Giles got out of the car with a sigh of relief. The doctors had poked and prodded to their hearts' content and found nothing. Oh, they found the signs, of course. He told them about his headache, they found a bruise on his arm, and his cut cheek was obvious, but there was no concussion that they could find. When they'd heard about his drifting, they'd wanted to do scans. Giles had flatly refused. Not that anyone had listened to his firm refusal the first dozen or so times.

"You really should have let them--" Wesley began for the second time. Giles sighed, glancing over at the man.

"Thank you for taking me to the hospital, Wesley, but please . . . we don't have time for this. You and I both know there is nothing wrong with my head, not physically. They did as much blood work as I gave them time for; they'll call me if anything comes up there. However, I can't see this being anything other than . . . a spell, something. It was . . ." Giles shook his head.

At the very least, he was thrilled that he could do that again without pain. That and standing were his two great accomplishments of the day. Lovely.

"And if it isn't?" Wesley actually sounded worried and Giles blinked tired eyes at the younger man. "Uh, well, I'll go back. I'll get whatever tests they like and . . . we'll see."

"I suppose you have a quick and handy way to find out if you were or are still being affected by a spell?"

"Well, no. Not, uh, not to hand, but I'm sure we can find something." Giles shrugged, leading the way to the library. "There's a reason we have so many books," he said with a less than amused laugh.

Wesley glanced at him, no amusement on his face, either. "I doubt--"

The next thing Giles knew, he was staring up at Willow and Wesley, who both looked very worried, talking too quickly for his rather confused mind to keep up. "Uh, what-what happened?"

Silence. Both Willow and Wesley stopped talking, glancing at each other and then back to him. Finally, Wesley answered the question.

"You dropped. Uh, like-like a stone," Wesley said, leaning and examining his eyes once again.

"It wasn't really that stone like. More, uh, pebble." Willow said, her tone and words apparently meant as reassurance. "You-you dropped sorta pebble-like."

"I . . . I half caught you," Wesley said with a worried shrug. "So, uh, I don't think you hit your head, but . . . are you all right?"

Giles swallowed hard as Willow and Wesley helped him to his feet, his stomach flipping as if he were on a roller coaster instead of simply standing. He felt heavy and disoriented. His headache had come back with a vengeance, now banging against his skull and making it hard to think. He felt foggy as well, as if he were seeing everything through a veil of gauze. Giles groaned, raising his hand to make certain he was wearing his glasses and then rub at his forehead.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, blinking at Wesley, who still had a hold of his arm. The man's grip was firm, as if he thought Giles might need the help to stay upright.

"I asked if you were all right," Wesley glanced worriedly at Willow and Giles knew he couldn't look good, not with the worry on both of their faces.

"No," he finally said with a sigh. "No, I don't believe I am."

------

Giles really couldn't resent being all but carried into the library. Neither Willow nor Wesley gave him any choice and, beyond that--as much as it burned his dignity--he wasn't sure his legs would fully support him.

Fumbling into the nearest chair and ignoring the worried look Xander gave him, Giles sighed and removed his glasses. He polished them as he thought, looking up to find everyone staring at him as if they expected him either to know what to do or to fall out of the chair, and even they weren't sure which.

"I don't know what happened," he told them with a shrug. "One moment I was fine and then I found myself flat on my back with you lot staring down at me."

"What did the hospital say?" Xander asked, glancing at Wesley for an answer instead of him. Giles sighed, shaking his head.

"They didn't find anything--"

"Of course he refused the x-rays," Wesley said in a superior tone that usually made Giles want to throttle him. Now, it only made Giles wish they would all shut up for few moments, let the pounding in his head subside before attempting to chastise him.

"I did. I don't think they'd find anything. So, let's get to the other options and if we rule those out, I'll go back to get x-rays."

"X-rays?" Buffy's voice was worried and Giles looked up to find the girl just coming into the library. "Who needs x-rays? Is everyone all right? Where have you guys been? I--"

"Someone attacked Giles--" Xander started only to have Willow talking over him in an attempt to answer Buffy's questions as well.

"I looked for you, but then I saw Wesley outside with Giles and Giles fainted or something and I--"

Giles laid his head in his hands, swallowing down the nausea that rose as his head began to pound harder. He thought he might have groaned, made some noise, it really was the only way he could explain Wesley's suddenly being at his side.

"Are you all right? Do you need more aspirin, or . . . cover your ears for a moment."

Giles looked up at the man in time to see Wesley turn toward the children. Forehead furrowing, he flinched at Wesley's voice.

"Silence!" the man snapped, making Giles wince and wish he actually had done as Wesley asked. "The noise," Wesley said much more quietly, nodding toward Giles. The children were immediately contrite, murmuring apologies and huddling together to talk more quietly as they told Buffy what had happened.

Flashing Wesley a thankful glance, Giles put his head on his arms and breathed slowly in and out. As soon as the noise died down, his headache began subsiding again, though it didn't go away entirely. This time, it took up residence at the back of his head, a bit of pain lodged against his thoughts.

"All right," he said, raising his head and meeting Buffy's worried eyes. "I need to check the books in the office, see if the boy . . . or whatever, took anything. The rest of you start researching, please." There was a chorus of nods in response and Giles picked up his glasses, slipping them on as he stood. "Wesley, would you grab a pencil and notepad and come with me?"

"Of course," Wesley replied and Giles turned toward the office, blinking and wishing his legs were a bit steadier.

"Giles?" Buffy came to his side and he smiled to reassure her.

"I'm fine. We're not sure what happened yet, but aside from my head and occasionally rubbery legs--"

"Giles, you passed out," Buffy gave him an incredulous look, putting her hands on her hips. "That's not normally considered 'fine' and . . . what did this? I can't just sit around and . . ." Giving him a helpless look, she motioned to Xander and Willow, who were already at the table with opened books.

"Buffy, there's nothing else we can do at the moment. We need to find out what this . . . thing was after, what or who it was, and . . . . until then, I'll be fine."

Sighing, Buffy nodded, reaching out to pat his arm a little awkwardly, as if she were afraid she'd hurt him. "I'll . . . get started. We'll go through every book, find anything about headaches, or-or kid-shaped demons. We'll find something."

"Thank you." Continuing into his office, Giles sat on the edge of his desk, raising a hand to rub his forehead once again.