Author's Note: Oh, by the way, this fic includes character death. Incase you hadn't noticed. Have I mentioned that I heart Giles?

Chapter 4

Jimmy was playing a Gameboy when the blonde girl burst through the doors of the Sunnydale Arms. He tossed his game under the counter and tried to look professional as she jogged up to him.

"Where's your phone? I need to use it," she demanded.

Jimmy gestured to the courtesy phone sitting on the counter, two feet away from where he stood. The girl seized it and dialed 9-1-1.

"I need an ambulance and paramedics at eleven-fifty-six Main Street, the Sunnydale Arms, room five-oh-three." She appeared to be listening to someone on the other end. "I don't know…" Her voice rose with desperation. "I don't know what happened, maybe he had a stroke, or a heart attack, or someone broke into his room, I don't know, I just need help!" She appeared to be calmed by what the other person was saying. "Okay, well hurry." She slammed the receiver down with a resounding crack. Maybe "calmed" was too strong a word.

Jimmy stared. How could she know what's going on at the hotel, when he hadn't even heard anything about an emergency? It must have been a crank call.

"Miss, what's going on?" he asked, trying his best to sound authoritative.

She turned to Jimmy and spoke as if he hadn't said a word. "I need to get into Rupert Giles' room, number five-oh-three, do you have a key?"

"Look, I can't just –"

"There isn't time!" The girl pounded the marble counter top with her fist, and cracks spidered out from where she made impact. "Either you get me the key, or I go up there and break down the door myself, along with whatever security you call up to put in my way."

Jimmy licked his lips nervously and glanced at the damaged counter top. "I'll get the manager."

Willow was working on her laptop in the kitchen. With light streaming in through the window and the house quiet, with all the potentials training in the backyard, it was the perfect spot to get some quality research done.

"Willow?" Giles' voice came from behind her, and she spun around to see him standing in the doorway.

"Giles! Hi, how're you feeling?" Willow asked. He really had looked deathly ill the night before.

"Quite a bit better, actually," he smiled in reply, stepping into the kitchen.

Willow was relieved. "Good, you had us all worried."

"I apologize for having upset you," he said sincerely. He seemed genuinely touched by her concern.

"Well, just don't do it again, capice?"

"I promise, I won't."

"Good."

They shared a smile. Willow noticed that Giles really did look remarkably better. He almost looked like his old self – like he did back in England. Yet there was still something odd about him. But then there had been ever since he had come back to Sunnydale.

"So, what were you so keen on getting done last night?" she asked curiously, turning back to her computer.

"Not much. I talked to some old friends," he replied casually. He stepped into the kitchen and wandered over to lean against the counter on the other side of the kitchen island from Willow.

"Uh huh?"

"I called the coven as well," Giles told her conversationally.

"Yeah? How is everyone?" Willow asked.

"Quite well. They, er, had lot of question about you, actually."

There was something in the way Giles said it that made Willow worry, made her think that the witches didn't ask about her secrets to hair-care. She looked up from the computer screen. "About me?"

"They, um, e-expressed some concern about the level of control you have over your powers." Giles said delicately.

"Oh… but, I-I've been getting better. You told them that, right?"

"I did. Even though it's been twice now that your powers have taken on a, erm, life of their own, I explained that you have been improving… However, they seemed particularly worried over the fact that your spells allowed the First to use you as a conduit."

Willow winced. "Only a little."

Giles continued, choosing his words carefully. "They seem to be afraid that having opened yourself to the First's presence, you have made yourself vulnerable to it's influence, and that after what happened last year –"

"I'm not going to go evil again," Willow said adamantly.

"And I don't doubt that," Giles assured her hastily. "I defended you, Willow. Unfortunately the coven is not easily convinced, and they insist that you cannot be entirely trusted."

"What…?" It was too painful to believe; that the women she had spent the summer with, who had seemed to show so much faith in her abilities, didn't trust her with her own powers. Had she really screwed up that much?

