The scraping of a key in the latch brought Giles out of his daydream.

"Hey," Willow greeted him.

She shrugged her backpack onto the floor of the foyer, crossed the living room and plopped unceremoniously onto the couch.

"Okay, I think I'm done," she announced, closing her eyes.

"Done?"

"With school. Screw the last month of classes. I've always felt a degree was overrated."

Giles smiled sympathetically.

"You just have to get through exams."

Her answering sigh was vocal and conveyed her exasperation.

"Right," he said. "Well, it is the weekend. So, no need to worry about it just now."

She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

"You're right, forty-eight hours of recuperation…"

Giles cleared his throat.

"Willow, not that I mind, but what are you doing here, exactly? Shouldn't you be taking advantage of this time between potential apocalypses to uh… I don't know, do whatever it is you do when you're not battling evil?"

"Actually, I don't know what I'm doing here." She looked thoughtful. "It's just kinda where I ended up when I left campus. I've spent more time at your place than Buffy's over the last few months. I guess, it's just homier now to me. Sorry. You're right. I should go."

"You don't have to," Giles answered. "It wasn't a reprimand, just an observation."

Willow relaxed back into the couch and looked at him.

"What were you doing?"

"Honestly?" He took off his glasses and placed them on the coffee table. "Nothing. Just thinking. Thinking too much."

She smiled. "I know what that's like. Oz and Tara both thought my head never shut up. Of course, they could usually think of a way to… "

He watched in amusement as the tips of her ears turned bright pink.

"What I mean is… too much thinking isn't good for you. What's going on in here?"

She pointed to her temple.

"I suppose that I always feel a sense of… loss? I'm not sure how to describe it. After the danger has passed…"

"Emotional adrenaline letdown?"

He thought for a moment.

"Something like that. It's perverse."

"It's not," Willow shook her head. "It has nothing to do with wishing you had failed. It's all about having all these expectations about what could happen and then after it's over, you have nothing to do with all those extra feelings."

"You're very observant."

She shrugged. "That's why Xander, Buffy and I usually get hammered after a big throwdown. But, not much chance of that happening now."

She glanced down at her basketball-sized belly.

"Another way I deal with it is looking forward to the next big thing."

"Well, I suppose that's my problem," Giles admitted. "I didn't want to leave you all when I first moved back to England, but I did it because there was nothing left for me in Sunnydale, from a… career perspective. And even though a lot has changed over the last couple of years, that aspect hasn't. This," he waved his hand. "All of this. This is Buffy's battle. I'm just a… sidekick. It leaves too much time for thinking."

Willow's smile was a knowing one. "Ah, yes. The curse of being a sidekick. I guess we've all been there. But it's not all bad, Giles. I mean, Buffy's gonna need some serious coaching what with the international slayage. She'll probably need you to go with her in at least a few of these cases… get a lay of the land. Besides, it's only a matter of time before the next big evil pops up."

A reluctant smile tugged at his lips.

"Also… I mean," she indicated her belly. "You're going to be having a daughter soon. That's gonna occupy some of your time. I would think…"

"Oh, Willow," he got up from his chair and repositioned himself next to her on the sofa. "I didn't mean to imply that it wouldn't. I told you I was just thinking too much."

"I know," she sighed. "You know, we haven't even talked about names yet."

"Names?" he repeated.

"Well, I thought we could give our baby one," she replied, smirking. "You know, for tradition's sake."

He blanched a little at the use of the possessive pronoun. Intellectually, he knew, of course, that the baby was half his. But Willow was the one carrying her. His role in her life had yet to be determined.

"Um, well," he started. "I, uh… have you thought of any?"

"Oh sure," she said. "Tons. Most of them are way archaic and goofy. But I think I've weeded out the more ridiculous ones. I really like Katherine or Rebecca."

"Those are nice."

"I used to like the name Anya, but, you know, then Anya kinda ruined it for me… I also like Emma or Anne."

He nodded, "Sure, either one of those."

"And, I mean, there's some kinda pagan names I like. I mean, I know you can go too far, but I think 'Sage' is pretty."

Giles nodded again, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Or Patchouli."

"Sure."

"Oh, come on!" Willow exclaimed. "I'm not going to name my daughter 'Sage Patchouli Giles!' I'm just trying to get you to contribute."

"Wait," Giles said. "You want to give her my last name?"

Willow colored slightly. "Well, I thought Rosenburg-Giles sounded like I was limiting her to a career in the diamond district of Brooklyn."

