Okay, so please do review ya'll. I really want to know what you think of this chapter. :) Here ya go, and Thanks so Much! Anyway, off to finish homework now...ugh.

Chapter 10

As early in the morning as it was, the waiting room in Sunnydale's hospital was thankfully near to empty and Buffy's friends sat around her in the cold chairs at one corner of the room, staring after the information she'd just given them.

"Oh my god," Willow gasped. "You mean right now Giles could be...like..."

"Anything could be going on in there, I'd bet," Buffy confirmed briefly. "I'm deciding to believe he's going to be fine otherwise, but we still have to find a way to get him out. Even if he could do it on his own like I did, I don't want to wait for that. In the few hours I was under, I lived a month in there."

Xander frowned. "A month of what?"

At her side Riley's arm around her shoulders tightened just a little. Even though she hadn't given details about much of anything, hearing about it at all had kicked him into overprotective mode.

"It's not important. It was bad, and if I'm right and Giles is trapped like I was, I hate to think what could be happening to him. I don't know if time is always different in the same way with every case, but we can't take that chance."

"Well yeah, of course," Willow nodded emphatically.

Xander shrugged. "Yeah...not to pry or anything. I only asked cause, you know, I care."

Buffy gave him a weak smile. "I know. But I'll be fine, really. We have Giles to worry about right now."

"Buffy."

She looked up at the call of her name, and her eyebrows went up when she saw who was standing at the entrance to the waiting room. She stood, and the others did too.

"Angel. What...?"

The vampire shrugged as he strode over to meet them. "I spent about five minutes sitting in that apartment and realized I couldn't do that all day. I got here my own way."

Buffy glanced about to make sure no one they didn't know was too close, and lowered her voice back to the level she'd used when explaining Sohlehks powers and such to the others moment before. "But there's no sewer access in Giles's house!"

"No, but there's easy enough access not far from there." She stared him down for a moment, and as broad-shouldered and gorgeous as he was, Angel still managed to look sheepish. "So there's a slightly scorched blanket I'll have to replace later."

She rolled her eyes, but she smiled. As insane as things were, strangely enough the melancholy of having him here didn't hurt right now. It helped. She squeezed Riley's arm and said quietly, "I'm going to hug him, and you're not going to go postal on me." She looked at her boyfriend pointedly, though he got so far as to open his mouth to protest, he seemed to realize that now was not the time to make trouble. He let go of her and took a step back with Willow and Tara and Xander and Anya, settling for a look of disgruntled relent.

Buffy gave Riley a smile that eased his expression a little, and then turned to Angel, who readily accepted and returned the warm embrace she gave him.

"Thanks for coming out here," she told him again, able to take the time to put more feeling in it this time.

"Both you and Giles were in the vision. I couldn't let anything happen to either of you." Buffy pulled back, and he continued, smiling a little. "After all, I may not be Giles's favorite person, but he's a good guy, and he's helped me out before. And you're not bad yourself."

Buffy would have chuckled under any other circumstances, but she could only manage to keep the smile she already had on for another moment or two before it fell. "Giles is still in trouble."

"What's going on?"

Rupert Giles despised hospitals. He saw too much of them, particularly hated it when he was the one trapped in one, and now was no exception.

Except, perhaps, that this time was worse than any other.

It had been more than thirty hours since an ambulance had whisked him away from the warehouse in Docktown, and he had now been long-since clean, medicated, bandaged, and well fed. Or as well as a hospital's food could be. None of it helped much.

No one had come in the ambulance with him. Riley went with Buffy when her body was taken to the morgue, and Willow would not seperate from Tara. As far as Rupert had heard in snatches of conversation, Willow and Tara had taken Riley's vehicle to pick up Anya, and they had all ended up at the hospital. Willow had promptly discovered where both Xander and Giles had been taken, and claimed to be family to both of them to be certain the remains of the Scoobies would have a conduit to information on the condition of their injured friends.

Giles had seen them all briefly the night before, when he had finally been allowed visitors, but beyond making sure that he would be all right, none of them had said much.

What was there to say?

Giles had been alone since then, and truth be told he wasn't certain he really wanted any company.

Last night the others had reported what little news there was on Xander, and it hadn't been good then. Rupert had hoped at first that he might be placed in the same room, or at least somewhere nearby, but the boy wasn't even on the same floor. His condition was different, and much worse, and he was in a different department entirely.

