A/N: The second chapter follows on directly from the first. Again, violence warning (not for this chapter, really, but it's rather depressing).

To Sabia: Don't worry! ;-) Oh, and could you tell me what a reprieve is?

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this plot.

Please review! It takes so little time! Please please please! Oh, and I realise I'm not so good at diary-writing, so don't be too harsh! :-D

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Her hand was surprisingly steady as she reached for the phone.

It rang twice.

'Hello?'

'Giles,' she said, in an eerily quiet voice.

'Buffy? Is that you? Buffy?'

'Giles. We…there is a problem,'

Lame.

'Buffy, is everything all right? Did Angel do something? Buffy?'

'No. Yes. Willow…'

Somehow, forming words was becoming near-impossible. Giles however, talked on, unaware of the tragedy he was about to face, yet with worry etched into his every syllable.

'Willow? Buffy, hang on, I'm coming. Do not leave the house, I'll be right there,'

*******

[Extract from the Watchers' Diaries – Rupert Giles

Slayer: Buffy Anne Summers]

March 31st,1998

Angelus has succeeded in his attempt to indirectly bring my charge to her knees by killing her best friend, Willow Rosenberg. After Jennifer Calendar's murder last week, we did not expect him to act again so soon, and thought we had taken the necessary precautions to ensure our safety. Needless to say, Buffy is in a state of shock, as are her other friends. I have exempted her from patrolling, taking up the duty myself, at least until she recovers. However, I doubt she will any time soon.

Angelus has employed a particularly brutal method of emotional torture on Buffy. He has recorded his murder of Miss Rosenberg on tape (sound only) and left the recording on Buffy's doorstep. I regret not being by her side as she played the tape, as I am afraid that particular experience has left too deep a mark now to ever be entirely healed, and my presence might have helped cope.

In fact, behind her relatively tranquil appearance, I believe Buffy is hiding inexpressible grief and anger, which, however, she is failing to show. All I can do is be close to her, help her to get through this in the hope that she'll soon let herself openly grieve and be ready to face Angelus once more.

For now, I have no reason to believe that Angelus, Drusilla and Spike might be planning anything too dangerous, though, so I will not press Buffy to direct action against them.

[End of extract]

*******

Willow's funeral was the day after. Authorities found no fingerprints or evidence of any other kind to point to a potential suspect, and the autopsy was quite simple. Neck fracture. There wasn't really anything special with this murder. As Xander put it, by Sunnydale standards it was actually quite normal, considering half of the dead bodies in town were found with some remnant of what the police believed to be 'unidentified phosphorescent organic matter' and what he had conveniently labelled as 'demon goo.' It was just one of Xander's countless and miserably failing attempts at lightening up the situation, but it ended up as inappropriate humour. Which was hardly surprising, since his heart wasn't in it. How could he make anyone smile if he himself had lost all reason to do so?

Again, Buffy didn't cry. Surprisingly, the only Scooby Gang member to do so was Cordelia. Oz was just his usual, impassive self and Xander just stared into space, wide-eyed, like a lost puppy. Giles had, perhaps, cried all his tears for Jenny, every day that week. So he was dry-eyed as he now stood, his hand on Oz's shoulder, attempting to console him. He had tried to hold Buffy during the ceremony, but he was under the impression that she was avoiding him. He didn't realise that she was avoiding everyone else too.

Shortly after the funeral, they got notice that Cordelia was leaving town with some excuse for her parents. She had phoned Xander to tell him that she'd come back when the situation had improved a little. Nobody really could blame her; she was just scared and doing what any smart person would do. She was just trying to be safe.

The now dreadfully thin numbers of the Gang met at the Library. What the purpose of this meeting would be was a mystery to all, but perhaps they'd find some comfort in the memories brought back by their favourite haunt. Yet while the teens were all lost in their thoughts, Rupert Giles' worry increased with his sorrow. He couldn't help notice how distant Oz and Xander had become towards Buffy after learning about Willow's death. Xander especially had barely talked to her. Giles assumed it was just some subconscious mechanism; the two boys were obviously blaming Buffy for Willow's death, because she hadn't killed Angelus when she had had the chance. He had thought the same for a very short while after Jenny's death. But he knew they had no right. She just hadn't been ready. No one should ever have to be ready for something like that.

Giles decided he would talk to Buffy as soon as possible. Tell her that it wasn't her fault. Then it occurred to him how similar that sounded to Angelus' words on that tape and thought he'd somehow find another way to say it.

The strain on every single one of them was painfully obvious as they said goodbye when Giles dropped them home one by one. He purposefully left Buffy for last. He shouldn't let her go to bed without talking to her.

'Buffy. Please wait a second,'

She just looked a him. Giles' heart broke at how lost his Slayer looked.

'Buffy. Listen to me. You have to rest now. Don't think about this. Don't blame yourself,' he said gently.

'You'll get through this.' He forced himself to smile.

'Xander hates me,' she whispered tonelessly.

'He doesn't hate you. Don't think that. He doesn't,' he said firmly.

Buffy just looked up at him, not failing to notice how dark circles had formed under his eyes and how pale he was. She knew he wasn't getting any sleep. She knew he thought and dreamt of Jenny all the time. How could he not, after only one week? Yet here he was, trying to make her feel better. For a second, she felt immense gratitude. Then, despair flooded back in. She gave him a weak smile and got off the car. A small tear escaped the Watcher's eye as he watched his little Slayer walking home, head held high, still holding back tears and trying to be strong. He was overwhelmed with pride and sorrow at the same time. And he saw the small package before she did.