Author's Note: Here's a holiday prezzie – a bonus chapter. I might not have a chance to post tomorrow so I thought I should send this sooner rather than later and it's been too long since we checked in on Giles, oui? Cheers!

Thursday March 22nd, 2007 ~ Waiting Room ~ Project Quantum Leap Compound ~ Stallion's Gate, New Mexico

Giles lifted his eyes from the paper he had been reading and considered the figure of Al Calavicci carefully. The other man appeared to be absorbed in studying a series of drawings of a hell dimension but Giles was fairly certain he knew he was under observation.

Two days ago, Al had returned from a visit to the past just as Giles had roused from his stupor after fainting and hitting his head. Giles had been in a foul mood; owing to the fact that, without a vampire or demon in sight, he had still managed to rack up another head injury. Not even the realization that it hadn't actually been his head that had been damaged could improve Giles' humor.

Al seemed inordinately pleased that Giles was upset and cheerfully agreed to his demand that the 'serious computer power' Al had alluded to in an earlier conversation be turned toward producing as much information about Glory as possible.

Since then there had been some startling changes in what Giles continued to consider his cell. Two large tables had been brought in to accommodate the reams of computer printouts that a variety of people carried into the room from time to time. Giles had read everything they had brought him. Most of it duplicated information he had already discovered while researching Glory before he had been brought here. The remainder was vague enough that it might just as easily be attributable to another being from a different hell.

From what Al had told him, his friends were faring no better. They had just begun another round with the same material, hoping to glean something in their third attempt that no one had noticed the first two times they had reviewed it.

Giles dropped the paper he had been holding and lifted a few other pages from the table. He wasn't really interested in these, either. He was interested in what he was convinced Al was keeping from him.

In the last two days, every time he had tried to talk to Al about the manner of his death, Buffy's death or what might have happened to his other friends, Al had managed to avoid answering any of his questions.

The first time, Al had deflected him with a question he said Sam needed answered. He asked Giles how he managed to get enough to eat with a crowd of what seemed to be human-shaped locusts around. When he told Al that treachery and guile had always served him well, Al had rushed off saying, 'Not Sam's strong point, but I'll tell him.'

When the next opportunity to introduce the topic arose, Al had sidetracked him with an unending slew of questions about Anya's sexual proclivities and history. The interrogation became so distasteful and absurd that Giles had finally sputtered out that Anya seemed to have no compunction about discussing such things and that Al might be better off going directly to the source. Al had been out the door before Giles realized he had been duped again.

Giles prepared himself carefully for his next attempt, coaching himself mentally to stay on topic. "Al, while this information about Glory is helpful I believe we are neglecting what is potentially a more valuable source of information," he began. "Anything you can tell me about Buffy's death, or mine, or any harm that may have come to our friends might yield important clues about our conflict with Glory," Giles said in as calm and reasonable a tone as he could muster. He was encouraged by the fact that Al didn't respond right away, suggesting he wasn't prepared with a gambit to distract him.

"I told you Buffy's death certificate just said she died as a result of injuries sustained in a fall. Nothing else we've discovered has been any more helpful than that," Al replied.

Giles was gratified that the other man hadn't even attempted to change the subject. "That's not particularly clear, Al. A fall? A fall from what? A tumble down the stairs wouldn't be enough to slow down a Slayer, much less, uh, kill her." Giles winced inwardly at the difficulty he still had even mentioning Buffy's death. If he were to help avert the tragedy he had to find a way to think of it in a more abstract, dispassionate way.

Al seemed to be struggling for something to say and Giles steeled himself to meet what was sure to be an effort to steer him away from this line of inquiry. When he thought about it later, he realized there was no way he could have anticipated what came next.

"C'mon, Giles," Al tried weakly. "I really think focusing on Glory is the best way to solve this and get you back to your sweetie."

"My... I beg your pardon?" Giles inquired, uneasily.

Al straightened and smiled. "Well, Sam is filling in for you as best he can but I'm sure Buffy would rather be kissing the real article, right?"

"K... kissing?" Giles stuttered.

"Well, yeah. Sam's got to keep up the pretense that he's you. Buffy would get suspicious, as well as downright crabby, if Sam didn't come across with the lovin' as necessary," Al explained.

"L... lo..." Giles cleared his throat and tried again but couldn't seem to produce as much as an entire word, let alone a sentence.

"Don't worry," Al advised him. "Sam's a perfect gentleman. I'm sure it hasn't gone beyond, you know, a PG13 rating." Al paused for moment, a thoughtful look on his face. He looked back at Giles and nodded. "Yeah, he would have told me if they'd done anything else. And, hey, it's not like Buffy is cheating on you or anything. She thinks Sam is you," Al concluded. "Speaking of Sam, I should probably go see how things are going back there. See you later."

