I know what you're thinking.  Why didn't we go back to the mansion?  I wasn't sure myself, but I wasn't about to protest.  I wasn't ready to face the monsters again. . . not yet.  And as I look back on it now, I understand there were two different agendas on the table. . . .

* * *

The eerie quiet pervaded the atmosphere, and I could feel the proverbial shoe about to drop when we entered the back door of Buffy's average-looking suburban house.  The home was hardly the place in which I expected warriors to reside. 

Once in the kitchen, Giles spun to face Buffy, his mouth a grim line.  Slamming his hand on the island in the center of the room, he announced, "What the hell do you think you were doing gallivanting about with Spike?"

I read uncertainty on Buffy's face, and the power Giles had over her became abundantly clear.  Her words came out fairly neutral, "I wasn't 'gallivanting.'"

The girl from the cemetery. . .Willow, an average-looking dark-haired man, and a teenaged girl appeared in the doorway to the rest of the house, wearing expressions akin to deer caught in headlights.  I'm sure I bore a similar visage. 

"Buffy, you *have* to be serious," the older man stated as if he'd said the same words hundreds of times.  He probably had.  "There is *real* danger out there, and you can't keep getting into side trouble.  Your focus at the moment is needed elsewhere."

Buffy tensed in front of me, and she took a few steps forward, meeting him halfway and placing her hands on the surface of the kitchen island.  "Like I went looking for it."

"Well, it certainly seems like you always find it when you're with Spike."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  Buffy's temper was flaring now, and I could see her point.  Granted, I had no idea of her full history with Spike, and he *was* a vampire, albeit a soulful one. 

Giles planted his fingertips on the counter and leaned toward Buffy.  "It means just what I said.  Another of your girls is dead. . . *dead*, Buffy, and you're out with Spike!  And now he's in trouble, and instead of re-grouping with the girls, you want to charge out there. . ." Giles punctuated his point by jabbing a finger toward the kitchen window, ". . . and waste precious time and energy rescuing someone who seems of late to always need rescuing!"

"He doesn't always need rescuing," she said resolutely.  "He's been very helpful in our fight against evil." 

"And he's also been a huge liability.  He's very vulnerable to attack from the First."  (Then, why did they send him to protect me if he was so fragile?)  "You should have come back straight away from patrol and been with the rest of us."

"So, that's it?  You wanted me to come back here and babysit the girls?" Buffy asked.

Giles stepped back and crossed his arms.  "Not babysit. . . show them.  Show them that you actually care about what happens to them. . . that you aren't putting your feelings for a vampire, a *vampire,* above their needs.  They're especially fragile after the recent death."

"And where are they if they're so needy?"  Buffy attempted to peer around Giles but saw only the three behind him. 

This was an excellent point as I expected that they'd be clamoring into the kitchen if they heard the fight.

Willow cleared her throat and interjected hesitantly, "Um, Andrew and Anya took them to the Bronze."  When Giles removed his wrath from Buffy to glare briefly at Willow, the redhead became defensive with him, "Anya thought it might help them reconnect with reality a little to dance and let off some steam.  We thought you knew that.  You were here when they decided to go."

Buffy jumped on the revelation, "Oh ho!  So, they get to let off some steam, but I don't?  Why is it that I always have to take responsibility for how everyone else feels?  Half the time, I don't even know how *I* feel!"

"Letting off some steam is *not* the same thing as getting in trouble with some strange man and his demon horde," Giles countered.  "And your job is not to feel but to work past your feelings and deal with the matter at hand.  The time for feeling comes later."

"For me but not the rest of you," Buffy concluded for him. 

Giles' eyes took on a glazed and tired appearance.  "Your job, Buffy, is to always be on alert, always be ready.  You are *the* slayer. . . not the rest of us, not the slayers-in-training. . . *you*."

Buffy's face fell, eyes filling with tears that she stubbornly refused to let fall.  "And that means I'm not allowed to be human."

"Buffy, you *aren't* human," Giles pronounced quietly.  Regret radiated from him as soon as he finished his statement.

