Thursday, April 26th, 2001 ~ Rupert Giles' apartment ~ Sunnydale, California

His first awareness, as he began to regain consciousness, was of a burning sensation in his throat. As he took a deep breath, a constricting band of pain around his rib cage asserted itself, along with a deep ache in the center of his torso just over his diaphragm. He heard a woman's voice, fraught with anxiety, speaking to him from very close range.

"Okay, breathing on your own; that's good, Giles, but please open your eyes."

She sounded so distraught that Sam struggled to do just that in order to reassure her. It wasn't easy, but he managed to pry them open a crack. A blurry face, surrounded by a hazy cloud of blonde hair, was mere inches from his face. She was so close he felt the rush of her breath as she exhaled mightily.

"Oh, Giles! Thank God," she said, leaning back a little.

Sam moved slightly as he took his next breath, trying to ease the pain in his ribs. The woman, Buffy he now recalled, placed a gentle but restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Stay there for a minute, Giles," Buffy admonished him. "Maybe I should call an ambulance."

"Yeah Sam, stay put. She might be right."

Sam shifted his gaze to see Al's craggy face, creased with a combination of relief and concern, hovering over him.

"I..." Sam paused to try and clear his throat. The attempt sent another flare of agony through his windpipe but something shifted and he felt the pain subside. "I think I'm all right," he managed to say. This time when he tried to sit up, Buffy helped him as he gained his feet, guided him over to the couch and supported him as he settled into a seated position. Buffy scrutinized his face, brushing his hair back off his forehead.

"Sure you're okay?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes," Sam assured her in a somewhat stronger voice. "Thank you."

Buffy smiled then frowned as she turned to look at the food on the coffee table. She picked up Sam's plate and glared at the sandwich. "Probably cursed or something. I just love living on the Hellmouth." She dropped his plate on top of hers, gathered the silverware and napkins and turned toward the kitchen. "Just let me get these things cleared away and we'll head back to the shop."

Sam glumly watched another meal, which had been oh-so-briefly his, disappear. He turned to see Al had moved over next to him and was slapping his hand-link, which was warbling a high-pitched scream, into silence. Al looked at him in apology.

"Sorry, pal. Wow, it's a good thing Buffy knows the Heimlich maneuver. You should have seen how far that chunk of food went flying! She's really good in a crisis," Al beamed, nodding with approval.

"Too bad there needed to be a crisis," Sam hissed, hoping the sound of running water in the kitchen would keep Buffy from hearing him. He wrapped one arm around his ribs, which ached something fierce, as he bent over to retrieve Giles' glasses from the floor.

"I told you it was something kind of shocking," Al said, defensively. "You couldn't wait a few seconds to try and swallow?" Before Sam could reply, Al's head lifted up toward the ceiling. "My hand-link isn't malfunctioning!" he snapped. "Sam had a little accident and all that caterwauling was distracting me." He listened for a moment. "All right, Gushie, calm down. I'm listening."

He moved away and Sam took the opportunity, with Buffy and Al momentarily distracted, to take a quick physical inventory. The pain in his ribs and diaphragm were likely the result of Buffy's application of the emergency first aid procedure and Sam didn't think anything was broken, displaced or ruptured. He picked up the glass of water that Buffy had left on the coffee table and drank half of it down, which eased the majority of the irritation that remained in his throat.

Buffy and Al returned at the same time. Buffy picked up the water glasses and sent a meaningful look Sam's way.

"Giles..." she began, in warning.

"I'm fine, Buffy. Don't fuss," Sam said grumpily.

Buffy smiled and nodded. "That's my Giles. So he had a brush with death; no need to hover," she mocked him saucily before returning to the kitchen.

Al chuckled and then laughed out loud when Sam glared at him. "She really likes you. Giles. Whatever," Al observed.

"What did Gushie want?" Sam whispered, hoping to derail the possibility of Al launching into one of his lectures on what constituted his ideal of a close relationship.

"You know how we've wondered what would happen if you or your host died while you were Leaping?" Al asked, his expression becoming serious again.

Sam nodded.

"Well, let's just agree we don't need further experimentation. When you lost consciousness, Giles passed out cold. He cracked his... well, your head on the edge of the table as he went down."

"Al! Is he..."

At Sam's stifled outcry, Al waved a placating hand and glanced nervously at the kitchen. The sound of the garbage disposal had been added to the running water and, apparently, Buffy had not been alerted to the conversation in the next room.

"He's gonna be okay," Al continued, easing Sam's mind. "Verbena says it's a mild concussion, at most. He's resting now. The poor guy's exhausted."

