying that the little he was doing somehow helped her and gave her comfort.

His heart ached for his young friend, who had been dealt so much hardship in her short life and now was grieving for one of the few she had considered a friend. It wasn't fair that she had to suffer through this, it just wasn't damn fair.

But then life never really was fair, was it?

He knew that she could survive this, that she would be able to move past yet another tragedy in her life. He didn't have any doubt about that. She wasn't the type of person to quit. She was a fighter. She wouldn't have survived this long if she wasn't.

But at the same time he knew that losing Doyle was just one more reason for her to be cautious, to be wary of people and how they fit into her life. It would be one more brick in the wall that she built around herself, her wall of protection. Behind it she would slowly, but surely heal, but she would try to do it alone.

He just could not let that happen.

As hard as she tried to resist, he would make her see that she needed people in her life and that there were people that wanted and needed her in their lives as well.

He was one of them.

To think that she had almost died last week and hadn't only because of Doyle's sacrifice -

Giles sighed heavily and hugged the weeping girl closer to him.

God bless you Doyle, he thought. Thank you wherever you are.