He shook his head slightly. "That's not what I—

"I know what you meant." She looked at her hands. "And it may not be very pro-feminist of me, but, I just, I like the way your name sounds. And my last name, it's my parents', you know? I haven't really felt like I was part of their family for years now. And I thought, I'm starting my own family now and you're part of it. So… I hope you don't mind."

He pulled her close to his chest with a one-armed hug and kissed her forehead.

"I certainly don't mind."

She smiled up at him and he felt the same hot flush from the night before.

"What about Charlotte?" He asked.


He found himself alone in bed when he woke up the next morning. He sleepily fumbled across the sheets where she had slept, but the covers didn't retain any of her warmth. She must have left hours ago.

He glanced at the alarm clock and groaned in disgust. It was nearly ten.

Emotional adrenaline letdown indeed.

A vibration from the nightstand jarred him further out of sleep.

"Hello?" He answered the phone.

"Giles," Buffy greeted him. "We've got a problem."

"What's that?"

"It's Ethan. He's missing."

Giles was sure his heart stopped beating for a full minute.

"What do you mean, missing?"

"I mean, Riley contacted me just now. Graham and the other guards were found with their throats slit in the Hummer not an hour outside of Sunnydale."

"Why are we just hearing about this?" Giles demanded. "They were supposed to have left four days ago!"

"I don't know exactly. It seems like the four guards were making regular reports. The Initiative was informed that Ethan would be staying in Sunnydale longer than expected. The reports stopped two days ago and they just sent someone to check it out."

"He could have recorded those reports before…"

"He killed them," Buffy finished. "That's what I'm thinking."

Giles put his face in his hands.

"Ethan with a four day head start," he muttered, stumbling to his feet. "We need to meet."

"I'll get Xander. Wouldn't hurt to have Anya on this either," Buffy said.

"Yes, and Willow as well."

"Well, she's over there, isn't she?"

"No, she left early this morning."

"It's Saturday. Where did she go?"

"I don't know, I assume…" he broke off abruptly as his eye caught on something on the carpet. A Polaroid photo had been slipped under his door. His hand shook violently as he picked up the picture and took in the image. It was of Ethan. He stood above Willow and Giles as they slept. With one hand, he held the camera, the other was poised over Willow's sleeping form, like a cobra ready to strike.

He felt ill.

"Oh, God no," he whispered.

"Giles?"

"It's Willow. Ethan has Willow."

"I don't understand," Xander started in. "How could he have possibly gotten in and out of your house with her and you never woke up?"

"Wait, what was Willow doing at your house?" Anya asked. "Are you two sleeping together? I mean, not under-magical-influence sleeping together? Why am I always the last to know?"

"I think it's pretty obvious he used some sort of magical whammy on Giles to keep him asleep," Buffy answered Xander. "And Anya, we haven't seen you in two months, so if you're out of the loop, it's your own fault. You're here to help, so please just shut up!"

Giles paced the length of Buffy's dining room table.

"Where would he have taken her?" He asked for the fourth time since he arrived. "God, what could he be doing to her? This is bloody useless!"

Anya raised her hand.

"What?" Giles snapped.

"We could do a location spell," she suggested. "I mean, unless you think that he'd be cloaking himself somehow."

"That doesn't seem likely," Buffy said. "I mean, he left you that photo, Giles. He's clearly doing this for your benefit."

Giles's breath caught in his throat.

"He probably wants you to find him, don't you think?" She asked.

He nodded. "Probably. But the locator spell. It's pretty advanced. We'd need someone like Willow…"

"What about me?" Buffy shrugged.

"You?" Xander asked.

"I mean, I don't have to understand it, do I? I just need to channel the energies or whatever…"

"I could talk you through it," Anya volunteered.

"Fine," Giles acquiesced, sitting down hard in a dining room chair. "Let's just be quick about it."

"Okay, we need something to represent a map of Sunnydale," Anya instructed.

"How about a map of Sunnydale?" Xander asked. "There's one in the desk in the living room."

After spreading out the map and dusting it with crystal powder, Buffy recited the words as Anya coached her. Her breathing lengthened and her eyes grew wide. She gripped the table so hard that it splintered at her fingertips.

"Buffy?" Xander asked.

"Look!" She said.

The particles of crystal powder swirled and lumped together on a spot on the map right above Broad Street.

"Hah! It worked."

"Good job, Buff," Xander said, cuffing her on the shoulder.