"Did you tell him about...?" Sam tilted his head in an eloquent motion toward Buffy, who had just re-entered the room.

"Yeah," Al admitted. "And he took it worse than you did; which, I suppose, was to be expected."

"Ready to go?" Buffy asked Sam.

Sam rose on his own, gently refusing Buffy's attempt to assist him. His one concession to his slightly dented condition was allowing Buffy to carry the bag he had packed out to the car.

When they arrived at the shop, Buffy announced her intention to train; firmly insisting that 'Giles' do nothing more strenuous than read. Since Anya was busy with several customers, Sam sat down at the table and motioned to Al to join him. Al pulled up a chair in the Imaging Room and sat down. He told Sam about Giles' reaction to the news that Buffy was about to die, his conclusion that they had, at least, thwarted Glory's plans and probably either killed or banished her and his belief that he had died along with Buffy in the battle.

Sam was taken aback at this news. "Did you tell him he survived?"

"No, I didn't tell him," Al replied. "He was already busted up enough about what happened to her. I didn't see the point in twisting the knife by telling him he's still alive."

Sam puzzled over this for a few moments. "But, him being alive; that's a good thing, right?"

The only response Al gave him was a deep sigh. Sam watched patiently as Al stared at something non-existent a few yards away from the table. He had seen Al do this before. It meant he was trying to decide whether to risk sharing something personal. Sam knew from experience how hard that was for his friend so he sat quietly, hoping Al would open up and share what he was thinking. Finally, Al shifted his gaze to Sam's face.

"Sam, how do you think I would feel if you died on one of your Leaps?" Al asked in a soft, somber tone. "Even if I were there when it happened I wouldn't really be there. I wouldn't be able to help you or stop it; and I would live because the danger would be wherever you were, not here."

As he considered Al's question, Sam thought about how he used to think that the older man's dark eyes were mysterious and expressed nothing, other than occasional fits of anger. Sam wondered when that had changed or when he had learned to interpret what he saw there. He knew better than to express, in words, what he saw in Al's eyes now. It was too real, too personal and Al would shy away from it; although he had bravely allowed Sam to see it.

"I'd be glad you were still alive, Al," Sam said.

Al smiled sadly. "I know you would, pal. But I asked you how you thought I would feel."

Sam leaned forward to let Al get a good look at his face. "I think I know," he said.

Al considered his expression closely and then cleared his throat. His voice, when he spoke, was rough. "Yeah, I guess you do," he allowed. "And in addition to being friends, Buffy and Giles are, well, whatever else they are to each other. So I think we're better off concentrating on finding a way to keep Buffy from dying; that way it's a moot point how Giles would react to the knowledge that she died and he didn't."

The rest of the Scoobies arrived shortly thereafter. They shared a meal in which Sam managed to acquire and consume two entire pieces of pizza. Buffy warned them all to be on the lookout for Knights and/or Glory's minions tailing them, admonished them not to talk about Scooby business where they might be overheard and to travel in pairs or larger groups, especially at night.

Before Buffy headed off on patrol, she looked Sam up and down. "Are you sure you're up to babysitting Dawn alone? You could probably talk Xander and Anya into waiting until I get back from patrol before they go home."

Sam was about to reassure her, for the third time, that he was perfectly capable of looking after one young teenager when Anya objected loudly to the suggestion.

"Xander and I need to go home as soon as possible. We are way behind in the number of orgasms we usually share in a week and it is beginning to affect my mood in a very negative way. I was barely able to tolerate the annoying patrons who came to spend money in the shop today and that cannot continue," she insisted. Anya wrapped her arms around one of Xander's. "It will take all evening and possibly much of the night to restore our equilibrium."

Al ogled her openly. "Wow, maybe I should keep an eye on them instead of going back to see how Giles is doing."

Sam was prepared to jump in with a distraction, since Anya could hear him and might forget to pretend she couldn't; but the woman simply beamed at Al, apparently pleased at his interest.

"Giles?" Buffy prompted.

Sam jumped; startled out of his growing dismay at the suggestive looks Al and Anya were giving each other.

"I, uh, I think everyone should go home, as soon as possible," Sam replied, with a pointed look at Al.

"Okay, then," Buffy agreed. "See you after patrol."

Al gave Sam a disgruntled look as the other man climbed into the back seat of Xander's car. "I never get to have any fun," he groused.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Sam turned to see the bright light of the Imaging Chamber door opening and the silhouette of his friend retreating. He sighed in relief. He had been subjected to two brief sexual commentaries by Anya already and he didn't want to contemplate the enhanced experience that would be Anya's and Al's perspectives of whatever Anya had in store for Xander that night.

End Part 12