All right, here ya'll go. I had to get another chapter of the other story up, and now here's this one. I'm leaving for camp in the morning, and that'll be a week long, but I promise to write in a notebook at least, so I have something to get typed up immediately when I get home. :) Anyway, this chapter is nice and long, and I hope ya'll like it. Please do review so I know you're still out there and not too mad at me for the wait last time...lol. Ya'll have a great week. Thanks so much for reading!

Chapter 4

May 1999

The storage unit was climate controlled—at Giles's insistence, to protect the books—and it wasn't uncomfortable to sit around in all day but for the fact that there wasn't much room to breathe. They brought lawn chairs and doughnuts and someone usually went for pizza or Chinese at lunch, but that was where the Scooby Gang all but lived for almost a week and a half. They started on one side of the room and worked their way across, searching through any book that offered any chance at all of having a possible answer to their problem.

For days, nothing did. For days after that, still nothing. It had been nine days since they'd begun, and they were down to the last few books that held any promise. Hope was waning, but Buffy refused to give it up.

Willow slammed her book shut in frustration. "There's nothing here!"

"Calm down, Will; there's a few more over there." She pointed to the small stack by the wall that was the end of the line.

"No there aren't. I went through those while you went to get lunch earlier," she answered miserably.

Buffy looked up and blinked at her, and then looked at the stack of books. Sure enough, it was the same stack of books but they were in a different order now. "Then why didn't you move them?"

Willow winced a little. "I didn't want to move them." She set down the book she'd just finished perusing, and Buffy looked down and realized she only had a few pages left in hers. It was all a bunch of bull about how horrible one demon dimension or the other was, and it was useless. She looked hopefully to Xander, Oz, and Giles, but they were shaking their heads. They were done, too.

"There's nothing here," Willow repeated quietly, reluctantly.

Buffy swallowed. "S-so? These aren't all the books in the world."

"She has a point," Oz agreed.

"I have called everyone I know who is still speaking to me that might have known where an answer could be found. None of them had anything to offer," Giles said quietly. "I believe it's clear now that there is nothing to find. As I've told you all, this is simply not what magic is meant for."

"Not the kind of magic we're looking into…" Buffy ventured.

"No. Under no circumstances—"

"I know."

She let out a breath, and saw Xander looking back and forth between them helplessly. "So that's it?" he asked, obviously not wanting to hear the answer.

Giles nodded slowly and stood from his chair. "I'm afraid so. Of course it was worth looking, but I expected as much."

She knew he was talking like that on purpose, close to all business, so he wouldn't be thinking too much. He was trying to stay in control, but she could already tell he was shaken. Buffy realized, suddenly, that no matter what he'd said before he'd really hoped, too, that they could find a way to fix this. Now it was looking pretty certain that they wouldn't.

No…

Willow pulled herself to her feet, stumbling on the way, and went to hug Giles, already crying again for the first time since that horrible night nine days ago.

None of them had let themselves cry since then, as far as Buffy knew. They'd all hoped.

"No," she repeated weakly, aloud this time. She felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced back at Xander, who hugged her from the side before joining Willow and Giles. Oz went to his girlfriend, and soon Buffy was the only one standing alone.

All of that for nothing? This can't be it…

But it was, wasn't it? Giles was sick, and there was nothing any of them could do about it. She felt as if she should be falling apart, but she only felt numb. Right now Giles looked like he was understanding just what this meant. He suddenly looked so much smaller than someone of his height should be allowed to, and he looked like he almost needed the human contact from the other three Scoobies just to keep him upright, no matter how strong he was trying to be.

Buffy wondered if she was really understanding this yet. Maybe she wasn't.

But she didn't want to. She didn't want it to be real. She wanted to cry because she hadn't really done it, not even the first night, but she couldn't. Or she wouldn't.

If she cried, it would make it all real.
She went to the others because they needed her, and because she couldn't stand to see Giles looking like that and she wanted to be there for him.

But she didn't cry.


It was getting late, and the Scoobies needed to get home. Oz and Willow went together, and Giles took Buffy and Xander. His Slayer was the last to be dropped off, but when he pulled up in front of the Summers home she didn't move at first.

"Buffy?" he asked gently.

She wasn't looking at him. "I promised," was all she said.

His heart clenched, and his throat followed, and his lungs went with them. For a moment it was hard to breathe, and he didn't know if it had anything to do with the fact that he was sick or not. "I know you meant well, but I never planned to hold you to that. I knew it was more than likely that we would find nothing. I was prepared for that." He hesitated. "Or I thought I was," he added more quietly.

