Beeks had Al so worked up over Sam that he hadn't slept a wink, and he'd spent the entire morning sulking behind his desk, pretending to do paperwork. He'd already consumed half a bottle of antacid, trying to calm his churning stomach, but it hadn't done much good. What he really needed was some serious denial. If he could get Buffy to help him find a way to stop the apocalypse, then his problem with Sam would be neatly solved. Or at least pushed back into the closet where it belonged.

Al swiped his security card through the lock on the new and improved Waiting Room door and waited for the green light. Everyone knew that Buffy could easily bust through the door if she wanted to, but Al had convinced her that she was safer inside if things got any more apocalyptic.

The door slid open and Al entered the room where Buffy was pacing like a caged animal. She looked up at him questioningly, probably hoping that he had good news. But Al's expression must have told her otherwise, because she deflated before his eyes.

Al tried to empathise, but he just couldn't—she was at the heart of all his troubles, after all. And even though he knew it wasn't her fault, he still found it hard to remain civil. So until now he'd kept his visits with her short, asking only what needed to be asked and nothing more. But as much as he hated to admit it, he needed her help now.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we've run into a bit of a snag," he said.

He quickly filled her in on what he'd neglected to tell her earlier; that a vampire had quantum leaped into Spike and was trying to kill Sam. She seemed to be less surprised than anyone else at the idea—but then, she dealt with the supernatural on a daily basis, so he guessed it only made sense.

"So we're talkin' a government sponsored program that somehow ended up in the hands of Evil Incorporated?" she asked.

"That's one way of putting it," Al agreed.

"Top secret kind of stuff?"

"As secret as it gets."

"And you don't know when this evil project was started—it's possible it doesn't even exist yet," she said.

"What are you getting at?" asked Al.

"Doesn't it seem weird to you that this vampire leaper didn't show up until after you started prying into the affairs of the Initiative? Think about it—one secret government project, set up to capture and study demons, stumbles across another secret government project, tinkering in time travel—it's a perfect 'you got your chocolate in my peanut butter' situation."

"So you think the Initiative is the brains behind Lothos?"

"It makes sense," said Buffy. "They have government funding, and handy access to vampires, some of which have life spans going back centuries—who better to time travel within their own lifetime?"

"Good point," said Al. "It's a bit hinky, but there's a weird kind of logic to it. And I can see how the government might look past having an un-dead guy in the accelerator if they thought it might allow them to travel further into the past. But they would never provide funding for another time travel project so long as Quantum Leap is still active."

"Hence the having to kill Sam," she said.

Al's heart nearly slammed to a stop. Of course the government wouldn't fund a new project—not when they could simply hand over Quantum Leap to the Initiative and let them do a little creative reprogramming. And from what they'd witnessed of Lothos' agenda, the Initiative had clearly lost control of their creation. With the demons at the helm, nearly all of history would become their playground. Only two things stood in their way: the slayer and Sam. They couldn't very well leave Sam in the past where he might throw a monkey wrench into the works, and the slayer was a real challenge—kill her and another one rises to take her place. But trap her in the Waiting Room while they go back and kill Sam, and they effectively take care of both threats at once.

"We gotta get him outta there," Al said.

"You only just figured that out?" said Buffy, earning her a scowl from the agitated Admiral. "Look, you told me that Sam can't leap until he sets something right. Right? You must have some idea what he's there to do by now."

Al didn't answer her. Why did it always come down to this, he wondered? Why did it matter so much that Buffy and Giles get together? There had to be some other way…after all, Sam might be wrong.

There was one way to find out. He fixed his eyes on Buffy and tried to ignore the fact that she looked like Sam. "There's something I need to know," he said at last. "Are you in love with Giles?"

Buffy blinked at him like he'd just slapped her across the face. "What, Giles? Don't be stupid. He's…he's so…he couldn't…and anyways, it would never work." She tried to recover her composure, but it was too late—Al had seen it in her eyes.

Al nodded brusquely and left, feeling far worse for their conversation. There was only one thing left to do. Taking a deep breath, Al bolstered himself to commit to a course of action that he found distasteful. It was time to ask Ziggy the big question. He marched into the control room and ordered Tina and Gooshie to leave. They eyed him suspiciously, but did as he asked.

When he was sure he was alone, he addressed the computer: "Ziggy—any idea what the chances are that Sam's supposed to get Buffy and Giles together?" he asked.

"I was wondering when someone was going to ask me that," came Ziggy's liltingly sensual voice from the ether.

"Just do the math and spare me the attitude," said Al.

"What's wrong, Admiral? You seem grumpy today. More grumpy than usual," she purred annoyingly.

"Ziggy…" Al warned.

"Are you afraid you won't like the answer?" Ziggy teased.

"Ziggy, if you don't cut it out I'll have Gooshie reprogram you with a mallet."

