Chapter Five

The minute the Scoobies returned to the Summers' home, Dawn ran up the stairs to her room.

"Dawn…" Willow called after her.

"Let her go," Buffy said as she set the book she was carrying down on the front hall table. "We have things to talk about anyways."

The group headed into the kitchen, away from the mass of Potentials that were sleeping in the living room.

"I think we should send the body back to England to be buried," Anya said thoughtfully. "I think he'd like that."

"I didn't mean talk about that." Buffy sounded tired and exasperated.

"Too soon, Ahn," Xander said gently.

Willow smiled kindly at Anya. "I think it's a good idea, though."

Anya nodded at Buffy. "You're right. We need some time to cry and reminisce, and talk about how we're all going to miss him."

"No," Buffy replied coldly. "We need to talk about what we're going to do next."

Anya blinked, puzzled. "I don't understand. What's to talk about? We cry and we mourn and we all feel horrible together, like when Joyce died, or when you died. Then we have a funeral and memorial, and then pretend that we've all moved on, when really we haven't –"

"No, we're not," Buffy interrupted, more forcefully this time. "This is different."

"Of course it's different. This time it's Giles." Anya said matter-of-factly.

"No! We don't have the luxury to grieve. We have a war to fight."

The others gawked at Buffy's pronouncement.

"You're not serious." Anya said, stunned and a little hurt. Buffy looked at her, steadily, challenging. Anya gathered herself up. "Fine," she spat. "Fight your war."

The ex-demon stormed out the back door. Buffy turned to address Willow and Xander, but the back door slammed open as Anya returned.

"If you need me, I'll be out back, crying over my dead friend!"

Anya turned as she wiped tears from her eyes, and stalked off again.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Buffy spoke. When she did, she was all business.

"Right. So first thing we need to do is get all the information Giles was using to find the Potentials, and we need the books he had in his room too. The coroner is holding his stuff. I checked, and they aren't releasing it to anyone except for family or someone with some kind of documentation. So Will," Willow started at being addressed directly. "I need you to come up with documentation."

Willow fidgeted. "Um, Buffy… I'm sure that once they get around to his will… he woulda left all the important stuff to us," she said carefully.

"We can't wait that long," Buffy replied. "Besides, we can't afford to make assumptions."

Willow looked at Buffy, stunned, as well as somewhat horrified at the task that had been set for her.

Buffy went on. "Then we need to continue to gather the potentials. Xander," she turned to her other friend, "can you do that?"

The corner of Xander's mouth twitched up in a humourless smile. "Sure, Buff. Always knew you'd want me out of the way the first chance you got."

Buffy sighed. "Don't be immature. It's an important job, someone has to do it, and I need Willow here."

"Oh, I see. You just don't need me."

"Xander, I need you to do this."

"Right, whatever." Xander knew he was being childish, and had already had enough of the argument anyways. "I'll find the supergirls for you. But right now, if you don't need me, I'm going to go have a good mourn." He turned to head out the back door.

"Wait," Buffy took his arm to stop him. "We have to work this out."

"No, you've got stuff to work out." Xander's angry tone quickly calmed to one of quiet disbelief. "I don't know what your problem is, Buffy, but you've really taken the 'human' out of 'superhuman'. The world won't end if we take a night off to grieve." Xander thought about this statement for a second. "Or maybe it will. But not tonight."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Xander cut her off. "Not tonight, Buffy."

And with that he left.

Buffy turned to Willow, whose eyes were by now glistening with tears.

"I-I can't do this right now," Willow managed to stammer out before running up the stairs to her room, leaving Buffy alone.

Xander found Anya sitting on the stoop, looking out at the yard. She looked up briefly when he sat down next to her, and he saw that tears were streaming down her face.

They sat in silence together for only a minute or two before Anya felt compelled to speak.

"I tried to kill him the first time I met him, you know."

"Yeah?" Xander's voice was distant, his thoughts elsewhere.

Anya nodded. "He broke my amulet and made me human."

Xander turned to face her. "I never knew that."

"Neither did he." She was pensive for a moment. "I still don't know whether or not I would thank him for it."

Xander turned his gaze back to the lawn. "Being human sucks," he said plainly.

"He believed so much that this world had to be better." Anya continued along her own train of thought. "I don't know if it is anymore. Sure, you're not some evil bad ass vampire, and there's something to be said for that. But Buffy's still all dark, and people are still dying, and there's still this big looming evil. And in the end, he was still sad and alone. Only, I don't know if he still believed that the world could be better."

"He had to," Xander replied without consideration. "That's why we do this. Why we fight."

"Then why did he give up?" Anya asked tentatively, her voice full of doubt.

"He didn't. He couldn't help it."

"How do you know?"

"Giles would never give up as long as Buffy needed him," Xander said with conviction, though he was becoming agitated.

Anya's brow creased. "What if he thought she didn't though? It would be easy to believe, the way she's been acting."

Xander turned towards her angrily. "Anya! Just –" He was cut short when Anya started weeping. His expression softened and he placed an arm around his erstwhile girlfriend's shoulders and sighed. "I'm sorry."

Anya shook her head. "He's never going to yell at me like that again," she said between sobs. "Or glare at me when he thinks I've done something inappropriate because he's all stuffy and English. And I won't ever be able to interrupt him when he's in the middle of one of his old books again, or hear him singing to himself when he thinks no one's listening, or see him smile." Xander rubbed her arm in a comforting manner, though his expression had become vacant and distant once again. "A-and that one time he kissed me –"

"What?" Xander's head snapped up. "When was this?"

