There was no one around, and his companions were getting nervous. It had started the previous day when his guide commented that they should not been able to get so close to home base without meeting a patrol. As they approached home base, the two people that Hugh had given Giles and the six members of the last deep patrol were becoming more and more wary. And it didn't help that they were all stumbling along on the last of their reserves.

Giles was rather proud of his strong constitution, but he couldn't hide from the fact that he was tired. Lord, but he was tired. He had bid farewell to Hugh and Tim a week ago. Or maybe it had been a month. There was no accurate method of keeping track of time down here, all one could do was count sleep periods and call the time in between "a day." As Giles had learned when he followed Tim, the leader of each group set the "day" for his or her people, so a leader with a strong constitution could easily run his people into the ground. The guide that Hugh gave him when he went out to find the last two patrol groups, was another such leader. Consuela made everyone march for brutally long periods of time, and Giles was convinced that each of her "days" lately lasted for at least sixty hours. And he was certain that none of his eight sleep periods had lasted for more than half an hour. Not even the sleepless weeks that had followed Jenny's murder had left him this drained.

Even before they reached home base proper, everyone drew their weapons and began searching the shadows. When they entered the great hall without encountering a single creature, friendly or not, the fear of everyone in the group became palpable, a living, breathing demon. In the midst of this tension, Giles was shocked to realize that his entire being was alive and vibrating. A singular thrum passing through his body that could mean only one thing. "Buffy," he bellowed. His companions glared at him, but he just gave them a goofy grin. "It's Buffy. She's here. I don't know where everyone else is, but Buffy is here."

The others had barely had time to process this statement when a small person with light brown hair launched herself at him. Giles barely had enough strength to prop his eyelids up, but suddenly he found himself supporting the weight of a full-grown woman. "Giles," Buffy exclaimed happily, and Giles felt his exhaustion dropping away as if by magic. He wasn't surprised by this; after all, *Buffy* had always been magic.

"Buffy," he breathed, "I don't think you could ever guess just how delighted I am to see you. But perhaps a bit of oxygen wouldn't go amiss?"

Buffy blushed in embarrassment, and Giles smiled to let her know that he was joking. She smiled back at him, and took on a bantering tone. "My bad. I'm just so glad to see you back, safe and sound, and concussion-free."

It was Giles' turn to blush. "Well..."

Buffy frowned and turned to his guide. "Hey, Connie, you didn't let this guy get hit on the head, did you?"

Consuela turned to Buffy in surprise. "How did you know that? We only got in one skirmish after we left Hugh, and your friend was the only one to get hurt. I've gotta say, though, that he has the hardest head I've ever seen. The next morning he was fine."

"Course he was," Buffy said proudly. But then she turned to her Watcher and scowled. "But I thought you were going to be more careful." She swatted him on the arm and he tried not to flinch, only to discover that it wasn't necessary to brace himself after all. She had clearly learned the limits of her Slayer strength over the years.

"Listen," grumbled one of the members of the last deep patrol, a surly man who had never given the Englishman his name. "I'm glad that your friend can take a lickin' and keep on tickin', but where is everybody?"

Buffy scowled at the interruption, but her voice was even when she answered. "Up above. Everybody is already up above. Or at least, most everybody. There are about fifteen people down below guarding the portal, and there's me, waiting for all of you. Out of six hundred people, the twenty-five of us are the only humans left below."

Amazed murmurs met this announcement, and Giles fought down a proud grin. She'd done it. She had moved hundreds of people, and their belongings, in a week and a half (or a month, or however long he had been gone). It had been utter chaos when he had left to gather the deep patrols, and he couldn't even begin to imagine how she had pulled it together, but somehow she had. She truly was amazing.

Giles' musings were broken by another voice, though he didn't see who had spoken. "What are we still doing here then? Let's go."

"Be serious, Jimmy," Buffy said harshly. She scanned an appraising eye over everyone in the group, and it chilled Giles to know that she was evaluating him with the same detachment that she was showing towards the others. "You're all tired, clearly exhausted, in fact. It is nearly three hundred paces to the portal, and there is a good chance that we might have to fight to get there. I'm not leading any of you anywhere near that place until everyone has had a good night's rest. Anyone who's tired will just put us all in danger. We stay here until every last one of you is slept out, and then we all go to the portal together." The surly patrolman opened his mouth, but Buffy nailed him with a steely glare. "Keep it to yourself, Baker. I don't want to hear it. We're staying here tonight, and that's all there is to it. Get yourself to your quarters, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Giles' companions began dispersing quickly; clearly they knew better than to go against Buffy when she was in this sort of mood. Feeling that retreat was indeed the better part of wisdom, Giles made to follow the group. The feel of a small hand upon his arm arrested him. The grip was light as a feather, but there was iron beneath the gentleness, and he stopped without hesitation. "Buffy?"