"I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you that way…" He seemed genuinely regretful that the words had come out the way they did. He continued, "At any rate, they suggested that it might be best if you left Sunnydale for a while."

"Leave…?"

"And… I don't entirely disagree with them," Giles added softly.

Willow stared at him with a wounded expression.

"Willow… the fact is that you have a great deal of power that may be used by the First for its own purposes, whether you want it to or not. Until you develop a stronger grasp of those powers, they are a danger to yourself as well as those around you. And I would hate myself if I allowed anything to happen that might have been prevented if –"

"I-I don't understand. I'm getting better. And I'm helping. Now all of a sudden, you want me to run away?"

"It's not running away." He spoke in a gentle, reassuring tone. "You have an enormous amount of power, Willow. And with that comes the responsibility to understand and control it. We've discussed this."

"But, they need me here," Willow said desperately. "Buffy needs me."

"I'm beginning to question how much Buffy needs any of us," Giles caught himself complaining bitterly, and quickly changed his demeanor. "I'm sorry."

"No, I-I know what you mean," Willow admitted sadly.

"It was uncalled for…" Giles insisted, then continued with the topic at hand. "Willow, think of how much more you could accomplish if you leave now and return in a month or so, stronger than ever. It could make all the difference."

"Maybe…" The young witch considered his point.

"You'll think about it, won't you? Promise me?"

"I will."

Giles nodded. "Whatever you decide, I'm certain it will be the right choice," he said with a significant look, and a smile of encouragement.

Willow smiled weakly back. Her smile faded as soon as Giles left the room.

The blonde girl was out of the elevator before the doors finished opening. She raced down the hallway, with Gerald Bergstrom, manager of the Sunnydale Arms, jogging behind her.

Gerald knocked on the door of 503.

"Just open up!" the blonde demanded

Some of her urgency was rubbing off on Gerald, so when no one answered immediately, he didn't hesitate to swipe the flash card through the lock. Heaven knows, he had seen enough in his time in Sunnydale to realize that anything that could go wrong, would.

He wasn't disappointed.

The man could have been sleeping, his eyes closed gently behind the glasses he still wore, one hand still holding the book that lay open on his chest, the other hanging limply over the side of the bed. A glass lay overturned on the carpet next to the bed, and the hotel manager couldn't help but wince, thinking of the cost of removing the alcohol stain from the rug.

He didn't wake as the pair stormed into the room, didn't stir. Gerald approached the bed to check for a pulse, but could already tell from the gray tone of the man's skin that he would find none.

Gerald had expected the girl to run to the bed, as she had been running everywhere since he first saw her, and start shaking the man by the shoulders, calling his name. He was glad when she didn't. He had seen enough of that in this hotel, people returning to find loved ones dead in their rooms. Usually, there were neck ruptures. But this one seemed normal. Well, as normal as such things could be.

He looked up and turned to the girl. She was standing in the centre of the room, staring. Her mouth was set in a hard line, and though her eyes swam with tears, none overflowed. He shook his head. No pulse. She tilted her chin in something of a nod. As if confirming something she had already known.

Gerald heard the paramedics getting off the elevator and coming down the hall. He went to the door and called to them, "In here."

When he went back in, the girl had turned away from the bed, as the paramedics did whatever it was they did. She stood next to the writing desk, and ran her fingers over the cover of a book that sat on top. When she picked it up and opened it, Gerald saw that the pages were hand-written.

One of the paramedics turned from the bed, his gaze shifting between Gerald and the blonde girl. "Are either of you family?"

The girl closed the book and held it at her side.

"I am."

"Good morning, Xander," Giles said as he entered the living room.

"Hey Giles," Xander replied, glancing up from the book he was studying. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you. Reading something?"

"Believe it or not. There's some big demony thing running around, wreaking havoc. Doesn't seem to have any plan, just big with the smash and kill. Seems pretty durable, though, so we're looking for a way to kill it." He leafed through the book in his lap, decided it was of no more use to him, and chose another from the coffee table. "Anya should be here soon to help out."

