Three a.m. It was three bloody a.m. and the doorbell was ringing. Who on earth would ring his doorbell at three in the morning? Giles pulled on his robe, sleepily noticing the full moon which flooded the window into his flat as he pulled the door open to reveal Buffy, bleeding from several wounds on her arms and back and vomiting into the bushes beside his door. She wiped her mouth as she stood up shakily. "I'm sorry, Giles. I fell asleep and only got out to patrol at one in the morning. Mom really doesn't like me patrolling."

"Buffy, what happened?"

"Werewolf – couldn't bring myself to kill it, and it decided to take a piece of me. I don't know how I got away. I just ran. Your house was closer than mine. I don't think I can run any more." She was gasping, and as he led her into the house to seat her on the couch, she shook her head again. "Toilet." With that, she fled to the bathroom, and Giles heard retching sounds and a loud crack as she banged her head on the john. He joined her in the bathroom, holding her head as the remains of her supper left her stomach. "Well, that's a big yuck." She wiped her mouth with toilet paper and flushed the commode. "You don't have a toothbrush, do you?" Giles fished around under the sink, passing her a fresh toothbrush and toothpaste. As Buffy stood over the sink, she swooned, and Giles steadied her by wrapping an arm around her waist as she brushed her teeth and washed her face. Giles led her back to the couch and returned to the bathroom for a washcloth and a first aid kit.

He began cleaning her wounds and threw his hands in dismay. "Why don't you just jump in the shower and clean up? The bleeding has pretty much stopped; it looks worse than it really is. The scratches aren't that deep. I'll just go fetch you a change of clothes."

Buffy looked at her filthy torn shirt and groaned. "The Council should pay me for all the clothes I go through." She tried to stand up but fell back onto the couch. "I'm not sure I can stand up for a shower. I'm wiped out." Giles returned to cleaning the wounds on her back and arms.

Placing a bandage on the deepest scratch on her back, Giles walked over the closet and grabbed a blanket and tossed it to Buffy. "Sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

~***~

Buffy was perched on one end of the sofa, gazing at her amused bare-chested Watcher who was lounging on the opposite end. She could feel his warm feet pressed against her and they were both snuggled under the blanket. As she sipped her steaming mug of tea, he told her, "You are quite lovely in the morning, my dear."

Flashing an impish grin, "Flattery will get you everywhere." She reached out a leg and tickled him gently with her toes.

"Have pity on a poor old man who was chased about the bedroom half the night. At least, let me have some tea first."

"Very well, read to me." Buffy took a bite of the cranberry scone that she had balanced between her knees as Giles retrieved the "Harry Potter" and begin telling her of the search for the wand at Olivander's.

"Hmm." Buffy mused, interrupting Giles' reading. "I wonder what sort of wand I would have?"

"Willow, of course, love. What else?" Giles raised an eyebrow at her.

"And the core?"

"Gryphon hair. From the mane. Gryphons are quite loyal, and protective, like your Xander."

"Never fought a gryphon. Wonder how you kill one?"

"You don't kill gryphons, they are creatures of the light. No need to kill one."

"Wish I had a wand, wave it at a vampire and 'Poof!", no more vampy."

"If it were so simple, we'd have no need for Slayers and I'd be back at the British Museum."

"And I'd miss out on my lovely scone." Buffy leaned back and listened as Giles read on about Hagrid and Harry shopping for school things at Diagon Alley. As she relaxed, the voice faded into the gravelly one of her first Watcher.

"Betrayer! You failed me!" As Buffy startled, she watched in horror as Giles' face morphed into the accusing face of Merrick, who then faded into dust. She woke up, screaming Merrick's name, as sunlight streamed through the curtains of Giles' apartment.

"No! I didn't! What have I done?" Buffy snatched towards the dust motes surrounding her trying to bring back Merrick, wondering sleepily why he was so angry with her, how she had offended him.

Giles, hearing Buffy's panicked scream and peeking down the stairway, saw his slayer grasping at air in the early morning light, pulling open one of her wounds from the previous night. "Buffy!" He raced down the stairs, grabbing her wrists to stop her flailing.

Buffy truly woke, seeing Giles' face mirroring her panic with loving concern. A wave of nausea hit her. "Oh, god! I'm going to be sick!" She ran to the bathroom, retching uncontrollably. Her stomach, however, was empty, and after a minute or two, she returned to the couch, wrapping herself in the blanket.

"Do you always vomit after this dream?" Giles was surprised that a dream could evoke such a violent reaction in his normally stoic slayer. She usually reported dreams impassively.

