Giles glared at Olivia as she sat curled in his chair. He couldn't send her off into this silent hell, but he wanted her gone. He knew Buffy would be here soon, and he didn't want to see the hurt in her eyes when she saw Olivia in his home again.

He clenched his hands together under the desk. The urge to vent his frustration was building, pushing him to the brink of his control. Olivia shifted in the chair and he looked at her, trying to see the woman he had cared for for so long. Guilt rose, bitter and hard. Hurting Olivia bothered him. Knowing he had used her to assuage his pain, used her as a substitute in his bed, only made the whole situation that much more untenable.

He was hurting them both. Buffy had handled the violation with such grace. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. It felt wrong to think of that beautiful episode as a violation. He wanted to remember it as the ultimate expression of love it should have been. He considered the tiny steps they had been making toward each other before Willow's damnable spell. There was no question in his mind. They would have stumbled along toward the same destination, but to be forced there before they were ready had certainly set them both on their heels.

It was simple. Olivia was his friend, his past. Buffy was his soul. There would be no future without her.

He looked at the paper he had been writing notes on and considered, for a brief moment of insanity, committing all of his thoughts and feelings to paper for his slayer. He tried to imagine her response and shook his head. The things he needed to express to Buffy needed to be spoken aloud, needed to be flung at fate with a prayer and perhaps a ring. He thought of his grandmother's ring, waiting in its velvet cocoon as it for more years than the woman he intended it for had graced the earth. That was bracing, but it did not matter. He needed his voice, and he needed Olivia gone.

Xander and Anya had arrived some time ago and were curled together on the couch watching the infernal television with the volume turned low. They provided a buffer for Olivia. He felt a stab of guilt and rubbed the back of his neck. He was glad to have the young couple safe with him, but he envied them the comfort they found in each other.

He looked over a text that discussed a plague of silence that had destroyed a village on the Silk Road. The accounts were all greatly removed from the occurrence. Obviously, there had been survivors, but none of them had recorded the experience. What good could be gleaned from fifth hand accounts?

Frustration built inside him with each dead end. He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to think of a new avenue of research to explore. He glanced at his notes from the conversation concerning her dream, hoping for some unique, as yet unnoticed detail to catch his eye.

Willow considered going to Giles' place, but she was afraid he would still be angry. The silence was made stranger by the normal noises that still filled the air, the slap of feet running down the hall, the hum of the vending machines, the ring of the useless telephone. The noises seemed shockingly loud in the absence of human voices.

She looked at a girl crying by herself in the hall, but she didn't stop. Buffy and Giles would figure this out. They always came riding to the rescue.

She looked down at the floor and thought of Buffy's tear stained face, and felt the guilt hit again. What if they weren't the dynamic duo right now? It would be her fault. She looked back at the brunette crying in the hall and stopped.

She couldn't save the world, but she could help someone. She walked back the way she had come and took a deep breath. She reached out her hand and touched the girl's shoulder. Bleary, tear filled eyes looked up at her and she smiled, trying to reassure the stranger. Suddenly, her arms were full and she was being hugged tightly.

Angel watched as Maggie mobilized the troops on the tiny television screen. She was really quite amazing as middle management. He reclined on his bed with Drusilla while his little human minion typed frantically. He stroked Dru's cheek and considered the options.

Silence was golden.

It afforded such wonderful opportunities. Humans relied on language, the spoken word especially. They would never understand the world the way a vampire could. He took a deep unneeded breath, relishing the scent of fear in the air.

He had acquired a little army of demons by cooperating with Maggie. He trained them and made sure they were fed untainted food. Perhaps he would be able to take them out into the world as this situation escalated.

Maggie was cautious. Letting her believe she was still the one in control amused him. It would hurt her all the more when she was thrown into a cell when her usefulness was at an end.

He stroked his fingers through Drusilla's hair. She curled into his arms, crying for her muted pixies. More a reason to rejoice than mourn in his opinion. Her body shook against his and he kissed her temple. It was wonderful to have his beloved girl back. Her devotion was absolute.

Buffy opened the door with and looked in to find her watcher already rising from his chair. It was a relief to see him, to know he was safe. Their eyes locked and she smiled. The moment seemed to stretch between them. The casual shift of his weight from heel to toe made him seem younger, unsure. He touched her shoulder and rubbed his hand up and down her arm before pulling her close.

She closed her eyes, loving the soft feel of his nubby sweater under her cheek. His scent surrounded her. She sighed. Somehow not having her voice made the secrets she was keeping that much more difficult to hold.

She looked up into his green eyes and considered kissing him. What would he do when he couldn't retreat behind that big, fancy vocabulary? A smile curved her lips. She pressed her fingertips against the white tee revealed by the neckline of his sweater. He was so warm. His arms tightened on her and she silently giggled.

A loud crash sounded through the room and Buffy moved, placing herself between Giles and the noise. Olivia stood, a book at her feet, and glared directly at her. Buffy felt Giles hand on her shoulder, supporting her. Olivia stomped off to the bathroom. The door slammed, the sound reverberated through the apartment.

Giles' fingers tightened on her. Buffy closed her eyes ignoring Anya's concerned expression and Xander's unhappy one. Olivia was here, in his home. He hadn't stopped her visit. She was staying with him in his one bedroom having home.

This woman would be in his life long after Buffy was gone. She pressed her hand on her artificially flat stomach. Her babies would spend more years with Olivia than they would with her. Slayers didn't get happily ever afters, but maybe her children would love Olivia. Maybe Olivia would love them, help raise them, and give them a normal life. She fought back the tears, fought the urge to lean back against his strong chest.

She could not claim him.

This wasn't her life. Her life was hunting and killing.

The fantasy of a happy future was just a fantasy, after all.