Giles seemed to consider what Xander had told him. "You and Anya are handling this on your own?"

"Someone's gotta. You and the Buffmeister are kinda preoccupied with the big loomin' evil." He glanced up from the book. "Understandably. There's still a bunch o' little bitty evils to deal with. Or, in this case a large, hulking, ugly evil."

"You've taken on quite a bit, haven't you?" Giles regarded him thoughtfully. "I'm impressed."

Xander shrugged in a self-deprecating manner, though he was clearly pleased.

"Does Buffy know what's going on?" Giles asked, off-hand.

"If she does, she hasn't shown it. We really don't talk much these days," Xander explained.

"I suppose that if she did, she wouldn't be so keen getting you out of the way," Giles remarked casually.

Xander looked up at the older man, disbelief apparent on his face. "She's what?"

Giles cocked his head inquisitively. "Didn't she tell you?"

"No." Xander's gaze shifted downwards, thought he clearly was not seeing the pages before him. "Not that Buffy's told me much of anything."

Giles gave Xander a pitying look.

Suzanne hated taking passengers in the ambulance. Especially when there was nothing to be done, no one to be saved. You'd think she'd be used to it by now, have some standard words of comfort to offer at least. But it never got any better. What made it worse was when they wanted to talk. She never knew how to respond. They probably thought that because she was a woman she was all sensitive or something. Well, guess what? Spending your time driving the dead and dying around town kinda desensitizes a person.

At least this passenger was keeping to herself. The blonde just stared vacantly, clutching her book to her chest like some kind of shy schoolgirl.

Then the sniffles started. Then the hiccoughs. Then the halting, half-stifled sobs. Suzanne expected the blonde to start bawling and weeping, but she didn't, which was something to be grateful for. But the longer it went on, the more she wished the girl would just break down and have a good wail. The restrained sobs had a way of being somehow more pathetic and… heartbreaking. Suzanne was about to tell her too, but by that time, they had arrived at Sunnydale Memorial.

Willow was still lost in thought when the phone rang.

"I'll get it," she called to Xander and Giles, who were in the living room, discussing something intently.

"Hello?… Buffy, hi." Willow furrowed her brow. "Is something wrong?"

Xander was becoming increasingly agitated as Giles talked.

"It's not just you, of course," the Watcher was saying. "Buffy hasn't paid any of us much mind as of late. But I would think that you've proven your competency enough times for her to –"

He was interrupted by Willow's voice. "Get out," she growled. Xander and Giles turned to see her standing in the doorway, glaring at Giles, radiating power and fury.

Giles blinked. "Excuse me?" he asked, moderately puzzled.

"Leave. Now."

Xander looked warily between his two friends. "Uh, Will? What's going on?"

The corners of Giles' mouth turned up in a malicious smile as he turned to Xander. "Don't tell me you haven't figured it out yet. It's a marvel that someone as painfully stupid as you hasn't impaled himself on a stake by now."

"I said, get out." Willow's eyes had turned pitch black.

Giles regarded her, seemingly entertained. "Careful now, you don't want to inadvertently flay the entire household."

"Willow?" Xander's voice was timid, and he looked at the figure that he had thought to be Giles with dawning fear.

"Has the penny finally dropped?" it asked him. "Or am I being overly optimistic? God, I pity these people for having to put up with you."

The front door opened, and Anya strode in. "Sorry I'm late, I…" she stopped when she noticed that no one had acknowledged her entrance. "Hello? I'm here. Don't I get a greeting?"

At least Giles nodded in her direction, though he addressed himself to Willow, "Although I suppose the true test of your patience was in not cutting out this twit's tongue years ago."

"Oh, ha ha." Anya said, tossing her purse on the hall table and crossing her arms. "I don't know what your problem's been lately, Giles, but whatever it is, there's no reason to bitch at the rest of us."

