And fade into the common light of day. William Wordsworth



Giles and Xander carried Buffy down from the tower on a makeshift stretcher. She remained unconscious throughout the trip. Once they were on the ground the only words came out of necessity.

"Xander, drive Buffy to the hospital," Giles delegated. "Tara and Willow tend to Spike, make sure the knife wound is clean, and then get him some blood. Make sure he gets to his crypt." He took a moment to consider Anya. "You may want to go home. I don't expect you'll be able to sleep, but you should be exhausted. I have a prescription that may help you if you'd like." Giles and Anya now shared a common bond: both had killed an innocent out of obligation within a half hour of each other.

Anya nodded and after Giles set Buffy into Xander's car he went to his own and extracted a vial of blue pills from the glove compartment.

"Do you want any?" she asked. Giles raised a hand. "I have more at home." Anya weighed this for a moment, then turned towards home.

Spike began to limp to his crypt, barely registering the pain in his shoulder. He knew he had only a short time to make it back, before the sun came up. Willow and Tara said nothing, just followed him, quickening their pace as he did. Giles was left alone.

Dawn lay on a wooden crate as though she had been placed there rather than fallen a hundred feet. Her features were peaceful, a sharp contrast to the grimace of horror it had held in the last few moments of her life. Giles tried to maintain the same sterile numbness as when he had smothered Ben. He had no time for his own emotions to get in the way, he had numerous bodies to move before the police finally showed up in the morning. Everyone in Sunnydale knew the police didn't dare come out at night, leaving the time to a young girl to solve their problems, Giles thought bitterly. He decided to leave Dawn until last.