Chapter 8: Sunset

Giles was struck with a wave of humidity as he stepped off of the plane. Good old California, he thought to himself. What he wouldn't give for some decent rain clouds over in the States. It would match the mood much better than the ever-glaring sun. He raised his hand to his forehead, trying to block the sun. To his mind, it was a mockery of everything that was wrong here.

He saw Willow, Tara, Xander, and Dawn crossing the tarmac to meet him. It was good to see them, even if the circumstances were grim. He picked up his suitcase and walked hurriedly to meet them.

"Welcome back, G-man," Xander greeted him as the two men clasped hands.

"I told you not to call me that," Giles replied, but he was smiling as he said it. God, he'd missed them so much.

"Hey Giles," Dawn said quietly.

"Dawn," he said, giving her an affectionate hug.

Tara was next. The witch gave him her trademark sweet smile, but when they pulled away from the hug, he caught the serious expression on her face. He gave her a questioning look, and she looked him in the eye as if to say, "Later."

Giles nodded, and turned to Willow. It was so good to see her. "Oh Willow," was all he could say as they looked at each other awkwardly. She seemed nervous, but that was hardly a surprise. Especially since her best friend was in a coma and Giles had told her to get back on the magics. They just looked at each other for a few moments, then simultaneously rushed to wrap each other in a warm embrace.

---

"Here," Tara said. "I found these in the closet."

The witch handed Giles a pile of sheets. As he held them in his hands, he flashed back to a similar moment several months ago. I know they're so cute you could die, but it's all I got. Giles placed the pile of sheets next to him on the couch. He looked up at Tara.

"I can see what you're doing," he said softly. She looked at him, shocked.

"What do you mean?"

He tried to smile for her, but all he could manage was a slight twitch of the lips. "Being strong for them. All of them. You're putting them first. It's very brave."

"Um, thank you," she said a bit uncertainly.

"And how are you doing? I understand that you and Willow are back together?"

Tara sat down beside him, moving the sheets out of her way. "Yes. For a few days now. She's doing really well, with the magic. She's afraid to get back on it though." Before he could say anything, she continued. "And I need to talk to you about that. When we were waiting in the hospital, Xander said some things." She took a deep breath and gazed down at her hands in her lap. "He asked me to do a spell. To heal Buffy."

Giles inhaled sharply and Tara looked up at him, meeting his eyes as she continued to speak.

"I said no. I told him how wrong that would be. How dangerous for Buffy. And I meant it, every word. I'm not going to risk doing that to her. But I want to help her, and I think I've found a way. It's not a healing spell," she assured him. "I haven't told the others, just Willow. I don't want to get their hopes up. Besides, I wanted your approval. You see, with this spell, I would need an anchor. I think if we want this to work, Willow's the best choice."

Giles took off his glasses and began to polish them absentmindedly as he stared at nothing in particular. "What did she say when you asked her?"

"That she was afraid. Afraid of losing control. But that if I needed it, and if you approved, then she'd try."

Giles was silent for several moments. "Perhaps it would be for the best. I had planned to have her begin with something a little more basic, such as floating pencils. But in a way this is fitting; Willow's first spell, after all, was one of incredible power. Yet I would like you to tell me everything you know about this spell. But first, I think we have another problem that will arise at sunset. It is best discussed with everyone."

Tara looked quizzical, but she just nodded. "I'll go get them." She rose from the couch, but turned back to him. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Understanding."

He gave her a genuine smile. "You are very welcome."

---

Anya stared at the money in her hands. She idly thought about doing her Dance of Capitalist Superiority. She hadn't done it since Xander had walked out on her at the not-wedding. Her love of money had not decreased one whit since she had tearfully accepted D'Hoffryn's job offer. Sometimes the Magic Box was her only source of joy. It was her pride, her work, her joy; it was practically her life now. Xander had been her life until he'd gotten cold feet. She had thought returning to the vengeance fold would give her pleasure, but it was all just...lacking. Lacking what? she asked herself, but she did not know. Sighing, Anya placed the money in the cash register and closed it.

This was not the time for the Dance of Capitalist Superiority. Buffy was in a coma, and she probably wasn't going to wake up, and everybody was really sad. She couldn't do a happy dance at a time like this. It made her feel guilty, although she wasn't really sure why. She was kind of angry at the lot of them anyway. Especially Xander. But she still couldn't shake the guilty feeling. Guilty for not being sad. She didn't know why she cared, and it made her angry. However, she had determined the suitable way to deal with this. She just had to do something to make up for not being sad enough.

A slow smile spread across her face as she contemplated her options. It wasn't as if she did that many things. But there was one thing she was very good at. And it had to be done, she was sure of that. All she needed was the right person. She scowled as a she remembered her failed attempts at getting the gang to make a wish. None of them would do it. Then she remembered Halfrek's words from a few nights ago. I've been telling you for decades - men need a little vengeance now and then, too.

It was a perfect plan. He loved her; he was angry with her, but she knew he loved her. He would want vengeance. Anya felt like laughing as she turned out the lights and put up the CLOSED sign. She locked the door behind her as she walked out into the twilight.