Over the next month, a haphazard routine emerged, contradictory and erratic. Buffy's mood swings continued to drive them along an emotional rollercoaster, and her energy level remained unnaturally high. Her nightmares became worse, and as the weeks dragged on, she slept less and less, sometimes only resting out of sheer exhaustion. During all of this, her affections diminished until they were barely touching each other. She was on edge, all of the time.
Giles poured over his texts, over and over, finding nothing to help him understand. He finally reached his breaking point and decided when Buffy got home from class, he would sit her down and just ask her to explain. 'Assuming she can,' he thought.
She stormed into the flat, furious, and Giles was just about to let the idea drop for a better time - that is, until Buffy approached him directly and shoved him onto the couch.
"Buffy, what on earth -?" She tossed a folded paper at him and set to pacing. "What is this?" he asked, then stopped moving as he read through the missive. It was a letter from Beth, begging him to come to London. He looked up to her. "Buffy?"
"You tell me. Make this okay." Her voice pinched a bit and she coughed, swallowed down the emotions trying to take over. "Tell me you don't know anything about it. Tell me she's just lonely. Tell me, god, something, anything, to make this ok!"
Giles stood, dropping the letter to reach for her, but she stepped back, her hands held up.
"Don't. Not right now."
He sighed, frustrated and at a loss. "I honestly don't know why she wants me to visit."
"I do."
He cocked his head slightly, watching her agitation grow. "You do?"
"She wants you back." Buffy wouldn't look at him, resuming her pace, although he could sense the eye roll without seeing it. "Of course she does."
She set to mumbling something he couldn't make out. Before he could ask her to repeat it, she turned and met his gaze, an expression of such hurt and fear there. It was the pain of Angelus amplified to an exponential degree.
"I knew this would happen. It was in one of my nightmares," she said. As if this now all made perfect sense.
"What else happened in your nightmares?" he said.
"Everything. Every possible way you could leave me or die. Every possible way you decide to escape me, almost always going back to her." She sent an accusatory glare at the letter then turned it on him. "And I've tried to pretend it's not real for so long, Giles…" Tears began to well, and his heart broke for her.
"I'm not going to leave you, Buffy."
"Then what is she saying, in the letter? What else could she possibly mean?" Buffy stepped past him and scooped up the paper, scanning it quickly. "'I could use an old friend who knows what I'm going through'? Giles, she is clearly talking about your relationship with her."
"Or she's in trouble with the Council," he said quietly. Buffy's face hardened and she shoved the letter against his chest.
"Don't defend her. I've been watching her do everything she can to take you away from me since L.A."
Giles dropped the letter to the coffee table and began to remove his glasses. "Those were nightmares, Buffy, it's not –"
"They feel real, Giles, why won't you listen to me!"
"Come sit with me, love, please –"
"No!"
Giles tried to pull her into a hug and got a stern slap across the face for his efforts. She hit him hard enough to daze him for a split-second – more from shock than the force of the blow.
"No." Her voice was deeper, almost guttural. She sounded as if she'd been screaming for hours. "You can't ask me to be calm and quiet when I've watched this happen thousands of times."
"I can't be held responsible for your bloody nightmares! I've done nothing –"
Buffy shook her head and stepped away, a frightened, frantic expression taking over her face. "No… this can't be real."
"Please, love… please let's just talk about this."
Buffy shook her head again, backing away slowly. Giles offered his hand to her, his heart shattering when she looked at him as if he were a stranger. Sadness was quickly replaced with red-lined fear.
"You're not Giles… Giles would believe me. He'd try to fix this." She grabbed up a fireplace poker and pointed it at him, shaking. "What did you do to Giles?"
His face must've shown real concern because a battered sob escaped her and she covered her mouth with her free hand. She fortified herself, wrapping both hands around the end of the poker, though still she shook.
"Don't look at me like that. You're not him. You're not Giles. What did you do to him?"
"Buffy, please, something's not right –"
He took a step toward her and she panicked, slinging the poker at him as she turned to flee. It barely missed his head and slammed into the wall behind him, the head of it imbedded into the drywall. She was out the door before he had time to react.