"I guess. It gives me the wiggins."

"Can you tell me about it? Was it the same as the one in the library the other day?"

"Similar, not the same." Buffy shook her head, trying to clear Merrick's visage from her mind. "They are sort of embarrassing."

"I see. Then they are sexual in nature." Giles placed the card on the table, hoping to prompt Buffy into discussing the dream.

"No, more like cozy. Intimate. Not sexual, really. No nudity."

"Why are they so upsetting? Can you describe the participants?"

"Me." Buffy made a show of picking lint off the quilt. "And you."

Buffy watched interest flicker on her watcher's face. "What happens?" Buffy reached for the Watcher's legs, noticing that in his haste to come down the stairs, he had not put on a shirt. She stretched his legs out on the sofa, settling herself down near his feet, as she had been in the dream. She loosened the blanket, draping it over their legs, as it had been in her dream. "This doesn't seem to be sufficient to send you running for the nearest loo," he pointed out with a hint of amusement.

Buffy shook her head. "We were talking, and drinking tea. Eating scones for breakfast."

"Sounds pleasant enough to me. There must be more to it. What are we talking about?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow at him, and stiffened. She looked at her feet to regain her nerve. "You were teasing me. In my dream, that is. You told me I looked nice in the morning. You make a joke about being old."

From Buffy's body language, Giles could well imagine what sort of talk was happening. "And this is sufficient to send you running to the water closet. I assure you I'm not that old."

At Giles' insulted look, Buffy responded quickly, "No. I like this part of the dream. I told you they start out pleasant, didn't I? In every dream, we're cozy-like, and you pick up a book and read to me. I have this feeling of perfect contentment."

Giles was both relieved and surprised. "Well, perhaps we should go shopping for a book today. Any particular book in mind?"

"It's always the same book."

"Really? How odd."

"Harry Potter. I read it last summer while I was recuperating."

Giles barked out a laugh. "Surely you're joking." He reminded himself that the end result of the dreams was a vomiting Slayer.

"Well, in my dream, you like it. And I like the sound of your voice reading it to me. And I get lulled into a sort of contented dreamy state. Then your voice changes." Buffy startled, her fear returning as she remembered his face change. "I look up. Excuse me." Another wave of nausea hit, and Buffy curled up into a tight ball, trying to ride it out. Giles watched helplessly as Buffy gagged. When she regained her composure, he motioned for her to continue. She whispered, "Merrick."

"Merrick?"

"And he turns to dust, like a vamp. Only he's telling me how I've betrayed him, my calling. I keep trying to pull him back, tell him, well..." Buffy trailed off, not sure how to explain the gripping fear she feels at Merrick's disapproving gaze. "How you must hate me."

"You inspire many emotions in me, Buffy, but hatred is not one of them."

"But you were dragged from your lovely job at the British Museum to babysit a stupid airhead California girl who couldn't keep her first Watcher alive."

"Well, that's the least flattering description of my occupation I have ever heard."

"He always looks so disappointed in me. I can't bear it. I can't bear the thought that you might feel the same."

"I'm sure Merrick was not disappointed in you. Not in the way you are describing. Every Watcher knows the risks of the job. And you are amazingly talented, both as a Slayer and as a young woman."

Buffy reached under the blanket, touching her fingers to Giles', which felt warm and soothed her anxiety. "Have you read his diaries?"

"Merrick's?" Buffy nodded. "No, they were lost when he was killed. All I've seen are his reports to the Council, very dry."

Buffy gripped Giles' hand; her own was trembling. "He despised me."

"That's ridiculous. And why would you think that?"

"I've read them, his diaries, at least the first two. There are seven. The seventh is incomplete."

Giles bolted upright. "You have Merrick's diaries? Where are they?"

"At home, in my room. I found them in a hidden drawer of my weapons chest. I must have taken them from his home when he was killed. Honestly, I don't remember. They are very difficult to read."

"I'd imagine so. A Watcher's death is very difficult for a Slayer. It is rare for a Slayer to outlive her Watcher by more than a month or so. You are quite remarkable in that regard."

"No, not that. They're in Latin. And I can't make heads or tails out of most of it. He must have studied Latin for years." Buffy slumped back on the sofa, discouraged.

"Good Lord, and this is what has you all bent out of shape?"

"I suppose, it's some of it. I don't know."

"It's Saturday. Why don't you run and get a shower, jog home and bring those books back. I'll see if I can't scrounge some tea and scones for breakfast. I'm sure that if you read my first diary, you would not like what I had to say. Let's see what Merrick really wrote about you."