But it was hitting him all over again.

Buffy looked over her shoulder, not quite at him. "Giles, you're barely forty-five years old. This isn't supposed to happen," she choked out.

That didn't help, but he knew she didn't mean it that way. She was only trying to process this for herself, and he knew, too, that that wasn't something he could do for her. "I know."

"Are you scared?" There was concern behind the question, but as much as he didn't want to worry her any more than she already was, he still couldn't bring himself to fib to her.

"Yes," Giles admitted, a bit more unevenly than he'd planned.

She made a choking sound in the back of her throat, not exactly a sob, and twisted to wrap her arms around him for a long moment. He returned the embrace, but was surprised at how suddenly she pulled back to end it.

"I have to go," she said quickly. "I-I'll be over in the morning."


Rupert watched her go, and tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. He had only cried once, a few days after the diagnosis, when he'd done it alone, in his office at the school, one afternoon after Buffy and the other Scoobies had left. He'd realized that all of this meant he would likely have to leave them, and for a minute or two he'd cried quietly to himself. Since then he'd held it together, and despite what he'd told the children that first night he'd convinced himself that there was hope.

Now there wasn't, and swallowing wasn't helping tonight.

Now as he pulled away from Buffy's house, Giles was crying.


Willow couldn't cry anymore. Oz had come in with her, and now sat up against the head of her bed while she lay against his chest, shivering through the aftershocks of all the sobbing she'd broken into again as soon as they made it to her house and into her room. Her parents weren't here, of course. They were never here.

She dreaded the moment when he would have to get up to go home.

"This isn't right," she whispered. "How can this happen? Giles never did anything to deserve this...he's not supposed to die. H-he's supposed to be here to help Buffy and-and the rest of us.

"I don't know," Oz answered. "As far as I know stuff like this just happens. It's not anybody's fault. I agree that I really hate this but I don't really know what to do after that. I'm sorry..."

She shook her head without looking up at him. "Don't be sorry...I don't know, either." She sobbed dryly and snuggled in closer, and Oz wrapped his arms around her more tightly.

"Do you want me to just stay?" he asked quietly.

Willow nodded weakly. "Please?"

He kissed her forehead. "Okay."


Xander's parents were home, of course, but they barely took notice of him when he passed the living room on the way to his room—not that it would be his room much longer. High school was over and they were, for all practical purposes, kicking him out. They were going to let him live in the basement, but he was going to have to pay rent. To his parents.

God.

But that wasn't what had him angry as he stormed into his room and slammed the door, which of course didn't phase his quarreling parents in the slightest. He stood just inside the closed door, fists clenched, looking for something to pummel.

His backpack from school was still sitting by the door, dropped there after the last day and forgotten about since then. He didn't need any of those things anymore and they were the first to feel his wrath. Xander kicked the bag across the room, crossed to it to pick it up, and ripped it open. Everything spilled onto the floor and he caught what he could and tore at all of it, flinging something away now and then. Finally there was nothing left to destroy and he threw the bag itself out the window. If someone complained about it lying in the yard they could kiss his ass.

He stalked to the window, jerked it shut, and spun to kick at the pile of torn papers and notebooks and broken pencils in the middle of the floor. He missed, kicked the leg of his bed, and hopped backward as he shouted.

"Damnit!"

Xander tried and failed to stay upright, and landed heavily on his backside in the middle of the scattered trash in the floor. He shoved it all away with his hands and his good foot, and pulled the other foot to him to rub at the offended ankle. "Damnit..." he hissed again. He leaned back against the foot of his bed and sat there, not caring enough to get up.

It took a good while to realize he was sobbing and not only out of breath.


Buffy ran inside and shut the front door of the house behind her, leaning back into it once she had it shut. Her chest was heaving and she struggled to calm down. No tears, no tears, no crying...

"Buffy?"

She straightened quickly. "Mom. Hey." She tried to get by with that and head up the stairs, but she'd barely taken a step when Joyce planted herself at the base of the stairwell to prevent that.

"Oh no you don't. I want to know what's going on."

"What do you mean?"

Her mother crossed her arms. "You've been like this for days. You leave early, you come home late, you won't talk to me, and I can tell something's wrong. You look upset. I've been worried about you for more than a week, Buffy."

"I'm fine. It's nothing." It was so much more than just 'not nothing' but the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it. "I just graduated and all; end-of-school blues..."

"Since when is graduating high school a sad thing?"

She shrugged. "What, I can't be more mature than the rest of my generation? They're happy it's over and I know I'm gonna miss it. Is there something wrong with that?" Joyce was studying her closely, and Buffy ducked her head. "Mom, come on. I'm tired; let me upstairs."