A soft knock on the doorframe made him blink, breaking his steady stare at nothing.

"Giles?"

He sat up slowly, wincing, and looked toward the doorway to see a single slim figure standing there. His left arm rested in a sling, but with the other he pulled his glasses from the tray at the side of the bed and slipped them on.

"Willow."

"Yeah...just me. Tara went to get us something to eat, and Anya won't leave Xander, and...and Riley kind of...disappeared..." There was a chair by the wall, but she didn't bother to pull it over. Instead she crossed to his bed and sat on the edge, and was silent at first.

"I'm sorry none of us came back to see you sooner. We were...just..."

"It's all right. I understand."

Willow grimaced, and several tears found their way from her eyes. She swiped at them almost angrily. "That's why I'm here, I guess," she said then. She blinked to clear her eyes, but it only brought more tears. "Damnit."

Giles reached up to lightly grip her wrist and pull her hand away from her face, letting her know it was all right. "I know."

Willow sobbed, still not quite looking at him. "I'm sorry. I-Iwasn't gonna come in here and-and do this. It's just...I mean, Tara's always there for me, and she loves me, and I know that, and I love her...but she doesn't know. She wasn't there, sophmore year, wh-when Buffy came, and you came, and everything changed, and-and-and...she can't know. She can't know what it feels like, knowing Buffy's gone," she cried. "Oh god, Buffy's gone..."

Rupert's throat closed off, and it was a long moment before he could take an unsteady breath and answer. "I know," he repeated in a strangled whisper.

It wasn't supposed to happen. It was never supposed to happen. Going into the role of Watcher to the active Slayer, he'd known it would likely be unavoidable, and in the beginning he'd tried to keep distant. He'd tried,damnit. He'd tried to stand by his training, to do things by the book, to be the type of Watcher that damnable Quentin Travers would probably have approved of—the type the Council wouldn't have fired.

Those efforts had quickly gone down the drain, and he hadn't been the least sad to see them go.

Then he'd tried to deny that it would ever happen, but it had. For every Slayer in history there was that one moment, the one where the enemy was too strong, or too numerous, or one small thing sent everything in the wrong direction in an otherwise run-of-the-mill battle. For every Slayer throughout time there had been that moment, when it ended. When they died. For most, it happened young. Often when they were younger even than Buffy...had been.

He'd tried to forget, to ignore, to rest in the assertion that his Slayer was better, had beaten the odds more than once and would continue to do so. He'd done everything, too, that he could to do his part in making certain that what he believed would be true. He'd trained her the best he knew how, to be as certain as one could be that it wouldn't happen. It wasn't going to happen to Buffy.

But it happened.

And Rupert Giles hurt.

The hole in his chest was larger even than when he'd lost Jenny, and at the time he hadn't thought that could be possible.

Willow gripped the hand that had taken her wrist a moment before, and squeezed almost painfully, but he didn't mind. The girl calmed herself enough to speak again, but the very tone of her voice made it clear that that wouldn't last long.

"Giles...Giles, they finally gave us more information on Xander," she said tightly. "They didn't really know anything yesterday, b-but when they had something, they told m-me, and..." Her resolve broke, and she began to sob again. "Giles, they don't think he'll make it another night. They're saying the da-damage is too extensive."

Oh god...

Willow was finally looking him in the eyes, and Giles knew his own were wide. He opened his mouth, but he didn't know how he could respond to that.

No. No no no no no.

"What if they're right? What if we lose him too? I've known him my whole life, Giles!" she cried. She pressed the back of her free hand to her mouth, hard, and her eyes fell again.

Rupert blinked, and his own tears fell. He squeezed the small hand in his, torn apart even more by the fact that he could really do nothing for her but be here.

"Oh...Willow..."

She dropped the hand at her mouth and was quiet for a moment. "How did everything go so wrong so fast?" she choked out finally. "What are we going to do?"

Giles swallowed. "I don't know," he admitted softly. "I know the task of keeping Sunnydale safe doesn't disappear just because..." He let out a breath. "I'm sorry. I wish I had a better answer for you."