"Wait," Anya said. "Isn't that—

"The Magic Box," Giles finished. "Bastard."


"You lot just stay back," Giles said as they neared the wreckage of the magic store.

"Yeah, that's likely," Buffy said.

"I mean it! You have no idea what Ethan Rayne is capable of…"

"Bringing Halloween costumes to life? Dosing band candy? Trying to possess me with an ancient Etruscan demon? I think I have a pretty good idea, Giles."

"Yes, but—

"Quit wasting time," Buffy cut him off. "This is Willow we're talking about. We're all coming."

Giles sighed and headed into the ruined store. A huge wooden column blocked his path.

Buffy heaved the pillar out of the way with a grunt.

"I would have liked to have seen you do that by yourself," she remarked.

His pursed lips were all of the thanks that she received.

"Wait, how did Ethan get in here then?" Xander asked.

"He probably went around to the back," Giles answered. "The old training room was only thing that wasn't destroyed."

The four picked their way through the rubble. When they reached the back room, Buffy kicked the door open and stood back.

A grotesque scene greeted them.

Ethan sat back on a folding chair, a leather-bound codex in hand, observing the sight before him with a twisted smile. Willow dangled in mid-air in a stasis field that Giles recognized as the one that he had used on her the year previously to block her magicks. Her head lolled to the side. Her eyes were glassy and half-closed. A few inches above the vertical scar on her right arm was a black mark. Giles felt a twisting in his gut as he realized what it was: The mark of Eyghon. The new tattoo shined like black vinyl over irritated red skin.

"Ah, Ripper," Ethan greeted the new arrival. "And the rest of the Scooby gang."

"Ethan, what have you done?" Giles whispered.

"Nothing yet," he replied. "I had to wait until you arrived, old mate."

Buffy and Giles both made a run for the magician and were simultaneously knocked back by an invisible force.

"Everyone just calm down."

"Why Ethan? Why her?"

"You know why, Ripper," Ethan leered. "I can't imagine a more fitting end to our relationship than to watch you be torn apart by the hands of your own lover."

"Ethan… you know what this will do to her," Giles said, nearly begging. "Even if you don't kill her…you could kill her child."

"Your child, you mean," Ethan said. "Yes, that could be an unfortunate side effect. But it's a risk I'm willing to take."

"What did I do to you that you hate me this much? What—

"You really need to know?" Ethan screamed. "After all this time, you need a list? You left me for that bloody poofter Randall for starters…"

"That was twenty years ago, Ethan!"

"You left me rotting in that hell hole in London, while you crawled back to your school mates at Oxford. I was wrecked and you did nothing! Then, you got your bloody life back. Became a Watcher. And then you had me imprisoned in that dungeon in the middle of the desert! Do you know what they did to me there, Rupert? Or did you ever even think?

"They dissected me. They psychically tore me apart! They leeched out all my powers to study them and when they couldn't be contained, they gave them back. They didn't know what they were doing! It was worse than death!

"Then, you made a call and got me out. Only to have me fucked with and tortured by your little harpy."

He pointed at Willow.

Giles held up his hands.

"You're right. It's my fault. Just please, let her go. Do whatever you want to me! But, just let her go!"

"Sorry, mate," Ethan said. "We're not doing things on your terms anymore."

He glanced at Willow and she seemed to wake up slightly.

She looked down at her feet hovering inches above the ground. Her gaze drifted over to her friends.

"What's happening?" She asked groggily.

"Ethan…" Giles tried again.

He smirked and a bolt like green lightening shot out of the book that he held in his left hand.

"Gi— Willow's voice was cut off with a scream. Her eyes flashed with an ethereal green glow.

"No," Giles moaned.

Willow's answering smile was filled with malice.

"You," she said, in a deep voice entirely unlike her own. "Did you really think the vampire could stop me forever? I have walked this world for millennia, old man. And you thought you could contain me. You and your friends. I've destroyed all of them. One by one. And you're next."

"He has a point, Ripper," Ethan said.

"Ethan, don't—

With a wave of his hand, the magical bounds that suspended Willow and Eyghon in stasis dissolved and she fell onto hands and knees with a snarl. Her head snapped up and she ran at Giles at full force.

Lost in his gloating, Ethan didn't notice that he was in the direct trajectory of the attack. He was knocked off his feet and fell headfirst into a concrete slab jutting out from the wall.

Eyghon didn't break a stride. The demon that Willow carried fell on him with its hands around Giles' throat.