"Buffy -! Damn." He rushed forward, grabbing his keys and running after her. He scanned the street. A flash of blonde hair in the park. He crossed the street without looking, a car nearly striking him. He ran on, without apology, calling her name.
After ten minutes of chase, he found her, unconscious, on the bike path. She was pale, paler than he'd ever remembered seeing her, making the circles under her eyes stand out. He sank to the ground and pulled her into his lap, petting her hair.
"Buffy, love, please… wake up. Please." When she didn't respond, his panic rose. This couldn't be happening to them. How had he let it get this bad?
He paused, looking down at her, her words repeating in his mind.
"I've seen it a thousand times… since L.A."
He shifted and carefully put her back on the ground, brushing the hair from her face. He felt at her forehead, the temperature high. He sucked at his teeth and checked her pulse – irregular and fast. Something was happening to her, alright.
"A blood curse." He looked about the woods, fury bubbling in his veins, nearly blinding him. He took a moment to calm himself, then he scooped her up and rushed back to their flat. Once he placed her on the couch, he moved to his desk to make a call.
"Willow, we need your help. Gather the others and bring them to the flat. Now."
He slammed the phone down and began pulling books off shelves. He had mere hours to save her and he would let nothing stand in his way.
"What the hell is going on?" Xander said, grabbing one of Buffy's feet. He barely held her down. He almost felt proud, until he realized Giles had already bound her legs with heavy chains.
"She's under a blood curse –" Giles said, grunting when he took an elbow to the ribs.
Anya's expression hardened. "Do you have a calf?"
He sent her a look, frustrated and in no mood. "Yes, Anya, I keep a calfling around just in case I need a blood-letting vessel."
She rolled her eyes and moved away from them, speaking to an empty wall. "Blessed be, the name of D'Hoffryn. Let this space be now a gateway to the world of Arash Ma'har, where demons are spawned." She winced, trying to find the words.
"Now is not the time for talking to corners, babe," said Xander.
"Shut up! Ok… We come in supplication. We bend as the reed... in the flow of the, uh... ... we…we come in the flow of the, uh..." Anya stomped her foot and planted her hands on her hips. "Damnit, D'Hoffryn, you know I'm here! Answer me!"
A swirl of smoke appeared, opening a dimensional doorway for communication. D'Hoffryn leaned forward, clearly displeased with her.
"Are you really so sure in your station that you may make demands on your creator?" he said. "Why do you attempt to call on me, Anyanka? Have you suddenly decided to beg for your powers?"
"No, the Slayer needs your help. She's –"
"Got a blood curse, I know. You think I don't know what's happening on your tiny realm?"
Anya crossed her arms. "I know you can remove it. Whose handiwork is this, anyway? I thought we agreed the Slayer was off-limits."
"None of our people cast this. It wouldn't have progressed were that the case."
"But you'll remove it."
"I don't know. I haven't heard the magic word…" he said, studying his gnarled fingers.
Anya sighed and opened her arms in supplication, her eyes rolled to the ceiling, her tone begrudging.
"Oh great and powerful D'Hoffryn, you are our only hope, please won't you remove this blood curse so our poor mortal Slayer may live to slay another day?"
D'Hoffryn chuckled and reached for something outside her view. A moment later, a large bundle of odd branches poked through the portal, pointed at Buffy. D'Hoffryn whistled near the head of the branches and they began to shake, vibrating with an ungodly, bestial noise rupturing through the portal. Without warning, Buffy slumped against the couch, calm and deeply asleep.
The branches recessed and D'Hoffryn leaned against the arm of his throne, looking at Anya with a grin.
"Thank you," Anya said softly, pressing her hands together and tipping them under her chin. She kissed her fingertips and pointed them to him. "You don't know what this means to me."
"Anyanka, you were my favorite for centuries, and while I don't hold a system of boons, I know that you would answer a call were the situation reversed."
She bowed her head, smiling. "Always for you, D'Hoffryn. Remember us if you have need of a warrior."
"Don't worry – I will."
His image swirled away as she turned from him, only to find the others staring at her.
"What, I'm not allowed to help?"