Willow didn't say anything in response. Instead she released his hand and wrapped her arms around herself tightly. She leaned into his shoulder, the good one, pulling her legs up onto the edge of the bed, and curled there she silently began to cry again.

Giles didn't know what to do but hold her with his one cooperating arm...leaving him no hands with which to hold his cracking heart together.

"Damn," Angel said, once he'd heard the explanation Buffy had dished out a second time. His grimace faded, and he looked at her with concern. "Buffy, are you sure you're...?"

"Yes," she sighed. "How many times do I have to reiterate that we're worried about Giles right now?" The vampire shrugged, and she couldn't help being thankful for the concern.

"Do we have a plan?" Riley asked. "I mean, yeah, we definitely need to get him out of there if that's what's going on, but how? Whatever's doing this is definitely mystical."

"I know. Willow? Tara? Any ideas?"

Willow looked thoughtful. "Well you said you snapped out of it when you absolutely realized it wasn't real, right?"

"Well, yeah...but it was just what was happening right then that made it seem too much to be real. Before that it was bad, but it was realistic. Whatever's going on in Giles's head might not reach that point—or not soon enough for my tastes, anyway. I want him out now, not in a week when he's lived years in there. I told you guys; we've got to move fast on this."

"Oh I know, I heard you, and..." She trailed off and frowned. "No, that wouldn't work."

"What?" Buffy questioned.

"Well I was gonna say somebody should let him know it's not real, but—"

"No, that's good! Could you and Tara do that? Get me in there? Like, in his head? Or if not someone else, could you send one or both of you? That's an idea, right?"

Willow shrugged noncommitally. "In theory? Definitely. But that kind of spell is kind of abstract—tricky. I-I don't think we're there yet. I mean we could try, but..."

"It would be dangerous," Tara filled in. "Probably too dangerous; there would be too much of a risk of us doing something wrong and causing real damage to his mind, or possibly even to his physical brain—damage he couldn't come back from."

Xander crossed his arms where he leaned against the wall by the chairs only half of them were using. "But what if there's no other way?" he asked quietly.

Willow glanced up, eyebrows raised. "Hey, Tara and I aren't the only two of a kind here."

"Huh?"

Angel's head came up where he sat. "She has a point. We could find someone who can do it."

Xander blinked. "Like another witch?"

"Yeah."

"Whoa, okay, so not where I was going with that!"

Anya shrugged. "It's the only logical course of action." Her voice lowered and she grumbled, "Of course if I still had my powers and someone made a wish, I could do it myself."

Buffy was already nodding. "As much as I don't really like trusting anyone we don't know, I don't see what choice we have. Unless there are any other ideas?" Silence reigned for a long moment. "Right," she sighed. "I was afraid of that. Angel...?"

He was already standing. "I called Wes and Cordy from the apartment before I left; they'll be up and waiting for news on Giles anyway. I'll get them started going through our contacts. I know a few witches myself, but if none of them can do it, one of them'll know where to find someone who can."

"Good."

He paused a moment before going. "So we need someone who can get you into Giles's head?" he asked, just to clarify.

"That would be the general idea, yeah. Convincing him the dream is just a dream is the only way we know for sure to get him to wake up."

Angel nodded once and disappeared to look for a phone, and Buffy let out a breath and sat back in her chair. "I hate this," she mumbled. With a hopeful solution to the mystical problem in the works, her mind returned to the much more physical, and she couldn't help but remember that the progress she and the others had made in the conversation they'd just had would all be for naught if Giles wasn't alive tomorrow. Likely it would take that long to get someone here who could help them.

With her friends gathered around her, taking as much comfort from that as she could, Buffy rested her head back against the wall and did the only thing she could do—wait.

Just hang on, Giles. I'm coming. As soon as I can.

It was another whole day before Giles was released from the hospital, and even then his doctor wasn't entirely happy to let him go. It was late afternoon, and moving was slow, and besides the sling he felt stiff under his clothes with his ribs firmly wrapped and bandages around his shoulder to cover the wound there, but he was glad to be out of that blasted hospital bed. Willow and Tara were with him when he checked out, and even though his right arm worked just fine they wouldn't even let him carry the bag they'd brought him his clothes in.

He knew it would be useless to protest, so he didn't, and he waited until they'd paced—slowly, thanks to him—away from the front desk, to ask after Xander. Neither of them had said much of anything since they'd appeared not long ago.

