Buffy made her way into the warehouse undetected. The catwalks were old but well built, at least strong enough to hold her weight. She'd expected minions or whatever, guards, other vampires. She found an empty warehouse, dark and dusty, but with the faint smell of candles just snuffed. Getting down to the ground floor quietly was a bit tougher. She dropped down, crouching, ready, waiting.
Nothing.
Forehead wrinkling, Buffy scooted close to the wall, ears alert for any sound as she stood and made her way toward the back of the warehouse where there seemed to be rooms. Her own breathing and the pounding of her heart seemed almost too loud in the quiet. Her gut was clenching in a way that never proved to be a good thing.
She checked every one of the rooms and found nothing, but there was evidence that someone had been there. A circle of snuffed out candles, a forgotten doll. Sighing, Buffy went to get Willow so the girl could look over everything, figure out what needed to be done for Giles. She just hoped the answer was here.
Willow spent forever looking at the circle, the symbols along its edge, the candles. Buffy paced, agitation growing with every step, every moment not doing something.
"Oh!" Willow said, glancing back at the books spread out before her on the floor. "She's trying to control him! To get inside his mind and . . . use him. It needs blood and a spell to be said over him, but . . ."
"But what, Willow?" Buffy knelt down next to her friend, glancing down at the books.
"Dru couldn't have done this. Her minds not . . . cohesive enough. Giles would be . . . twirling around like her, and saying weird stuff if she were the one . . ."
"The boy," Buffy said, nearly trembling with her need to get moving. "Can you counter it? What can we do?"
"I'm sure I can work something out," Willow said, face determined.
------
Giles felt Wesley's eyes on him several times while they worked. His own eyes traveled to and over the other man on quite a few occasions, but he wasn't sure what to say and so remained silent. As Wesley said nothing to him, he assumed that he, too, was at a loss for words.
He kept remembering the longing in the other man's voice, the feel of his lips, the taste of his skin, and then his mind would go off on a tangent, imagining how other things might feel, might taste. It wasn't helping that he had to keep squirming in his chair.
He wondered what Wesley was thinking, whether the man was regretting what he'd said, and if so, in which direction.
Good lord, this was ridiculous, the two of them dancing around one another this way. Giles knew what his problem was, knew that he was still a bit gun shy about getting involved, even if it were only superficially. Still, he had to jump some time, had to . . .
"Wesley," he said, looking up to find the man already looking at him. Meeting Wesley's gaze, he sighed and stood, moving to sit next to Wes on the couch.
"Yes?" Wesley wasn't looking at him now, but rather studying the book in his lap rather intently. He'd gone tense again and Giles was unsure how to continue.
"We're adults, and it's ridiculous for us to dance around this, so I'm going to be forthright. I want you. I find you extremely attractive. If you want me as well, then I don't see anything stopping us from--"
There was a knock on the door and Giles sighed, shaking his head. "I take that back." Standing, he went to answer it, only to feel Wesley take hold of his wrist. He turned and found the man's eyes on him, that want back in them, burning.
"I hope you mean that, Giles. I . . . want you, as well. I just . . . I hope I've not made a fool of myself by confessing that to you when you're . . . not yourself. Though, I suppose you won't remember if I have, so at least it will be a private humiliation." Wesley gave a slight, self-deprecating laugh.
"Wesley, I wish I could prove . . . I meant that promise," Giles said softly, meeting the man's eyes and ignoring the further knocking until Wesley let go of his arm.
Holding the man's gaze a moment more, Giles turned and went to answer the door. Expecting Buffy or Willow, coming to check in on them, he was quite surprised when what he found was the boy from the library.
"Watcher? I've brought you something." The boy stepped back, pointing to a large body crumpled next to the door. Angel, apparently unconscious, completely unmarked.
Giles raised an eyebrow. The boy was still watching him, eyes wide and unblinking. Finding himself incapable of looking away, Giles swallowed hard. He tried to close the door, but his body was frozen, unresponsive. He was helpless, trapped inside himself.