"That isn't you either. I knew something was wrong."

The Slayer winced. One little mistake...

"I'm fine," she repeated. Finally she managed to duck past her mother and head up. "I just want to sleep, okay?"

"Buffy Summers, you come back here right now!"

She stopped halfway up the steps, fists clenching, but she didn't turn around. "Mom, please! Leave it alone! It's nothing..."

"It isn't nothing when it makes me worry about you! I did what you asked; I left town for graduation and from what I've heard I should be glad I did, but if you want me to trust you you have to stop keeping things from me! Now what on earth has you so off balance?"

"Giles is dying!" Buffy spun around to look at her mother, and as Joyce stared back at her in shock the first tear fell.

There. She'd said it. She'd hardly even dared to think it before, and now she'd said it.

"He's sick. He has cancer."

"Oh my god. Buffy..."

But she went on, her voice quavering more by the moment as the pent-up tears streamed silently down her cheeks. "And I can't fix it. I can't help him; none of us can. We looked everywhere. I don't know what to do anymore...I've never felt so helpless in my life. I can't stop it. I-I...we're going to lose him, and I'm scared." She sobbed more than once. "Mom, I'm so scared."

She could barely see anymore for the tears, and really only heard Joyce as she hurried up the few steps to her daughter and pulled Buffy into her arms. It wasn't long before Buffy's knees buckled, and she sank to the steps under her and her mother came down with her, holding her. She cried there, cried brokenly, and she didn't know when she would ever be able to stop.

This was real.


January 2000

Buffy went home, because she didn't know where else to go—and because she suddenly had a burning desire to see her mother. The part of her that was now the Buffy of a now-ruined future hadn't seen her in weeks, because in that future Joyce Summers was gone.

That was what had started this whole mess.

"Mom?" She called out as soon as she was inside. The car was in the driveway; her mother should be here. But there was no answer. "Mom?" Buffy's gaze lingered on the stairs for a moment, bringing back memories she didn't want before she moved on into the house. "Mom!"

She glanced into the dining room, then went back the other way through the living room and ended up in the kitchen. Nothing. She ran upstairs, searched every room, and ran back down in less than a minute, she thought. Still nothing. She stopped in the kitchen again, very near panic.

"Mom!"

The basement door opened and she spun, almost expecting some monster or another to launch itself at her, but it was only her mother.

"Mom, thank god!" She all but tackled Joyce, who dropped what she had in her hands.

"Buffy!" Her daughter held on tightly for a long moment and she returned the embrace, but she was quite obviously more than a little thrown off. "Buffy, what on earth? Are you all right?"

Buffy pulled back and swiped at her eyes to stop the tears that had threatened her there when she'd been afraid she wouldn't find her mother. "I-I'm fine. I'm sorry. I just...with everything..."

Joyce let out a breath and bent to pick up the unopened jar of peanut butter she'd been bringing up from the basement. She set it on the counter and squeezed her daughter's shoulder. "I know, sweetheart. It's all right."

The Slayer blinked furiously, but the tears fell anyway, silently, as she looked at her mother.

"Buffy?" Joyce asked worriedly.

Buffy hugged her again, more gently this time but just as fervently. "Mom...I love you so much," she said quietly. "You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that." Her mother kissed her cheek and stroked her hair. "I love you too. Are you sure you're all right? I know how hard all of this has been on you and your friends; I miss him too..."

"I'm sure. Or...I don't know..." She pulled back again and sank shakily into one of the chairs at the kitchen island. Joyce sat beside her, studying her worriedly.

"Honey, what is it?"

Buffy thought for a long moment, not quite looking at her mother anymore. When she spoke she began slowly. "Mom...if...if you did something you knew was wrong, but no one else knew about it, and there was probably no way they ever would...would you still fix it? Even if what you did kind of made something a little better?"

Joyce looked at her in confusion, but she thought about it. "Well...I don't know exactly what you mean, but I guess I would have to. It would be the right thing to do, and I don't know that I could live with myself if I didn't." She paused. "What is this all about?"

She shook her head and leaned over in her seat to hug her mother again. "Nothing. Just...just remember that I love you, okay?"

"Of course," Joyce answered in bewilderment.

Buffy got up before she could talk herself out of leaving again, because if she stayed any longer she knew she wouldn't want to leave. She would want to stay here, in this house, with her mom, and she would never do what she knew she had to do.

"Buffy?"

She stopped at the kitchen door and turned back, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. Thanks, Mom."

And she left.