Willow shrugged miserably. "I uh...we went back late last night, after we ate, to try to get Anya to eat something too, maybe sleep some. She finally did a little of both and then...well, Xander was awake for a few minutes there, but they're telling us that still doesn't mean much at this point."

"Could he speak?" Giles questioned gently.

Willow blinked back sudden tears and looked away. "A little. He...he said he loved us. All of us, but..." She trailed off, unable to continue, and as Giles felt his own throat clogging Tara finished for her, her quiet voice nearly inaudible.

"He said he thinks he's going to follow Buffy soon," she whispered.

"'Been doing it for years,' he said. 'Why stop now?'" Willow cried quietly. "And he smiled. He hasn't opened his eyes at all since then."

Giles swallowed. "Where is he?" he managed finally.

"We'll bring you there," Tara offered.

He nodded, and silently followed the two young witches toward the elevators.

Xander had been hurt before—knocked in the head as Giles himself was prone to have happen, or otherwise injured. He'd been in the hospital before. All of them had. But never like this. As tall as he was, he managed to look small in the bed, to almost blend with it as white as he was. He was clad only in the pants of a set of patient scrubs, the sheets pulled up only just shy of his waist, and his arms and torso were nearly covered in the bandages over the wounds.

If Dagkel had been given only seconds more to cause damage, Xander too would have been dead there on the floor of the warehouse.

Part of Giles wondered if that might have been better.

No, he thought immediately. There's still a chance he might live.

That had to be something.

He could only think that if Buffy were here, she would be searching high and low for another way to help than just waiting. Not knowing. It wouldn't change the fact that there was nothing to be done, but she would look anyway.

Because she'd loved Xander. Loved all of them. That much Giles knew no matter how much she wasn't the type to say such things often.

And he loved them all, too. That was why it hurt to be here, at Xander's bedside, seeing Anya in a nearly catatonic state across from him and knowing that if he hadn't been injured and trapped in a hospital room of his own it would have been himself in that chair for the past two days.

The family you built, Buffy—what's to become of it now?

"Anya...?"

She blinked and looked up, and then her eyebrows climbed a bit in recognition of his presence, but at first she didn't say anything. She resumed gazing at Xander.

"It's not right, you know," she said eventually. "I should have known better than to date a human. They can't heal themselves. They can't even teleport themselves out of danger to avoid injury in the first place. Then things like this happen, and..." She trailed off, her usual frankness giving way to the rarely seen true emotion. "And then it hurts."

Giles didn't sense Willow or Tara behind him, and realized they must have let him come in alone. He and Anya were alone for now, with Xander, and he wondered if Anya had voiced these thoughts to anyone else. Something told him she hadn't.

"It's one of many imperfect things about being what we are," he answered, the truth weighing heavily on him. "It's part of what makes us human, I suppose. Mortality." He fell silent for a moment. "But no...that doesn't keep it from hurting to be reminded."

Anya shrugged, and after another moment she spoke again. He didn't think she'd really listened to him, but the fact that she'd spoken to him even as deeply as she just had was more than he'd expected. Still, he worried for her. "He'll wake up again. He will. I mean, he has to. And I'll be here when he does. I'll stay right here. That's tradition, isn't it? If it were me he'd be doing the same."

The corner of Rupert's mouth twitched up. "Of course he would."

When it became clear that was all Anya had to say, he focused on Xander again himself. With both of the boy's shoulders covered in bandages he wouldn't have wanted to put a hand there, so instead Giles rested a hand on Xander's head and fervently wished it wouldn't be the last time.

He would have been content to stand there that way for as long as he could, but there was a chair—one Willow had been using, more than likely. Anya stayed where she was, holding Xander's hand. Giles sat too, because he had nowhere else to go, and when he found himself absently stroking the boy's hair, he didn't stop himself.

Willow and Tara came in again, after a while, but Rupert didn't move. At one point, he thought he saw Xander open his eyes and blearily look at them all, just for a moment. He thought perhaps he'd even seen a small smile like the one Willow said he'd given the day before. But Giles was very tired, and he'd been drifting off, and later he couldn't remember whether or not he'd imagined it.

He chose to believe it had happened, because when Xander died the next morning he wanted the memory to be real.