The world seemed to fall away, seemed to fade and all that was left was the darkness, those eyes. He was sinking, sliding deeper into a void. Memory slammed into him, this same thing, earlier, in the library. He'd grabbed the boy's arm, met those eyes and there was nothing he could do but stand there.
Anger welled up, but it was as useless as the fear that throbbed through his body. He couldn't move, couldn't speak to tell Wesley to run, to tell him what was happening. He could only stand there, losing himself in the boy's eyes.
And then the world exploded into motion around him. He was moving, spinning, his surroundings a blur. His body slammed against something hard, sending pain jolting along every nerve and settling into his unhappy joints. There was a slamming sound, then further sounds, someone shouting, voice loud and seeming to fill his head, rebounding off his skull.
He groaned, trying to get his bearings in a world of moving blurs. There was someone with him, beside him. Wesley's voice, quiet and apprehensive, reached him through the pounding.
"I'm sorry. I had to get you away from him, get the door closed. Are you hurt?"
"Well," Giles said after a moment, the effort it took to speak a frustration he didn't need. "My head feels as if it's likely to split open."
"All right, let's get you to the couch to lie down. I'll get you some--"
"He's still out there," Giles groaned as Wesley helped him to his feet. He had to pause, swallowing down the nausea that pushed his stomach into a tight, aching, knot. Everything still seemed to be wobbling, but at least it was slowing down.
"He's a vampire. We're safe in here."
"No . . ." Giles shook his head and realized his mistake at once. He stumbled, Wesley's arms around him the only thing keeping him upright as he tried to force his stomach back where it belonged. "Angel," he gasped out, going to his knees.
Wesley must have understood what was happening. The wastebasket from beside his desk was suddenly in front of him and Giles gave up the fight, retching as if his insides were in a rush to get out. His head pounded and throbbed until Giles thought it might just collapse in on itself and get the whole ordeal over with.
"Angel's out there?" Wesley was asking, his voice still low, though there was an edge of urgency in it now.
"Unconscious, or . . . something." Accepting the handkerchief that appeared in front of him, Giles wiped his face. Sitting back on his heels and glancing up at Wesley, he motioned toward the phone. "We should see if we can get in touch with Buffy. How . . . how do you know he's a vampire?"
"When I grabbed you, his, uh, his face changed. Also, he tried to get in but hit the barrier." Wesley looked a little sheepish. "I didn't mean to fling you; I, uh, was startled."
"I'm alive," Giles countered, accepting the man's hand up and giving him a weak smile. "I'd say that's worth a few tumbles, er . . . uh, worth a few falls," he corrected, turning toward the phone to hide his embarrassment at such a poor choice of words.
"Yes, well," he heard Wesley say from behind him, even though he detected a note of humor in the man's voice. Snorting, but unable to hold off a small smile, Giles phoned the library. The phone kept ringing, no answer after six or seven times. Sighing, he put the receiver down, mind already worrying over the possibilities.
"No one's answering," he said, eyes skimming toward the door. He sighed, shaking his head. They'd have to do this themselves and Giles wasn't going to let his fear, or anything else, stop him from doing what he knew he had to. Moving to his weapons chest, he retrieved crossbows, holy water, and a few stakes. If things went well, they wouldn't ever be close enough to the boy to need the stakes, but it was better to be prepared.
"They're probably on their way here," Wesley answered, making Giles raise an eyebrow until he realized the man was trying to assure himself.
"Wesley?" Once he'd gotten Wes to look at him, Giles handed him a crossbow. "There's only one of him and there are two of us. He can't get in. We just have to hold him off long enough to get Angel inside. Don't meet the boy's eyes. All right?"
Wesley nodded and Giles watched him take a deep breath. He only hoped Wesley's aim was better than his was going to in his condition. His head was pounding, but at least he could think more clearly now. It was something; likely it was all he was going to get.