"Giles!" Buffy exclaimed. She ran towards the demon but hesitated before she attacked. There was no way to stop Eyghon without hurting Willow.

"What do I do?" She shrieked.

"It's okay!" Anya said.

"What?!"

"She won't kill him!" Anya said. "Not right away. Eyghon will jump into his body. That's how he kills his victims. If you want to save Willow…"

Giles couldn't breathe. He could feel the blood thundering in his ears. As much as every instinct told him to fight back, he couldn't. The demon was wearing Willow's face. Somewhere behind that mask of unearthly hatred, she was there.

Anya's voice echoed in his head.

If you want to save Willow…

Buffy's face came into his field of vision. She asked him something, but he couldn't make sense of the words.

He tried to tell her it was okay, but only a voiceless whistle came out of his throat.

He was vaguely aware that Eyghon's grasp on his throat was slackening. Willow's eyes flashed once more and he felt her full weight as she fell against his chest. A cold, dark wave of energy rushed over him and all was quiet.

Willow's body felt unimaginably heavy as she collapsed against Giles. She wanted to lay there forever. But there were hands on her shoulders and under her arms. Someone was pulling her back.

There were voices.

Xander and Buffy.

They were worried.

"Willow, we gotta go," Xander said in her ear.

"Why? Wha—

"It's Giles," Buffy said.

She didn't understand.

Giles was laying on the ground, but he seemed okay. He was starting to stand up.

"Eyghon got him," another voice said.

Willow looked up. Anya.

She followed her glance back to where Giles had fallen on the floor. As he got to his feet, his movements were jerky and spasmodic.

He turned to her, his face hardened into a façade of anger. His eyes weren't his own.

"Oh God," she scuttled back against Buffy.

"We gotta go, Will," Xander said again.

"We can't leave him!" She protested.

"Leave, little girl," the demon told her. "Your lover's long gone. I have unfinished business with him."

"There's nothing we can do right now, Willow," Buffy said.

"Yeah, the only way to stop Eyghon is to cut off the host's head," Anya agreed. "We should probably wait until you're not around to do that."

"That's not the only way," Willow said through clenched teeth.

She hauled herself to her feet and rushed at Eyghon with her hands extended.

"Willow, what are you doing?" Xander ran toward her, but Buffy held him back.

"Hold on a minute, Xand."

"She's gonna get herself—

"Just wait."

Energy swirled around Willow like dark light.

"Leave this alone, witch," Eyghon hissed. "This isn't your fight. He's had this coming for years."

Willow's eyes burned black.

"You can't have him."

Holding her hands to Giles's chest, she drained the energy from him. The air around them cackled with static and the demon inside him shrieked in pain.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What is she doing?" Xander asked.

"Ohhh," Anya gasped in realization. "She's putting the demon in danger, so he has to jump bodies."

"Won't he just jump back into her?" Xander asked.

"Maybe," Anya said. "But the mythology says that when the Sleepwalker is in trouble, he transfers into the nearest dead or unconscious body."

They glanced at the floor where Ethan lay into a dark pool of his own blood.

Willow winced as the energy between her and Giles became more powerful and unstable. The demon was feeling something, that much was certain. She needed it to jump soon. She didn't know how much more of this Giles would survive.

"Hold on," she said. "Please, just hold on."

The green energy that illuminated his eyes winked out and his knees buckled. He fell to the hard concrete with a shuddering breath.

She gathered him in her arms, with his head on her lap.

"Giles? Giles? Rupert! Please, wake up! Giles!"

His head was throbbing and he wanted to stay in the dark. It didn't hurt as much there. But someone was calling his name. She was calling his name. She sounded scared.

Her eyes were still wide and black.

He knew he twitched in fright when he first looked at her. She was still a dark and powerful force when she wanted to be.

"It's okay," she assured him.

Green irises rimmed her dark pupils and she was Willow again. She was safe.

For the moment.

"Where's Eyghon?"

He sat up and the room spun. He felt her small, cool hand on the back of his neck.

"Ethan," she said simply.

Giles watched in unconcealed horror as the unconscious body of his oldest acquaintance thrashed back to life, animated by the demon he had summoned.

"Giles," a voice came from the door. Buffy.

"What should we do?"

"Help me up."

Buffy crossed over to him and pulled him forcefully to his feet. Giles limped over to the shattered weapons rack that held the training implements he and Buffy had once used. He selected a broad sword. It left a trail of sparks as he pulled it along the cement to where Ethan lay.