"Ooh, Admiral! You're sexy when you're angry."

"Ziggy!"

"All right, Admiral. If you really must know, there's a 94 probability that Dr. Beckett will leap if he succeeds in bringing Buffy Summers and Rupert Giles together."

Al's shoulders sagged. A part of him had been holding out for the possibility that Sam had been wrong—that all the evidence had been wrong.

"But," Ziggy continued, "there's now an 81 chance that Dr. Beckett will be killed shortly after sunset."

"What?" Al shouted. "Why didn't you tell me that first?"

"You never asked," she said sulkily.

Al snatched the hand link from its cradle on the main console and charged into the Imaging Chamber.

"Maybe next time you won't wait so long before asking the important questions," Ziggy remarked as the door closed behind him.

Al walked through the door and into Buffy's bedroom. Sam was asleep, blissfully unaware that he might have only a couple of hours to live.

"Sam! Sam wake up!" Al shouted. But the drugs in Sam's system had him under so deep that he didn't even hear him. "Sam! C'mon, buddy!" Al paced around the bedroom, trying to think of a way to get his friend to wake up.

Then there was a knock at the door.

"That's good—knock louder," said Al. But instead the door creaked open and Giles peeked in. "Oh. It's you," Al said flatly.

"Buffy?" said Giles as he approached the bed. "Buffy, can you hear me?"

"You're gonna have to talk a lot louder than that," said Al.

Giles sat down on the bed next to Sam, and Al could practically feel his feathers ruffling. "Don't you get any ideas, pal. That's my friend you got there—try anything and I'll see to it that you walk funny for the rest of your life. Got it?" asked Al, knowing full well that he wasn't going to get an answer.

Giles, oblivious to the threats being lobbed his way, reached out and cupped Sam's cheek in his hand, stroking it almost absentmindedly with his thumb. Al began to pace.

"I want to stay," Giles whispered, "more than anything. And that's what frightens me." Giles chuckled softly as he looked down at his sleeping slayer. "If you only knew… I never told you this, but that night, when I watched you fall from the scaffolds to your death, the greater part of me died with you. And when I got you back…well, let's just say I couldn't bear to lose you again."

As Giles gently brushed away Sam's bangs and laid a kiss on his forehead, Al watched on helplessly, feeling the venomous tendrils of jealousy uncoiling in his heart.

"I know you can't hear me," Giles continued, "but if anything should happen to me tonight, I hope you'll understand that I did it for me as much as for you." Once again he smoothed Sam's bangs from his forehead, making him stir in his sleep, then he quietly got up and left before Sam could fully wake up.

When Sam's eyes blinked open, the first thing he saw was Al hovering over him. "Al?" he said. "What time is it? How long have I been out?"

"I've been trying to wake you up, Sam," said Al. "There's been a development."

"I don't suppose it's a good one?"

"No such luck, I'm afraid. Ziggy crunched some numbers…"

"And?"

"There's an 81 chance that you're gonna be killed just after sunset tonight."

"I don't see how," said Sam, seemingly un-phased by the news. "I'm not going anywhere in the shape I'm in, so unless this vampire Lothos sent to kill me gets invited in… Oh boy."

"Oh boy? I don't like the sounds of that," said Al warily.

"This vampire looks like Spike," said Sam. "And Spike is a friend of theirs…"

"Oh—so you think one of them might have invited him in by accident?" asked Al.

"Al, I need to find Giles so I can warn him. Can you find out where he is?"

Al looked down at his hand link guiltily. "Uh…Giles just left before you woke up," he said.

"Good, so he's probably downstairs, then."

"I don't think so, Sam. He said something…I can't remember the exact words, precisely, but I think he's gone out to hunt down the vampire."

"Al! Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked," said Al, figuring if the excuse was good enough for Ziggy, it was good enough for him. But Sam was glaring at him like he would smack a straight answer out of him if he could. "You wanna know why? Because I knew you'd go after him, Sam. And I knew that if you did that, you'd get yourself killed just like Ziggy predicted."

"I might be in more danger staying here, Al. Can Ziggy at least narrow it down to a specific time and place?"

"Good idea, Sam," said Al, punching the question into his hand link. But the colourful little control remained stubbornly unresponsive, even after a bout of Al's abusive form of encouragement. "Ziggy! Answer me, you egotistical pile of circuitry!"

"What's going on, Al?" asked Sam.

"It's nothing," Al answered. "Ziggy and I had a little tiff earlier."

"Oh? About what?"

"Nothing important," Al mumbled evasively, then yelled; "Gooshie! Can't you do something? Help me out here." Al stood waiting for an answer, but received none. Then he remembered that he'd asked Tina and Gooshie to leave the Control Room. "Gooshie!" he yelled louder, hoping the controller would hear him from wherever he was. When he still got no answer, Al jabbed at the hand link, trying to open the Imaging Chamber door. "Dammit!"