"Not you, Giles. Look, the quiet is getting to me. Will you come back to my quarters and keep me company?" Giles looked uncertain, so Buffy took on a pleading tone. "Please, Giles. You have no idea how much I hate going back to my empty rooms. I have food for you; we can eat together. Please?"

Giles sighed, defeated. He had no desire to eat, and even less desire to talk–all he really wanted to do was find an empty bed and crash--but there was no way he could resist that pleading tone. And adding in a pout was just plain unfair. Still, wanting to give in gracefully, he lightly grabbed her elbow and steered her out of the common room. She gave him a grateful smile, and Giles decided that sleep was over-rated anyway.

~*~*~

Once he started eating, Giles realized that he was starved. As a result, neither said anything for several minutes, as Giles devoured his food and Buffy watched him with an indulgent smile. Finally, however, he dabbed his face with a rag and smiled shyly at his Slayer. "I must say, I'm very impressed with how much you accomplished while I was out on patrol. From the mass of people that I saw gathered here before I left, I never would have guessed that you would be able to start moving people up already. And yet you're almost finished! You've done good work here, Buffy. You should be proud of yourself."

"Why, thank you kind sir," Buffy replied with a whimsical smile. Her expression sobered, however, as she continued. "You're right though; there are a lot of us. Unfortunately. But yeah, we started moving people up pretty fast. A few days after you left, we sent up all the old people, and all the adults who were too injured or hacked up to work. I figured that they wouldn't be of much use in moving things, but they could watch the children. As soon as they were in place, all the kids went up. Then we started moving the stuff." Buffy gave him a rueful smile. "Be glad you missed that! It was really hard, moving crap until your arms felt like they were going to fall off, and then patrolling until you couldn't stand upright. Not that I think you had it easy," she added hastily, "but still, the move was hard."

"I imagine it was," Giles murmured. Although he was determined to help Buffy in every way possible, he was glad that he had missed such backbreaking labor. Not for laziness, but for pride. She thought that he was fit, and she would have used him. And he would have let her. He would have worked himself to death before admitting that he still wasn't completely healed from his ordeal with Angelus four months previously. He was glad that he hadn't been forced to do that.

Buffy had a distant look in her eyes, and Giles hoped that she would share her thoughts, even though he had no intention of sharing his own. To his relief, she did. "You want to know the worst part though? It's the quiet. There should be children around, a lot of them. I miss them all, but I physically ache for my own. I mean, yeah, I know that they won't miss me; it will only be a few moments for them, but these last couple of weeks have been killing me."

This answer raised several questions for Giles, but there was one that over-crowded all others. "Couple of weeks? I *knew* that I was gone for more than a week and a half!"

Buffy laughed. "Try closer to three weeks. Tim and Consuela are brutal, aren't they?" Suddenly, Buffy sobered and her eyes got misty. "Or at least, Tim used to be brutal. He was famous for it..."

And there it was. He finally had the opening for the question that he had wanted to ask from the moment he saw her. He wished that this opening had never come. "So, how is Tim?"

Buffy's face instantly fell. "He didn't make it."

Giles didn't know what to say. He hadn't gotten to know Tim well enough to call him friend, but a certain camaraderie had grown between them during their time together. And he could clearly see that Buffy was distressed by his loss. "I'm so sorry, Buffy," he said softly, knowing that it wasn't nearly enough. Giles took a deep breath, and tried to think of something comforting to say. Nothing was springing to mind. Perhaps if he knew more about her relationship with the taciturn man? The only thing he knew for sure was that Tim had admired Buffy, and had seemed very jealous of the fact that Giles had had a previous relationship with his beloved general. "Were you, um, I mean, was he a–" Giles blushed ferociously, realizing that he was in danger of asking something that was none of his business.

"Was he a close friend?" Buffy smiled sadly. "Yes. Yes, he was. I think he would have liked to be my man as well, but I just didn't think of him that way."

Giles felt a rush of something at that statement, but chose to ignore it. He would define that feeling later, when Buffy was finished talking. Probably much later. "He told me that he was part of Jahari's original group. I take it that you knew him for quite some time."