His old friend's head snapped up and Eyghon snarled at him with Ethan's mouth.

"I'm sorry, Ethan," Giles said. "But I should have done this years ago."

He lifted the blade above his head and let it fall, neatly severing Ethan's head from his neck. The body seized gruesomely for several seconds and then lay still, finally dissolving into a viscous blue liquid.

Giles let out a breath and turned to face the group. Anya looked impressed. Buffy's eyes were wide with horror. Xander kept opening and closing his mouth, for once at a loss for words.

He ignored them for the moment and knelt down next to Willow. He tilted her chin upwards and searched her eyes for a sign that she was alright.

"Willow?"

"I'm okay." Her smile trembled. "I think I'm okay. What about you?"

He shook his head.

"I don't know."

"Let's get out of here, huh?" Xander suggested.

Giles wrapped one arm around Willow's waist and put her other arm across his shoulders to help her to her feet.

She stood for a second and then swayed, her balance faltering.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know." Her voice seemed far off.

Even in the faint light coming through the cracks in the wall, Giles could tell she was pale. Too pale.

"I think I sat in something wet," she said, brushing the back of her dress with her hand.

Giles grabbed her wrist and looked at her palm as it came back red and glistening.

"No," he stated. "You're bleeding."

Willow's breath hitched and she fell against him.

"Willow!" Xander rushed to her side and helped Giles support her.

"We need to go. Now."


The trauma unit at the hospital was always busy on a Saturday night, and today was no exception. Nurses wheeling crash carts and the scuff of tennis shoes on tile as interns rushed back and forth culminated in a cacophony outside of the waiting room.

Giles heard none of it.

He held his head in his hands as he replayed clips from the last few months in his head. Torturing himself with the memories of her.

Willow falling against him in shock when she found out she was pregnant, then comforting him in his car a few hours later. The undercurrent of excitement in her voice over the phone when she told him that they were having a girl. He thought of the smile that never seemed the leave her face, even through all of the chaos that had surrounded them as of late. He thought of the warmth of her body and the way she smelled as they drifted off to sleep.

He had given her a gift she never asked for and now the mistakes of his past had come to take it away.

For the first time, he completely understood what had compelled Willow that June evening in England when she lay down in the bathtub in the coven house and severed her arteries from wrist to forearm. Guilt could be suffocating.

"Giles?"

He looked up into the blinding florescent light at Xander.

"What is it, Xander?"

"You, um, you still have blood on your hands," he said, taking a seat next to him.

Giles's laugh was hollow.

"So I do," he said.

"You should probably take care of that. I mean, you don't want Willow to see…"

"You were right, Xander," he said, looking straight ahead. "Everything you accused me of was right. But I can't hear it right now. She's been in surgery for an hour and the doctor said she'll- she will- she could lose the baby, so if you don't think that's punishment enough…"

"God, Giles. I wasn't going to say anything like that!" Xander looked appalled.

"Then what is it?"

"I just stopped by your house and got some new clothes," he said. "I thought you might want to clean up."

He didn't respond for several seconds.

"Giles?"

"I don't-" he cleared his throat. "I don't think I can move."

Xander stood up and helped him to his feet. Giles leaned on the younger man and let him guide him to the men's bathroom.

Once inside, Xander locked the door and ran the water in the sink. Giles put his hands under the warm stream and stared at them, not really knowing to proceed. He heard Xander sigh and work the soap dispenser. He lathered Giles's arms up to his elbows.

"God," he said again. "You've got blood all over you."

"I should just throw these clothes away."

"Probably for the best."

Xander shut the water off.

"Thank you," Giles said softly.

"Giles, I…" He heard Xander swallow noisily. "I wasn't right. About what I said. I wasn't right to stay mad at you."

He looked up at Xander, his face slack and expressionless.

"I know you'd never hurt Willow or any of us on purpose. It was my stuff. Some of it was Anya. Some of it was just me being… I don't know, jealous, I guess."

Giles nodded.

"This was not your fault."

His answering laugh sounded like a dry hiss.

"You can't hold yourself responsible for something you did when you were—

"Your age?" Giles asked.

"You were a different person," Xander shrugged. "Everybody deserves to be forgiven, Giles. You shouldn't have to watch over your shoulder for demons from the past."

"Maybe you shouldn't. But you do."

Xander looked at the floor.

"Whatever happens," he paused. "You and Willow. You will have my support."