"Al, would you calm down?" said Sam.

"Ziggy, this isn't funny—open the door. Right now," Al shouted at the ceiling.

"Al…"

"I'm locked in, Sam!" said Al, with equal parts anger and fear. "Which means either Ziggy's really pissed at me this time…"

"Or something's happened at the Project that's keeping them busy," Sam finished. He flung the blankets off of him and struggled and grunted his way into a sitting position.

"What are you doing?" asked Al.

"I'm going to find Giles," Sam answered.

"You'll get yourself killed out there."

"We don't know that," said Sam. "At least if I find Giles I stand a chance of doing what I came here to do so I can leap out of here. And don't start with the lectures on morality—I've about had it up to here with your homophobia." Sam peered at his holographic friend, waiting for the meltdown, but to his surprise, Al remained silent. He didn't look too thrilled about it, but at least he was keeping his opinions to himself for a change.

Al watched Sam manoeuvre himself to his feet, wishing he could do something to help. He hated seeing Sam in pain, knowing there was nothing he could do for him. He'd never let on how much it bothered him before, but it was harder this time to hide his feelings, thanks to Beeks' pulling the emotional carpet out from under him. What he wanted, more than anything, was to lock himself in his quarters for a week and drink until this whole mess became a fuzzy, distant memory. But that was out of the question. Even if he could get out of the Imaging Chamber, he owed it to Sam to stay sober.

Al could practically feel Sam's questioning gaze drilling into him as they slowly picked their way down the stairs. Sam was no doubt wondering why he hadn't said a word to him the whole time. Al pretended not to notice his friend's concern. The last thing he needed was to be put through the ringer again today.

The house was quiet, with everyone either in classes or at work, and Sam was able to slip out without a hassle. But once he was outside, he stopped.

"Which way, Al?" he asked, breaking the tense silence at last.

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Al. "I'm getting zip from the hand link."

"Nothing at all?" asked Sam, unable to mask his anxiety.

"Nada. That's not good, is it?" asked Al.

"Don't worry—if anything apocalyptic had happened, you wouldn't still be here, would you?"

"You're forgetting the fail-safes, kid. The Imaging Chamber and the Waiting Room can withstand a ground level nuclear detonation. I could very well be the last man on Earth," said Al in fearful awe.

Sam began walking purposefully down the street, as fast as his injuries allowed.

"Where are you going?" asked Al.

"I'm going to find Giles," he answered.

"But you don't know where he is."

"I'll find him," said Sam determinedly. He kept walking, not caring if Al came with him or not.

With a deep sigh, Al tucked the useless hand link into his pocket and followed Sam to whatever the future had in store for them.

The sun was getting lower with every step they took, and Al was starting to get a bit antsy. "Maybe you should turn back, Sam," he said for the hundredth time.

Sam didn't answer him. He didn't know why Al was freaking out so much about this leap—it's not like he hadn't been in dangerous situations before—but it was really starting to get on his nerves.

"Sa-a-a-m—it's after sunset," Al warned redundantly.

"Will you stop that? If you want to be useful, why don't you walk ahead of me and let me know if there's trouble."

"Okay, but I'm telling ya, I'd feel a whole lot better if you'd head back home. This place gives me the heebie-jeebies."

"It's a cemetery—of course it gives you the heebie-jeebies. I've got 'em too, but I'm not going home until I find Giles," said Sam adamantly.

Al shook his head sadly and walked ahead, patting his jacket pocket for his cigars. He sighed even more sadly—he'd already smoked the last one.

Al was barely out of sight before Sam heard him yelling: "There's trouble! There's big-time trouble!" Al came flying through the bushes in a frenzy. "Run, Sam! Run!"

The bushes rattled and swayed, and before Sam could follow Al's sage advice, Spike appeared in the clearing. Their eyes met, and the vampire's face lit up with a sadistic grin.

"Well, look who we have here," said the blond vampire.

"Giles!" Sam shouted, blindly hoping that he might be within hearing range.

Running was pointless—Spike was on him in a heartbeat. But Sam's adrenalin had kicked in, and the pain in his ribs subsided into a dull throb, allowing him to get in a few really good punches before the first blow hit him. He knew he couldn't survive a prolonged fight, but if he could hold him off long enough…

"Sam! Get out of there. Aw, jeez, Sam!" said Al, gesturing madly off to the side.

The vampire had Sam pinned to the ground, the physical contact between them cutting through the illusion that made him look like Spike. "Giles!" Sam shouted again, his heart thudding in his chest as he stared up at the big, red-haired vampire straddling him. To his horror, the creature ripped open Sam's shirt and sneered down at him, practically drooling.