"Yeah," Buffy mused, "a long time. He was the last one, you know?"

This mystified Giles, and his brow furrowed in confusion. "The last what?"

"The last member of Jahari's work cell. They're all gone now. Jolene, my sister-in-law, died in childbirth a few months ago. She died in your room, in fact. And when she did, Tim was the only one left. And now Tim's dead." The moisture that had been collecting in Buffy's eyes suddenly broke free in a rushing torrent. Giles collected her in his arms and held her as tightly as he could. He barely heard her when she sobbed into his shoulder; "all my friends are dead."

"Shh. Hush now, Buffy. It's alright." Normally Giles hated dealing with a woman in tears, but somehow this felt right to him. He soothed down her hair, he murmured nonsensical endearments into her ear, he rocked her, and he let her cry. And it all comforted him just as much as it did her. Perhaps this was what he had needed for months.

He had no idea how long he held her, but eventually Buffy cried herself out. He hated to let her go, but she clearly needed some sleep now. That thought suddenly made him remember his own exhaustion as well. So he gently laid her down on a nest of rags in the corner and turned to go. As he touched the curtain, however, Buffy whispered, "Will you take me back to Sunnydale?"

"That is my intention," Giles admitted, though he kept his face away from hers. "If you're willing to go, that is."

"Yeah, I think I'd like that," Buffy said quietly. "Believe it or not, I think it would be restful for me."

Giles whirled around and stared at her in astonishment. "Clearly, your memories of the Hellmouth have become fonder over time. Believe me, Sunnydale is never restful!"

"I know that," Buffy chuckled. "Its... See, the thing is, I'm tired of being responsible for others." Giles' eyes widened in alarm. If the Slayer didn't want to do her sacred duty, then the world was undoubtedly doomed. Buffy hastened to relieve him, however. "Um, wait, that didn't come out right. I'm not tired of fighting; I'm tired of having others fight for me. Tim only went out on that mission because I sent him. I sent Michelle. Everyday, I send dozens of people out, and a bunch of them never make it back, and all those deaths are my fault."

"Buffy," Giles breathed anxiously, "No. No, that's not true. You can't think that way."

"Can't I," she asked cynically. "So many deaths, and almost all of them my fault. I want to go back to fighting by myself, with nobody else by my side. Not watching out for anybody other than me. And I can get that in Sunnydale. I'm not a general there; I'm the Slayer. The one girl in all the world. The one girl. I want that, God, I want that."

Did she really remember so little of her life before she came down here? How many of her memories had she rewritten in order to survive down here? Picking his words carefully, Giles said, "You can't get that in Sunnydale; you can't get that anywhere. Others will always want to join the fight against evil, and you can't stop them. You can't make their choices for them, and you can't make yourself responsible for the choices they make."

"Oh, I can stop them," Buffy said with a hard smile. "I'm strong enough to prevent people from helping me. I didn't have that option down here, but I will up above."

Giles watched her carefully, wondering what she would say if she knew that Willow, Xander, and Oz were undoubtedly in a graveyard at this very moment. And Cordelia was with them, acting as bait. He decided that he was too tired to have that particular discussion at the moment, so he left it. "Things will look better in the morning, Buffy. Sleep well."

As Giles started out the doorway, a soft whisper stopped him dead in his tracks. "Don't go." The Watcher came back in, and gave her a quizzical look. "Please, Giles. Don't leave me alone."

"You're tired, Buffy. You need to sleep." Giles grinned ruefully. "And I must confess to being somewhat fatigued myself. You'll be fine here."

"I hate sleeping here by myself," Buffy whined shamelessly. "I miss my kids. And I hate for you to be in that room." Giles raised an eyebrow, silently asking for clarification. "That chamber belonged to Jahari's sister. She was my best friend down here, and she's dead now, and I hate for anybody else to be in her room. Even if it was the only one that was free for newcomers. Please don't go back there, Giles."

Giles thought about pointing out that there were hundreds of empty rooms now, free for the taking, but he didn't. Instead, he sighed and came back into Buffy's chamber. He lay down beside her, fully dressed, and gathered her into his arms. He would have liked to ask her why she thought that all of her friends were dead, when she had so many of them back in Sunnydale. He wanted to know why she kept using the plural when she referred to her children. And he really needed to know the depth of her dedication to fighting evil once they reached the surface. There were a dozen other questions flooding through his mind, as well but before he could choose which issue to address first, he was completely unconscious.