Giles glanced quickly outside and then opened the door, keeping his eyes a good bit lower than he would normally have done. Wesley was ready with the crossbow. The weapon didn't even shake in his hand. Moving so that he could look to where Angel had been lying and still stay out of Wesley's way, Giles cursed under his breath.
He hadn't actually expected the boy to leave Angel lying where they could easily drag him inside, but there was always hope. Scanning the courtyard, Giles didn't see any sign of the boy, and yet he was almost certain the vampire was there, almost certain he could feel eyes watching his every move.
Taking up his own crossbow, he motioned for Wesley to follow him. He left the door to his flat open, eyes darting around. One didn't drag a body as big as Angel's away without leaving some sign. The only question was whether they'd be able to see whatever signs it had left.
There was a sound, like something scuttling, and Giles froze. Cursing himself, he glanced up at the edge of the balcony outside his window, just in time to see a blur of movement.
He braced himself for the impact and was surprised when it never came. Instead the blur went past him, colliding with Wesley and knocking the man to the ground. Giles turned, the movement almost too fast for his throbbing head. It took little more than a heartbeat for his vision to settle, but it might as well have been forever. Wesley was shouting, but not screaming, which was a relief.
He brought his crossbow up as soon as he could aim, not a moment's hesitation in him. Something collided with him as he pulled the trigger and Giles went sprawling backwards, clinging to the crossbow even though the bolt was already discharged.
Someone screamed, but he couldn't tell if it was Wesley or the vampire. Giles flipped onto his back, fumbling for the holy water in his pocket, only to freeze when he saw Drusilla standing over him.
"Naughty, naughty," she said, giving him a shark's smile. His eyes focused on that smile, anything to keep from looking at her eyes. "You've been very rude. Haven't you?"
Giles didn't bother answering, instead glancing over at Wesley to find the man had his crossbow against the boy's throat, holding him at bay, but not by much and probably not for long.
"We came to visit and you already had company. You didn't even introduce us; how very, very naughty." Drusilla knelt down and Giles scrambled away from the hand she reached toward him. His hand closed around the holy water, but he knew Drusilla would be on him before he could throw it.
"Yes, well, this is why you should call before showing up on someone's doorstep," Giles muttered, his eyes skittering quickly back to Wesley.
"Now, now," came Spike's voice and Giles growled as the vampire came into his line of sight. "Raj, stop playing with your food, we've got things to do here."
"He's squirmy!" The boy called out in a growl.
"Well, I'm certainly not going to just lie down, you repulsive . . ." Wesley's words trailed away, but some small bit of Giles' worry eased knowing the man was still fighting.
Spike rolled his eyes at the boy, lifting him off of Wesley and reaching down to tug the crossbow out of Wesley's hands. Giles moved then, scrambling back and pulling the holy water free. He threw the bottle at Spike, not at all surprised when Drusilla's hand closed over his wrist, fingernails digging in. Still, Spike's cursing was a gratifying thing.
"You're still being naughty," she growled, hauling him to his feet. Giles kept his eyes on Wesley, away from hers. He watched as the other man quickly got to his feet, avoiding Spike's flailing limbs. Unfortunately, the boy was on him again, grabbing him and tossing him into a wall.
"Wesley!" Giles tried to pull free of Drusilla's grip. Unfortunately, Spike threw off his coat and stepped in his way. The vampire's face was partially burned from the holy water, but it had been a rather bad hit. Most of the water was on his coat.
"Your friend's going to die even more painfully now," Spike said, leaning in close. Giles was tempted to spit in the bastard's face. Unfortunately, Raj dragged Wesley's unconscious body toward them and Giles found himself staring at the Watcher, unable to look away from the streak of blood running from the mouth he'd spent much of the night obsessing over. "Real painful, Watcher. Can't leave him alive now. All your fault."