"Go ahead, yell s'more," the vampire mocked. "Struggle all ya want—I like to play with my food. But it ain't gonna do ya any good. You're as good as dead—which means the future is ours."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," came a distinctly British voice. The vampire craned his neck to see who had spoken and received a bone-cracking punch to the face.

"Thank God!" said Al. "I never thought I'd be so glad to see you."

Sam shoved hard at the vampire, pushing him off of him and into the arms of Rupert Giles. Giles wasted no time throwing the vampire to the ground and laying into him with everything he had. The vampire kept trying to get back on his feet, but Giles knocked him down every time. Giles had his stake drawn, but he wasn't finished getting his kicks in just yet—this fight was personal. Only when the vampire had been reduced to a pathetic, whimpering mass on the ground did he prepare to make the final blow.

"No! No, it's not too late! Give me one more chance," said the vampire to someone no one else could see. Sam realised it was the vampire's observer from the future—Al's counterpart—and that the evil leaper was being recalled. Sam crawled over to them and laid his hand on the vampire's arm, blocking Giles' aim in the process.

"Buffy, what are you doing?" asked Giles. "He was going to kill you."

Sam shook his head. "He's gone, Giles." He was looking down at a very confused-looking Spike, the red-haired impostor having leapt out when he'd failed in his mission to kill Sam. "It's Spike again."

Giles looked down at the bleach-blond vampire as if he was considering staking him anyways, just to make him feel better.

"Bloody hell, Watcher—careful where you point that thing," said Spike, rolling out of reach.

"It's okay, Giles. I'm okay," said Sam, clutching his ripped shirt closed.

"You did it, Sam!" said Al. "You stopped the apocalypse. When that vampire Lothos sent couldn't kill you their whole plan must've fallen apart. See?" he said, waving his now-flashing hand link at his friend. "Ziggy's back. So you can leap now."

"Whatever happened here, I had nothin' to do with it," said Spike as he climbed painfully to his feet and brushed the dirt from his duster.

"Leave, Spike," growled Giles. "Leave now."

Spike managed to look indignant, even as he winced at the injuries he'd somehow mysteriously received. The last thing he remembered was trying to kiss Buffy, and the next thing he knew he was lying on the ground, beaten to a bloody pulp with an angry watcher about to stake him. He was smart enough to figure out that Giles wouldn't hesitate to finish the job if he was given the opportunity. So he did the only thing he could do—he gave Giles the bird and limped away with as much dignity as he could manage.

"Any time now," said Al. "Get ready to leap, Sam."

"I don't think my job here is finished just yet," said Sam with a sparkle in his eyes.

"What was that, Buffy?" asked Giles, kneeling down next to him on the grass.

"I said, you don't think you're job here is finished yet, do you?" said Sam to Giles.

"I don't understand what you mean," he answered.

"I mean, you can't leave," said Sam. "You can't go back to England."

"Buffy, we talked about this…"

"Last night you said you wouldn't leave me until I was back to my old self again," said Sam. "Those were your exact words."

Giles frowned, not knowing where this was headed. "Alright, I'll go along with that."

"Then you can never leave me, Giles, because I'll never be my old self ever again. I'll always be my new self—the one who loves you. The one who's not afraid to tell you that."

"Bad idea, Sam," said Al. "Tell him you're kidding, right now, or you'll ruin their friendship forever."

Giles looked like he was expecting him to tell him just that. He blinked at Sam speechlessly for a moment before finally finding his voice. "Buffy, if this is some kind of joke…if you're just saying whatever you think I want to hear, just so I'll stay…"

"Anyone ever tell you you think too much?" said Sam, and he reached his hand up and around the back of Giles' neck, pulling him closer. He could feel the other man resisting, but when their lips finally met, Giles moaned and quickly gave in.

It was softer and sweeter than Sam expected it to be. But it was definitely different, and not in a bad way. Giles' lips were demanding, pleading with him to deepen the kiss. Sam felt the other man's tongue sweep across his lips, and he opened his mouth, trembling at the strange new sensation of being with another man. He lost himself in the embrace; allowing Giles to free something in him that he'd never guessed was there.

"Oh, g-a-a-a-w-d, Sam!" Al groaned, but Sam was too wrapped up in the kiss to even hear him, let alone realise that it was lust, not disgust, that had inspired the outburst.

When they at last broke the kiss, panting wantonly in their mutual desire, Giles clasped his hands with Sam's and stared deeply into his eyes. "I love you, too, Buffy Summers." Then, to prove the fact, he once again captured Sam's lips with his own.

Al paced frantically, trying not to watch, but utterly failing to pull himself away from the sight of his best friend kissing another man. It hurt more than he could fathom, dredging up the deepest and most frightening feelings he'd kept buried through all those years of working alongside the brilliant young scientist. Just when he thought he could stand it no longer, the familiar sparkling blue lights appeared around Sam, enveloping him in an eerie, glowing aura, and Sam leaped.