Giles blinked stupidly, watching in stunned disbelief as Al scurried from the room. "Lovin'?" he whispered.

It took him quite some time to recover his composure, during which images of what Al had hinted at rose to confound him. He finally allowed himself to accept the possibility that, if they could find a way to save her, he might have a chance to explore the way his feelings about Buffy had changed; something he had only recently acknowledged to himself. Once he had made peace with himself, he found he could concentrate again. He had been determined to discover Al's secret at the next opportunity and now he was prepared to engage his opponent.

"Al..." Giles said. Apparently, he had been correct in his assumption that Al knew he was under observation because the admiral jumped in peremptorily.

"Just a sec, Giles; I've been meaning to ask you. How do you manage to keep that group of hotties hanging around?" Al asked, pulling a cigar from his inside breast pocket.

Giles ground his teeth in mock frustration, hoping to convince Al his stratagem was working. By the smug little grin he could see tugging at the corner of Al's mouth, Giles suspected the other man was counting on Giles' background, upbringing and British reserve to send him into a fit of embarrassed propriety, distracting him from his goal. It was time to turn the tables.

"I service them on a regular basis," Giles replied, in a calm, offhand manner.

Al glanced up sharply into the face of the taller man, who was, in turn, regarding him with a mild, unruffled gaze. "You... you..."

"Have it off with them," Giles confirmed.

Al's dumbfounded expression and continued silence filled Giles with perverse satisfaction so he went on.

"Oh, sorry, perhaps you're not familiar with that expression," Giles apologized, in a polite and cultured tone. "Fuck?" he tried, with the look of a sincere innocent who was doing his all in an attempt to communicate with a foreigner.

Al gulped, his unlit cigar dangling, forgotten, between his fingers. "Them?" he managed in a voice that crossed from one octave to another in a single syllable.

Giles nodded. "All of them. Well, not all at once, mind," he confided. "It's important for each of them to feel special; experience the sort of personal attention which fosters a firm attachment." He clapped Al on the shoulder and gave him a friendly smile, as one mate to another. "You know what I mean, eh?" he said with a wink and a nudge before seating himself, leaning his weight on one hand and crossing his legs casually. "I must say it's been a challenge to stay on top of my form, particularly since Buffy, Willow and Xander have brought others into the fold," he expounded. "But how could I object? Anya. Tara. They're both such lovely, charming girls; don't you agree?" he inquired with all the aplomb of a man commenting on a fair turn in the weather.

"Uh, yeah. They're, uh, swell," Al stammered, seemingly mesmerized by Giles' gentle smile. "All of them?" he echoed. "Seriously?"

"Of course not, you git!" Giles snapped, rising to his feet. "Do you honestly think I can't recognize a diversionary tactic?"

"You sneaky, sarcastic son-of-a-bitch," Al shot back, with a tinge of admiration, rather than censure, in his voice.

"So I've been told," Giles retorted. "Now, will you tell me what you have been so obviously trying to keep from me?"

Al considered the angry man for a moment while weighing his options. He had come to identify more and more with Giles as their acquaintanceship had progressed and Al suspected that, like himself, Giles would prefer to know even bad news rather than be kept in the dark by someone he hoped he could trust. The fact that they had discovered little, if anything, of value over the past two days tipped the scales over in Al's mind. "Okay," Al began slowly. "I didn't want to tell you and didn't really see the need since the plan is to save Buffy."

"But?" Giles snapped impatiently.

"You, uh," Al said, watching Giles carefully to gauge his reaction. "You didn't die with Buffy."

Giles went very still and quiet. He closed his eyes and reached up with one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Al was just beginning to think he should leave and allow the man some privacy with his grief when Giles dropped his hand away from his face, opened his eyes and captured Al's gaze. "You're sure Buffy died and I survived?" Giles asked in a composed, serious tone.

Al nodded. "Ziggy has records of you traveling all over the world. You stayed in America for a while after, you know; then back and forth to London a couple of times. After that, you're all over the place. We're not sure where you live, exactly. You don't seem to stay anywhere for very long." Al trailed off as Giles seemed to lose interest.

"Why didn't you tell me right away?" Giles inquired.

Al met his eyes steadily. "I was pretty sure I knew how badly you would take it at the time."

"Under other circumstances I might have reacted very badly indeed," Giles admitted. "However, in this case there may be mitigating circumstances that make this information a cause for hope rather than gloom," he added.

"Really?" Al said, brightening.

"Yes. I believe there may exist a very detailed account of everything that transpired on the day Buffy died," Giles informed him. "All you need to do is find it."

End Part 13