The last Spike chuckled as he stepped back, his lightness suddenly replaced by darker hair, darker eyes and . . . Giles swallowed hard, feeling himself falling deeper and deeper into those eyes, the world beginning to fall away.
He might have been gone forever for all he knew. It was so sudden, just as it had been earlier. One moment he was falling into the blackness and then he was standing in the courtyard, Drusilla still holding him. The only difference was that now Spike had Wesley by the back of the neck. Wes was awake, kneeling, his head pressed down so far it was almost touching the ground.
"I'll kill you for this," Giles said softly, looking at Spike and avoiding all other eyes.
"Funny," Spike said with a malicious smirk, "here I was thinkin' that--"
"We had a deal, Spike. What do you think you're doing with my Watchers?" Buffy's voice sent a jolt of relief through Giles. He wasn't fool enough to think that he and Wesley alone could take on Spike, Drusilla, and this new vampire, after all. Especially not given how things had gone so far.
"Slayer," Spike hissed. "You always did have a bloody awful sense of timing."
The vampire all but flung Wesley away. Giles worried about the easy, limp fall of the man's body. He pulled hard against Drusilla's grip, tore his arm free, yelping at the bite of Drusilla's nails. Giles ignored the burning pain in his wrist and the pounding of his head in his rush to get to Wesley.
Drusilla was laughing. Never a good sign, that. Once he'd found Wesley's pulse, he pulled out the bottle of holy water he'd earlier given to Wesley and turned toward the vampires.
Drusilla was backing toward one of the courtyard walls. Spike and Buffy were fighting; their bodies blurred in the confined space, punches and kicks moving so fast and countered so quickly it looked more like choreographed dance than fighting.
The boy jumped in, apparently trying to overwhelm Buffy. Xander rushed to help, but it was completely unnecessary. Buffy staked the young vampire easily, turning back to Spike only to find him jumping away from her, over the fountain.
"Now, Dru!" Spike shouted. Giles' eyes flew to the woman just in time to see her lift her nails to lips, licking the blood there--his blood.
The pressure in his head increased, doubling him over, pushing and pushing until it seemed he was squeezed out, floating in the blackness again. Frantic this time, his mind snapping together the pieces of the puzzle he'd been missing last time, Giles fought. He called upon a will honed by years of study, then years of magic, then years of no magic, then years of Buffy.
He fought with everything he was, his fear and anger fueling the fight. Sound returned with a boom like the ocean crashing against shore. There was only silence and then sound was everywhere, filling his aching head. Which was when he realized that feeling had returned as well, realized that there was once again something in his hands.
"Willow, quick!" He heard Buffy shouting. Then sight returned and though he couldn't make himself stop, he could see what he was doing, could see Buffy trying to fend him off without hurting him as he scratched, clawed, trying to get his hands around her neck.
The words of an incantation sounded to his right and Giles shuddered, feeling magic, Willow's magic, wrap itself around him, constricting. Screaming with the pain of it, Giles threw himself away from Buffy, panting as he rolled and came to a stop against the fountain.
There was silence again, though not the preternatural silence of wherever he had been. Just the silence of a warm California night. Blinking, Giles sat up, holding his head in his hands.
"Giles?" Buffy's voice was soft and worried. Giles found himself meeting her eyes without a thought. "You're, uh, you again?"
"As far as I can tell," he muttered, sighing. "Not that, I think, that means a lot. Spike and Drusilla?"
"Gone," Xander supplied with a sigh.
"I think it worked," Willow put in, coming to stand beside Buffy. "It, uh, it should have sealed the . . . the wounds Dru and . . . and that kid left there. Are you . . . how do you feel?"
Giles snorted, remembering just in time to keep from shaking his head. "Why is it always my head? Can't they go for parts I use less next time?"
"Okay, so maybe I was wrong earlier," Xander chuckled nervously and Giles looked over at him, feeling his eyebrow raise and surprised by the pain that simple action caused. "Uh, nothing. Just . . . I'll go check on Wesley."