May 1999

When there was a knock on Giles's door late that night, well after he'd already dropped off the children, he didn't know who to expect.

He could decidedly say he hadn't expected Joyce Summers.

He blinked. "Joyce."

She swallowed before she spoke. "Mr. Giles. Rupert. I...I uhm..."

"Rupert is fine."

"Right..."

He let out a breath when he realized what was going on. "She told you."

She nodded. "I would have come sooner but I didn't know. She's been so upset for more than a week, but she wouldn't talk to me. Tonight she just...I-I don't know if I ever would have been able to calm her down. She just fell asleep. I was glad I'd already gotten her to the couch; I certainly can't carry her anymore." She winced and looked away for a moment. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to worry you. She's fine now. I just...I know it's late, but I had to come..."

Giles nodded and stepped back from the door. "Please, come in."

She did, tentatively, and he shut the door. Much of any talking they'd done since the band candy incident had been done over the phone, and for a long moment they stood in awkward silence.

"You didn't have to come," he said finally. "I...must admit that I am glad you did, but if this is uncomfortable for you..."

"I'm all right."

He nodded in understanding. "I uhm..." Rupert searched helplessly for something else to say, and his gaze fell on the kettle on the stove. "I put on some tea, actually. It should be done in a moment, if you would like some."

Joyce hesitated, her hands twisting in front of her. "I don't know. I didn't mean to bother you. I just wanted to let you know that if there's anything I can do..."

He gave her a small smile. "Thank you. I appreciate it, but I...don't want to be a burden..."

"Oh god, please. You could never be that. I know I was angry when Buffy ran away, and I know what I said, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Really you've done so much for her, and I'm grateful. I am. I-I wouldn't have wanted this any more than she does." Joyce looked at the floor, but as she looked up again she moved in closer, and she hugged him. "I'm so sorry."

The tea kettle whistled in the kitchen, and she released him at the same moment he let go of her.

"Right. That's—"

"The tea," he finished, nodding quickly. He moved a little too quickly heading to the kitchen and had to stop for a moment. One hand went to his stomach as the other grabbed the couch. Though it wasn't so much the pain on the inside as it was the healing bruises, it hurt, and Joyce jumped forward to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"Rupert? Are you all right?" She paused. "That seems like a ridiculous question..."

He shook his head and straight. "It isn't. Really. I'm fine. Or...well, I suppose you know what I mean."

She nodded a little, and her hand dropped from his shoulder. Her eyes went to the hand he suddenly realized he still had at his middle. "Is uhm...is that where it is? Buffy didn't get far enough to tell me..."

Giles nodded back, and shortly explained the rest.

"Oh god. No wonder she's so upset. She's right; there's nothing she can do, is there? Not even as the Slayer."

"No," he said quietly. "There isn't." He swallowed hard and went into the kitchen to get the tea. Joyce didn't follow him, and he took the moment or two alone to worry silently about his Slayer. He hoped she did come here tomorrow as she'd said she would; he wanted to know she was all right.

When Rupert came back out into the living room with the tea Joyce was still standing uncertainly behind the couch, and he quickly invited her to come around and sit. She did, and he took the other end, setting the tray on the coffee table.

"Is there any way I can help?" Buffy's mother asked suddenly. "Anything at all?"

He started to shake his head, but then paused. "I don't believe so, but there is something I have been meaning to ask you—Willow and Xander and Oz's parents as well, though I'm not sure how to go about speaking with them."

"What do you mean? What is it?"


When Buffy woke the next morning she was on the couch, and slowly she remembered what had happened the night before. For a while she couldn't get up, paralyzed by reality.

Eventually she made it her feet and showered and dressed. She remembered what she'd told Giles before she got out of the car last night, and when she had asserted that her mother wasn't in the house—she must have left for the gallery already—Buffy headed toward her Watcher's apartment.

It took a little longer than usual for Giles to open the door when she knocked, and she nearly started to worry.

Then she saw it had only been because he had company. "Mom?"

Joyce stood from where she was seated on the couch. "Buffy." She looked at her watch. "Oh my god; is it morning already?"

"It's nine in the morning. What...?" She looked at Giles questioningly, but was blindsided by her mother when the elder Summers came around the couch to pull her daughter into her arms.

"Honey, are you all right? I was so worried about you last night."

Buffy swallowed. "I'm fine." She looked at them both. "What's going on?" she asked warily.

"We were talking," Joyce answered. "I came over here after you fell asleep last night. I meant to come right back, but I guess we lost track of time." She looked at Giles. "I'm sorry, Rupert; I probably shouldn't have kept you up."

