AN: I was intending for this to be half of one long chapter, but it didn't work out that way. So consider this kind of "Chapter 10A" and I'll have the next part of the fic up real soon : )

Chapter 10: Exits

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't stake you," Giles said slowly and fiercely as he peered at a stiff Angel from over his glasses.

Angel maintained a calm and apathetic expression. "I'll give you a reason. Buffy."

"And I'll give you two reasons why I should. My son and his mother."

Angel sighed and hung his head, an involuntary response whenever anyone brought up the subject at present. "I'm sorry for any pain I caused your family---" he tried to say lamely.

"Pain?!" exploded Giles. "You're apologizing for 'any pain'?! As if that term properly expresses all the damage you've done to my family!"

"Giles---"

"Quiet!" He adjusted the crossbow carefully so that it was precisely in the range of Angel's heart. "I don't think you're in any position to be rationalizing your actions. It's a little late." Giles' eyes flashed a quiet fire, the kind that brimmed with untapped danger and was much hotter than it looked.

"It's true," Angel quietly conceded. "I can't begin to explain what I did, not when I can't fully understand it myself."

Giles nodded slowly. "That being said, I don't see much that's separating you from the end of this stake."

Angel just gazed at him icily and blankly. "You're the one who's just buying time. You could have staked me the moment you knocked in the door."

"I have all the reason to. You kill my son's mother, leading him onto a path of hoodlum delinquency and violence----"

"That is not my fault," Angel interrupted, jaws tensing suddenly.

"Whose fault is it that my son is lying in a hospital bed?!" Giles yelled, his arm whipping down and the crossbow with it. A look of guilt passed over Angel's face as he ducked his head while Giles neared him with slow, deliberate steps.

Angel brought his head wearily back up to face Giles. "I never meant . . . everything got out of hand----"

"I think I've had enough of hearing about your intentions. It's been made painfully clear that your intentions are not to be trusted. What I want to know now is what you're going to do."

Angel cocked his head with surprise. "You're not going to kill me then."

Giles maintained his stonily menacing expression. "I kill you and I devastate Buffy." Just when Angel began to visibly relax, Giles spoke up again. "BUT . . . I don't kill you then I risk losing my son."

"I wouldn't do anything to----"

"Again, I don't think I'm inclined to believe any of your promises." Giles was bringing the crossbow up to chest-level again and Angel eyed it with cautiousness.

"Buffy told me to stay away from her, from all of you----"

"It's not enough. You stay and Spike will undoubtedly seek you and try to avenge his mother's death. Are you prepared to say that you wouldn't try to protect yourself is it came to that?"

Angel's lips tightened and he struggled to lie, if it meant that he could stay in Sunnydale, somewhere, anywhere near Buffy. But honesty was intrinsic to him, much like his vampiric nature. He cursed both traits at the moment. "I would," he murmured quietly.

"Right. And him being an impulsive seventeen year-old boy and you a centuries old vampire with super-human strength, it wouldn't be much of a question of who would prevail in that prizefight, would it?"

Angel's whole body slumped despairingly. "So what do you want me to do?" he asked in the same slightly pleading tone he used when asking the same question to Buffy earlier. However, he already expected what Giles' answer would be.

"I want you to leave town," Giles said softly and firmly.

"When?"

Giles looked around the sparse apartment. "What's stopping you from leaving right now?"

Angel looked at him carefully and dangerously. "You know what is."

"Ahh, yes." Giles leaned down to prop up the thrown-over kitchen table, placing his crossbow down and seating himself at it as he began wiping his glasses. "Buffy."

"Yeah. Buffy."

"She herself asked you to say away from her didn't she?"

"She didn't ask me to leave town. You're asking me to leave, without telling her, without even telling her when I'm going to see her again----"

"I'm in no rush for you to EVER see Buffy again," Giles interrupted as he straightened in his chair. "I don't intend for you to ever to return to Sunnydale."

"That's not your decision to make," Angel snarled.

"Do you love Buffy?" Giles asked abruptly, his head cocked as if he was asking in pure curiosity. Angel was taken aback by the sudden question and pursed his lips momentarily.

"You know I do," he replied, almost whispered.

"Then you would understand the notion of 'unselfish love wouldn't you? You'd want what's best for Buffy. Much like I'd want what's best for William. On my part, I think I'm being most unselfish." Giles placed his glasses back upon his brow and stared at Angel up over them. "Because there is nothing better I would want than to see your existence diminished to a pile of dust." Giles got up from the chair and began to pace the room slowly. "You see, Buffy is an extraordinary girl who's been handed an enormous burden for a calling. She spends most of her life in either my library or the cemetery. She knows far too much about death and darkness than any human should ever have to face. She should be spending her time shopping, dilly-dallying with her friends, fixating on entirely silly young schoolboys who aren't worth a second thought, enduring the normal trials and tribulations of any sixteen year-old girl. She deserves that much." Giles paused and gazed at Angel in a sort of sad and quiet way.

"Instead," he continued, "She falls in love with one who has nothing to offer her except more darkness instead of lightening the burden. She'll never have the pleasure of an afternoon walk with you, will she Angel? She'll never be able to hold your hand and feel the sunshine on her face and know that you'll be able to take her to the matinee and for a burger and fries afterwards. And she's worth more than that."

Angel's whole body was tensing with every word of truth Giles uttered. It was true, all of it. Did Giles not realize that these thoughts were with him, painful and clear every time he was with Buffy, soaking her in with love and despair because he knew all this to be true? He knew how selfish he was being to her daily, to let her go on with her schoolgirl fancies and affections, but he had never experienced anything like her before and instead compensated by saying he wasn't what he really was, that two centuries of slaughter and violence were completely erased by this little blonde sixteen-year old. But how could he not be aware of it? He didn't just know it, he felt it, every time she smiled dazzlingly at him or softly brushed her hand against his in a sort of unintended embrace. He would look at her and secretly wish he hated her, just so she would get what she really deserved. His greatest wish was the ability to let her go. He looked back to Giles wearily who nodded knowingly.

"You have to leave Sunnydale, Angel."