Despite this, Buffy's face hardened, and her eyes glinted with a steel I had never seen in anyone else.  She seemed to retreat inside herself as she spoke her next words with soft defiance, "I'm going after Spike.  Tonight.  The girls won't even notice that I'm gone."

"Buffy. . ."

Refusing to meet his eyes, Buffy held up a hand and turned to Willow.  "What can you tell me about those demons I described to you over the phone?"

Opening her P.D.A. and reading off the tiny screen, Willow didn't acknowledge Giles either.  "Dak'tosh.  They're big.  And they're strong."  (Gee, that was helpful.)  Her brow furrowed as she scrolled down further.  "And they are especially vulnerable to magic but not physical prowess."

"What kind of magic?" Buffy asked, reading over Willow's shoulder.

Willow grinned.  "The kind I'm an expert at."

"You're *not* coming.  It's not your fight.  There must be some kind of portable mojo that I could take with me."

"Well, there is, but I'd rather go with," the redhead said in protection of her friend's decision.  When she read the questions in Buffy's eyes, she added, "I want to be at your side. . . if you're going in, I'm there."

Buffy nodded her acceptance.  "You got what you need?"

"Just a sec." 

As I attempted to process the information that Willow could perform magic, she hurried to a kitchen cabinet and rummaged through the clutter while Buffy headed into the other room.  Willow produced a packet of herbs, and Buffy returned with a large battle-ax. 

"Let's go," Buffy said, hefting the weapon.  "Mr. Fisher.  We'll drop you off at home on the way."

"Okay," I agreed, straightening from where I'd been leaning on the kitchen cabinet. 

As Willow, Buffy, and I were going out the door, the dark-haired man stopped us by reaching out an arm as if he didn't want us to go.  "Guys. . . Willow. . ."

Willow was resolved.  "I'm going, Xander."

Xander backed down.  "Be careful."

"We will."

* * *

            At this point, I was exhausted and ready to go home.  Did I?  Of course not!

* * *

            A horn blared at us when we were halfway to my home.  Being tired and slightly on edge about my surroundings, I nearly jumped out of my skin at the noise.  Buffy and Willow stopped when they recognized what I later knew to be Xander's SUV.

            A window rolled down with urgency.  Xander's head poked out, and he smiled at us.  "Need a lift?"

            Willow fairly skipped to the door.  "Xander!  You came!"

            "Of course!" he said cheerfully in contrast to the concern he showed at Buffy's house.  "I couldn't leave my two girls to walk into danger alone.  How would that look with me as the token male of this threesome?"

Buffy joined Willow at the door.  "Careful, Xander.  You may come across as sounding like you're talking about something else."

"Your mind. . . always in the gutter," Xander quipped.  Then, he sobered thoughtfully.  "We okay?" he asked Buffy.

Buffy grinned.  "Of course!"

"So, are we ready to Three Musketeer our way into the fortress of doom?"  He winked at Buffy. 

"Hey!" a voice rose from the passenger seat.  "What am I?  Chopped liver?  I'm here to help, too!" 

"Dawn!" Buffy exclaimed in dismay.  "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like?  I'm helping my big sis break the Big Bad out of prison!"

"I don't want you to get hurt."

Dawn shook her head.  "Don't worry.  I'm just here to have the getaway car running and ready for our take off after you guys rescue Spike."

"*You?*  You, drive the getaway car?"  Buffy was amused. 

"Well, yeah.  I technically *almost* got my driver's permit," Dawn noted.

"*Almost* and *actually* are two different things."

Dawn rolled her eyes skyward.  "Well, you know.  The hellmouth didn't let me take the test on time."

"Sounds very fishy to me.  Kind of like the excuse that the dog ate your homework," Buffy teased. 

I could definitely see them as sisters.  Sometimes I regretted that Amber didn't have at least one sibling.  She'd probably be far less lonely.

Buffy was still talking.  ". . . and I think it might be wise if Mr. Fisher came and sat with you in the car. . . just in case some demons slip past us and come after you."  Buffy twisted to confront me.  "Do you mind, Mr. Fisher?"

            What could I say to that?  I couldn't leave the girl. . . Dawn alone. . . not when she reminded me of Amber.  "Sure.  No, no, I don't mind."