"It's all right. You're at no more fault than I am, I'm afraid," he answered kindly.

She smiled back a little. "I should go. I wouldn't fire myself if I didn't show up for work today, but I should get a little sleep so I can go in later. We got a new shipment in last week and it still needs some unpacking."

"Of course. As I said, I appreciated the company..."

Buffy stared in confusion at her mother and her Watcher as they said goodbye. Joyce acted like she really wanted to hug him or something, but settled for giving his arm a squeeze on the way out when Giles opened the door again for her. When she was gone he closed it, and Buffy crossed her arms and eyed him.

"Explain?"

He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "You mother explained it quite accurately, actually. She came last night, I offered her tea, we talked...we've been there on the couch. We really did simply lose track of time." He yawned, and she realized now that he looked a little pale.

"You should have slept," she said gently. "You and Mom being all buddy-buddy I guess I can deal with, but I need you to take care of yourself."

"I'm fine, Buffy," he said patiently. He looked at her in concern. "Are you all right?"

She grimaced. "I guess you heard about last night, huh?" He didn't answer. "Figures." Her voice dropped. "I'm fine."

Giles took an arm and led her to the couch to sit down. "I don't believe you are."

Buffy sat silently for a moment, wondering how to answer that. "I'm scared, too," she said finally.

"I understand."

"Do you? You're...you're not on my side of this. I mean...god, obviously you're scared. I would be scared...but..." She trailed off, blinked back tears. "Giles, what am I supposed to do without you?"

She saw him take an unsteady breath. "Buffy, this isn't over, by any means. I will be here as long as I can. You know much of what you need to know, and there is still time to teach you—"

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

He looked at her for a long time, processing that, hopefully remembering what she'd told him that first night, and his head ducked. "Yes, I...I-I suppose I know that. I'm sorry, Buffy. I despise this...this situation. You know that."

"I know..." she whispered. They sat in silence for a while longer, until she spoke up again. "We're not gonna make it if we keep sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves, are we?" She stood up quickly and swiped at her eyes to be sure the tears were gone. "How are you feeling? If we're going to train we should train, if you're up to it."

"Of course," Giles agreed. "In a moment. I have something I want to ask you."

She looked down at him in confusion, wondering what on earth could be next. She wondered if she really wanted to know at all. "What?" she asked warily.

"It's all right, Buffy; please, sit down."

She did, slowly, and faced him again. "What is it?"

"It's uhm...it's something I discussed with your mother last night. She didn't seem adverse to the idea, and I thought I would see what you thought of it before I mentioned it to the others."

Now she was confused. "What are you talking about?"

Giles fell quiet for a moment. "I...well, I want...I need to go back to England, Buffy..." He trailed off, and she had to swallowed compulsively when she realized what he meant. One more time.

"R-right," she stammered, looking to her shoes.

"Not for long—a couple of weeks, perhaps, but...it is summer, and...I thought that you and others might like to accompany me."

Buffy looked up quickly. "Go with you? To England?"

"You and Willow and Xander and Oz—and your mother, possibly. She's said she isn't sure whether she could get away from her work for that long a period of time."

She wanted to, but there was definitely the issue of funding. "I don't know...I-I mean that would be great I guess, but—"

"I plan to take care of it," Giles added quickly. "I don't want to put any financial pressure on any of you. You needn't worry about it; after pulling two salaries for more than two years and living as I do it won't be any hardship. I uhm...I must to admit to being a bit selfish, really. I would like to show you my home, all of you, but the idea originated from a desire not to leave the lot of you behind if I went," he said, smiling sheepishly. Or trying to.

Buffy was blinking again. He meant he didn't want to lose any time with them, and she understood that. She felt the same way. "Giles..." She went up on a knee on the couch to get closer so she could hug him more easily. When he returned the embrace she suddenly felt safe, no matter what was happening, and she realized he'd always given her that feeling—safety, security.

She bit back a sob. "I think it's a great idea."


January 2000

Buffy went back to the cemetery, willingly this time, if a little hesitantly. She knelt beside the stone, but she couldn't bring herself to touch it. She felt as if she did that, it would make it permanent.

"Giles, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'll fix it. I promise. I'll find a way."

She felt a shadow pass over her, and she didn't have to look up to know who it was.

"Good god, it's really here," Ethan said from behind her. "I have to admit I didn't really believe you until now."

"It shouldn't be here," she answered. She got to her feet and faced him. He was staring at her in confusion.

"What?"

She didn't answer him right away. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you're still here."

He blinked. "And why is that?"

"I'm going to need your help."