Giles wanted to thank him, but his breath caught in his throat. He flinched slightly as he felt Xander's arms around him.

"I'm sorry," Xander said.

He patted Xander on the back uncertainly and pulled back.

"I can take care of the rest myself, Xander."

Xander nodded and handed him his change of clothes.

"Do you want any coffee?" He asked, heading for the door.

"Sure."

Not that it would make a difference. Giles was sure he would never sleep again.


The first thing Willow felt when she woke up, groggy and disconnected, was relief. She could still feel her baby girl inside of her, just heavy enough to be uncomfortable as she lay on her back. The next feeling was confusion. At six months of pregnancy, she shouldn't feel quite that heavy. There was an extra weight on her abdomen.

Her hand drifted down her side and settled on a mass of hair.

She started a little and the mass moved.

"Giles?" She asked.

He looked up at her confusedly, his eyes unfocused.

"Willow?" he blinked. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine! How long have I been out?"

Giles ran a hand over his mouth.

"I don't know. Six hours?"

"Mmm," she relaxed into the pillows. "That's not so bad. What happened? I mean, after we left the Magic Box?"

"You- you uh, fainted in the car."

"Seem to do a lot of that," Willow muttered.

"You were rushed to the OR, with hypervalemic shock caused by placental rupture."

"Oh God!"

"They were able to stop the source of the bleeding and they gave you a few units of blood."

"Is everything…?"

"You're okay," he said. "And the baby- the baby is…"

"Giles?" She asked, eyes wide.

"She's fine," Giles said. "They said she's going to be fine. You just need to rest for a few days."

"Then why are you squeezing my hand like that?" She glanced down at their hands. Her fingertips were tinged with red.

"Sorry, sorry." He dropped her hand like it burned.

"Giles, what are you not telling me?"

"Nothing. Really."

Willow adjusted the bed so she was sitting upright and looked at him searchingly. She slipped her hand back into his.

"Tell me."

He looked down at the hospital sheets.

"They, the doctors, they told me when you went into surgery that, that it was unlikely that… They told me that she wasn't going to be okay. That the baby wasn't going to survive."

Willow's brow creased in worry and she ran her thumb in small circles over his hand.

"They were wrong."

"There was so much blood, Willow…"

He looked up at her.

"I know." She ran a hand through his hair and rested it on his neck. "But we're fine."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I would have never hurt you. I would have never hurt her."

She brought his face to her lips and kissed him at his hairline.

"I know that."

She smiled grimly as he rested his head on her chest. The moisture from his tears quickly soaked through the flimsy fabric of her hospital gown. She murmured words of comfort as she ran her hand over the back of his head.

"You should get as far away from me as possible."

"Well, now you're just being dramatic."

He looked up at her sharply, the skepticism heavy in his wet eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly. "And neither are you. We need you."

He broke her gaze and relaxed back onto her chest.

"The first thing we do," she continued. "Is get rid of these stupid tattoos. So there will be no more of Eyghon Revisited. Why did you keep yours anyway?"

"A symbol of my past, I suppose," he mumbled into her cotton gown. "If I were smart, I would have burned it off, like Ethan."

"Ethan," Willow repeated. "How are you feeling about that?"

He sat up.

"It's sick really," he said. "But I feel… relieved. Like a weight I didn't even know I was carrying is gone."

"It's not sick," Willow said. "He was a twisted fuck."

She unconsciously wrapped her arms around her belly.

Giles glanced down at her.

"I should have killed him years ago," he said. "It makes me sick what he did…"

"You can't help all of the garbage you collect in life, Giles," Willow said. "And you can't help that you had hope that he would change."

"I don't know how, Willow, but I swear, I'll make it up to you."

She smiled at him sadly. "When are you going to realize, Giles, that the only one blaming you is yourself? You carry around guilt like a badge of honor. It strikes me as the worst kind of irony that the man who forgave me for almost killing him and destroying the world is incapable of forgiving himself. If I've managed to come to terms with what I did, then you should too."

He looked away and she sighed.

"There's nothing to make up for. But if you want to do me a favor, will you stay a little longer?"

"Sure."

"Good."

She moved over to the side of the bed.

"Come here."

He blinked.

"Um, not sure if there's enough room."

"Well, squish in," Willow commanded.

He laid down next to her carefully. She laced her fingers through his and guided his hand around her.

"That's better," she sighed. "You're the only one that can get me to sleep."