Anya sniffed as her tears subsided. "When we all forgot who we were, we thought we were engaged. And at the time it was really weird, because he was Giles, but in retrospect it was quite nice, and I wish I had told him that."

"And normally I would be much more wigged by this information." Xander sighed. "God damn…"

Anya continued as if uninterrupted. "And last year, when he was dying, I thought of all these things I wanted to tell him, but never did because I got all distracted when he said you saved the world –"

"He could tell?" Xander turned towards her again, surprised.

Anya shrugged. "It was part of his plan, to dose Willow with magic so you could get through to her."

"Really?"

"He knew you would do it."

Xander looked out at the lawn, thoughtful. "Huh."

"Kind of a stupid plan, if you ask me. I told him that."

Willow sat on her bed in the dimly lit master bedroom, hugging her knees and crying quietly. There was a soft knock on the door, and Willow turned to see Dawn slip in. Her cheeks were wet, but there were no fresh tears.

"Can I come in?"

Willow nodded, and Dawn climbed onto the bed next to her. The two girls hugged.

"Buffy's not talking," Dawn told her.

"This'll be hardest on her," Willow replied, unable to disguise the doubt in her voice.

"I guess." Dawn stared at the pattern on the bedspread. "It's not fair. We cared about him too."

"But he was her Watcher."

"I know," Dawn said, grudgingly. She thought for a moment before saying, "I used to hate him for that. I used to think it was like, Buffy had this extra family that didn't include me."

"Oh, Dawnie…" Willow placed a comforting hand on the younger girl's shoulder.

Dawn continued as though Willow wasn't there. "And I guess it really didn't, 'cause I didn't actually exist at the time."

"You know he cared about you too."

"I know," Dawn answered lightly. "About all of us. But Buffy was his Slayer." Dawn smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Willow studied her with concern. Dawn's face soon became more pensive. "Do you think he's where Buffy went, when she died?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

"He'd come back for us, wouldn't he? Or even just for Buffy?"

"Dawn…" Willow began, with a mixture of surprise, fear, and worry over what the girl might be planning.

"Or, is there a spell you could do so that he wouldn't have to leave, but we could still talk to him?"

"What is it?" Willow demanded softly.

Dawn cast her eyes down. "I just wish I could talk to him one more time. E-especially about something the First said."

"Dawn, you know all it does is lie," Willow said soothingly.

Dawn looked up, questioningly. "Does it?"

Willow didn't answer, wondering herself.

"I'd just like to talk to him again," Dawn continued.

"I know. But he wouldn't want me to even try."

Dawn nodded and the two girls sat in silence for a while, huddled together on the bed, each immersed in her own thoughts.

"Willow?"

"Hm?"

"How far do you think he would have gone?" Dawn asked, in a distant tone that suggested her thoughts were still elsewhere. "To protect Buffy? Like, if it was one of us who threatened her?"

"I think we know."

Dawn glanced up, puzzled, before she realized that she had been so wrapped up in her thoughts on the battle with Glory that she had forgotten all about what happened with Willow the year before. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

"He would have sacrificed himself," Willow continued. "And… maybe he did…"

Dawn regarded her friend with sympathy. "Don't feel guilty. He wouldn't want you to."

"Maybe he would," Willow speculated, tears welling up in her eyes. "Keep me from doing anything stupid and evil again."

"He didn't have to come back, you know," Dawn said in a comforting tone. "One of the witches could have come for you instead. He did it because he cared about you."

Willow glanced up at the girl with a teary half-smile. "That just makes it worse."

Buffy had gone up to her room and was sitting on the floor by her bed. She stared into space, trying to think of practical things, trying to think of how angry Giles had made her, trying to think of nothing at all.

She wasn't surprised when she heard his voice.

"I know what you're thinking," his voice came from the doorway, gentle, comforting. Buffy revealed no sign of having heard him. "If we hadn't fought, if you hadn't shut me out last night, you would have been able to help me in time. I would still be alive." He approached her slowly. "And of course it's completely possible that the fight itself caused the heart attack"

He was next to her now, but still Buffy didn't turn in his direction.

"You're thinking that you killed me last night." She shut her eyes; herface remained blank and expressionless.

"But you must remember that I've been having health problems for a while. Ever since Angel tortured me, as a matter of fact. Then, being speared through the side by a Byzantine knight didn't do me any favours. Nor did my confrontation with Willow last year, for that matter.

"I hope you don't blame her, by the way," he added lightly. "After all, the entire episode wouldn't have taken place had Warren been dealt with in a more timely manner." He let that statement hang in the air for a moment before continuing.

"At any rate, I suspect all the battering would not have had such an adverse effect if it hadn't been for the constant stress. I don't believe I ever told you; I developed something like insomnia that summer you ran away. I never did get over it entirely. Oh, it was cured by a good scotch or brandy – or, several, rather – although I can't imagine that much alcohol was very good for the heart either. Perhaps if I had taken some time to relax with some friends, the effects would have been milder, but of course I left them all in England when I came here for you. Or maybe if I had a girlfriend, but… well, you know what happened with that," he said ruefully.

When he spoke again, his voice was gentle and sincere. "Anyways, my point is simply that it is ridiculous for you to blame my death on that fight. You didn't kill me last night, Buffy.

"You've been killing me for much longer than that."

Buffy opened her eyes and turned to where the voice had been coming from.

No one was there.