"That's not Giles," Xander said, without removing his eyes from the individual in question.

"Oh, bravo," it said dryly.

"What? What's going on?"

The First turned to Anya. "You're a monster, you know. You'll never really fit in with them. They've never even liked you. Even when you die for them – which is more than likely – and go to hell – which you will, because you are a creature of evil – they won't shed a tear. In fact, they'll be relieved to have you gone."

"Shut up!" Xander yelled, as Anya stood silently, looking as though she had just been spit on.

"Don't you dare use his face again," Willow snarled.

The First turned towards her, slowly, as amusement played across its features. "Are you threatening me?" Willow only glared in confirmation. "What precisely do you think you can do to harm me?" It smirked when the question was met with silence. "Well, I can tell when I've worn out my welcome." It looked around at the friends, with a smile that was cruel and smug, looking alien on Giles' face. "Oh, and in case you were wondering," the First added in an offhand, casual tone, "his death was painful and lonely, and really quite pathetic. You could have saved him last night, but you would have done better to have noticed he was ill when he first returned. And yes, you should absolutely blame yourselves."

And with that it disappeared, leaving nothing but stunned silence in its wake.

Anya was like stone, staring at the spot where the First had stood, brow furrowed as though in concentration. Xander looked from one woman to the other, eyes wide, appearing very much to be on the verge of panic. Potentials had begun to wander into the room. Some looked around, confused and nervous, while others whispered among themselves. Willow's mask of anger fell apart, and she turned to her friends, her eyes once again green, and filled with urgency.

"We need to tell Dawn."

Dawn was sitting in front of Sunnydale High, having lunch with her friends on the lawn, when she saw Giles coming up the walk to the school. She excused herself from her group, and ran to meet him.

"Hey Giles!"

"Oh!" He turned to the girl, surprised. "Dawn, hello."

"Come to see Buffy? Or to relive your librarian days?"

"As tempting as that may be, I'm afraid not." His expression became serious. "I've come to talk to you, actually."

"Is something wrong?" Dawn asked, suddenly worried.

"That remains to be seen." Giles began walking across the lawn away from the school, indicating that Dawn should follow him. "It's about Buffy. Her recent behaviour has given me cause to worry."

"Is she alright?"

"I'm more worried about you."

Dawn furrowed her brow in a mixture of concern and puzzlement, as Giles stopped and turned to face her.

"Dawn, you will likely find this disturbing, but I feel I must tell you –"

"I can take it," she asserted surely.

Giles nodded. "Very well." Dawn steeled herself. "After Glory had captured you, I tried to make Buffy understand that, if worse came to worst, she may have had to kill you in order to prevent the barriers between dimensions from breaking down." Giles spoke matter-of-factly, a cold edge to his voice. "I hope you don't take it personally. I should think that if one were forced to choose between saving the world and saving a girl who never existed in the first place, the proper choice would be obvious. Clearly that wasn't the case with Buffy."

The Summers' car pulled up on the road behind Dawn. She didn't notice it, stunned as she was. The First, however, did, and hurried its narrative along.

"However, after speaking with her about that decision last night, I've discovered that Buffy has changed her mind."

"What…?"

The car door opened and Willow leapt out. "Dawn!" she called, but the girl didn't hear her. Her attention was focused on what Giles was saying.

"If she could do it again, she would slit your throat."

Dawn stared at the likeness of Giles, aghast. Willow ran up besides her, took her by the shoulders and pulled her away. The First simply smiled, self-satisfied. Dawn watched, horror-struck, as it disappeared.

The blonde girl sat in the morgue waiting room, hands folded on top of the book on her lap, staring at an undefined spot on the floor.

"Buffy…"

She looked up at the sound of Xander's voice. They were all there: Dawn, Willow, Xander and Anya. Fear and grief mixed on their faces. They looked so very much like children. They waited for some direction on what to do next, searched her shuttered face for some kind of sign; but there was none. There was nothing to say.