"I'm fine . . . really." Wes' voice came from the other side of the courtyard. Giles glanced around Xander to see the Watcher sitting up next to the door. He gave the man a doubtful look and was quite surprised to see Wesley smile slightly. "Promise."
Giles snorted, accepting Buffy's hand up. "I think some explanations are in order," he said, glancing at Willow, allowing Buffy to help him into his flat. They all refused to speak until he'd been settled into his armchair. He felt rather like an old man just then, surrounded by anxious young faces.
"So?" he prompted.
"Willow studied the spell we found in the warehouse they were using," Buffy volunteered, looking around with a frown. "Where's Angel?"
"Damn," Giles snapped, making to stand and then thinking better of it when his knees gave out. "He was outside, uh, when the boy first knocked. Unconscious, but I don't know what they did with him. Wesley and I went out to try and drag him in. I didn't think there would be more than just the boy."
Buffy's eyes widened and she ran out of the flat.
"You don't think they . . . " Xander mimed a staking action, glancing from him to Wesley and back again.
"I don't know," Giles said with a frown, watching the door. He had to admit to some relief, if only for Buffy's sake, as he watched her help a rather confused Angel into the living room.
"One minute there was this vampire kid standing there and then . . . you were there," Angel was telling Buffy, shaking his head.
"Yeah, well, he's a pile of dust now," Buffy grumbled, glancing from Angel to Giles. "Are you okay now?"
"I have no idea," Giles shrugged, pulling his head out of his hand to look to Willow.
"Well, I adapted a spell to check." She nodded proudly and Giles was too worn out to give her a lecture about responsible magics. Especially since she'd heard it time and again. "It's this powder. It should tell us whether or not there are any connections left. The earlier spell . . . uh, it was kinda rushed, so . . . if there are, we just have to do the first one again and--"
"Yes, yes," Giles said with a weary sigh. Right then, he wanted to go to bed and forget most of this day. "Just . . . can we get on with it?"
He struggled to sit still while Willow sprinkled dust over him, relaxed with relief when she said that the connections were, indeed, closed, and wanted to shout for joy when Wesley suggested they should leave Giles to his rest.
He gave a thankful smile to the other man, surprised when Wesley closed the door after the children and gave him a shy smile. "I, uh, wanted to . . . uh, discuss . . . do you remember . . . oh, my." Wesley shook his head, chewing on his lip.
Giles felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Wesley? I promised, and I meant it."
Wesley looked up, meeting his eyes. "Well. I should go, then . . . Obviously, neither of us is up to . . . anything tonight."
Giles tilted his head, snorting. "No, I don't think we are. Doesn't mean you can't stay. You certainly shouldn't be driving."
Wesley looked up at that, blinking. "You'd, er, want me to? Even though . . ."
"I do believe I just invited you to spend the night," Giles stepped closer, a thrill shooting through him when Wesley smiled.
"I think I'd like that."
------
"Shouldn't we wait for Wesley?" Buffy said, turning to look back at the door. "He probably shouldn't drive himself home."
"Uh, I don't . . . think he's going home," Angel put in with a sheepish look.
"What?" Buffy asked, the question echoed by Willow and Xander.
"I think he's, er, staying with Giles," Angel's tone gave away his meaning and Buffy blinked, shaking her head.
"Uh, no. They hate each other," she said, glancing back to the door.
"Er, not . . . really." The vampire seemed uncomfortable with all their eyes on him, but Buffy barely noticed, looking back to the door to Giles' flat, forehead furrowing.
"Well," Willow finally said, shrugging. "I think they'd look cute together. And . . . well, at least they'd have things to talk about . . ."
"Yeah," Buffy agreed sarcastically, "like their mutual, seething, hatred!"
Xander snorted and Buffy looked to find him glancing in the window. "Doesn't look like seething hatred to me. Looks more like . . . Oh, god! My eyes!"