"Giles?" Buffy felt all the air forcibly leave her lungs and in its place, a gripping panic took hold. Every memory of him was warring with what her eyes were seeing and her instincts were telling her. It couldn't be him. It just couldn't be. Let it be anyone but him.

He stood there; horn-rimmed glasses, tweed suit and all.

"Giles? What...Why did you do this? You have to stop, please," Buffy begged her former Watcher, her voice coming out shriller than she had expected. She could feel tears begin to form in her eyes and she blinked furiously to hold them back. It had been almost three years since his death; it seemed like both yesterday and a lifetime ago. He stepped closer to her, every detail of him just as she remembered, sharper and clearer than any dream she had ever had of him.

"It will be over soon enough, now that the Witnesses have risen," He said in the calm and reassuring way a parent spoke to a child. His cultured voice cut right through her, sending shivers down her spine at the absolute detachment in his manner. This wasn't right. Giles could never do these things. He wouldn't kill and mutilate people like that. Not innocent people. He wouldn't do that to Olivia, to her.

"I don't understand. Why are you here? You're... dead." The last words stuck on her tongue like a spoonful of peanut butter. She hated having to say the words aloud, it suddenly made his death real again, made the pain fresh.

"And whose fault is that, Buffy?" Ghost Giles spoke the words softly, but they stung like a slap to the face. She gasped at his reply but then closed her mouth as the shame hit her. He was right. It was her fault that he was dead. She hadn't been able to save him that day in the cave. She had watched as her vampire ex-lover Angel had snapped his neck.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know." Buffy pleaded, hoping he could see how truly sorry she was. The pain and betrayal Angel had caused was still achingly clear. Time had not been able to dull it yet.

"I loved you like a father would. More than any person in this world." Buffy's heart broke into tiny pieces at his words. "You stood there as he snapped my neck. Just like Jenny's."

"Giles, please, I'm so sorry. If killing Angel would bring you back, I would do it. But it won't." This couldn't be Giles. He wouldn't say these things to her. He knew that she would have died before she willingly would let anything happen to him. That simple thought gave her the courage she needed to shove the pain aside. He was standing very close to her now. In her mind, she could almost smell his aftershave. He raised his hand to her face, as if to brush her hair away.

In the distance, the low rumble of a car could be heard as it echoed through the silence. The sound vaguely familiar to Buffy but she didn't have time to wonder where she had heard it before. She took a step back and stared defiantly into her mentor's eyes. His hand was still raised in the air when she spoke.

"You're not Giles." The words were spoken in barely a whisper, but they reverberated across the room. It was a truth she had to hold onto. If he wasn't Giles, then she would be able to fight him. His eyes flashed with rage and he curled his hand into a fist, crashing it down onto her jaw. The force of the hit caused her to drop to her knees. Buffy's head snapped up and anger flooded through her body. She lashed out with her left leg, sweeping the ghost's corporeal body to the ground. The scythe was still in her hand and she swung it down hard but the spirit disappeared before it could touch him. She stood; he was still close by.

Downstairs, Buffy heard the front door open. "Bobby? Buffy?" Dammit, she knew that voice. Dean Winchester. A cold hand clamped down over her mouth and held her tightly before she could respond. Though she struggled, she couldn't break the hold.

"Have you any idea what it sounds like to hear your own neck break?" The words were spoken directly into her ear, but there was no whisper of breath upon her skin. The hand that had been holding her arms to her side clamped around the back of her neck, fingers digging into her flesh. Repulsion sent shivers down her spine and propelled her into action.

Buffy threw back her head, crashing it into Giles. In any other being there would have been the sickening sounds of breaking bones and cartilage, but not this time. The force of the blow sent the two of them crashing to the floor. She rolled to the left just in time to avoid a vicious hit to the head. Scrambling quickly to her feet, she held the scythe lightly in her hand, waiting for the form of her father figure to appear. The shock of seeing him was gone, replaced instead with a burning anger. Wisps began to form to her right and she swung deftly with her weapon through it, only to swing again as more appeared. She knew this fight was going nowhere. She could hold off the ghost, sure. But she didn't know how to banish them. Bobby did.

A noise to the side drew her attention to the large bookcase laden with ancient volumes. A split second later it came crashing down, narrowly missing her as she jumped out of the way. She wasn't fast enough, though, to avoid the hard kick to the stomach, its force so strong it made her double over and drop the scythe. Fingers wrapped around her neck and squeezed, hard enough that she was unable to pull air into her lungs. Giles' face was red and distorted with rage, so much so that he didn't even look like her former Watcher.

Buffy brought her fists down hard onto the arms of her attacker, wrenching the hands away from her throat. Suddenly from downstairs, the blast of a shot gun rang out. The pseudo Giles looked panicked for a split second before turning back to her and continuing the attack with a particularly hard hit to her jaw, knocking her into the rubble of books from the fallen case. In the blink of an eye he was on her again, choking the air from her body.

"He won't save you," Ghost Giles said savagely. "None of them will. Because you are not

worth saving, are you?" With each harsh word, he squeezed tighter on her windpipe. Buffy clawed at the arms holding her down but still the world around her grew dim as the loss of oxygen made her weaker. Was this really how she was going to die?

The iron chandelier crashed to the floor, banishing the ghost of Meg Masters. Dean knew he had bought some time but not a lot. He ignored the piercing pain in his ribs as he stood up and reloaded the shotgun. Keeping the weapon tucked into his shoulder, he made his way up the stairs.

Sounds could be heard coming from the room Buffy had stayed in. That can't be good. He thought back to what Meg had said, that he wouldn't be able to save her. He felt his insides clench at the thought. He was outside the door now, praying that he wasn't too late. He kicked the door open, ripping off bits of the door frame in the process. What he saw made his blood run cold and his heart freeze. A man was on top of her, choking Buffy, whose body suddenly looked small and lifeless.

"Get the hell off of her!" Dean roared as he emptied both barrels of rock salt into the ghost. He was on the ground next to her only seconds later.

"Buffy? Buffy? Are you ok?" He breathed a sigh of relief when she started taking great gulps of air. Without thinking of what he was doing, he gathered her up in his arms and crushed her to him.

"Dean, you're smothering me," Buffy softly said, her vocal cords raspy from the abuse she had just endured. He quickly let go and pushed her away. He thought she would be upset but there was a soft smile on her lips.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He stood up and reached down to help her. He looked at her closely and took in her injuries. There were a few gashes on her, none of them serious. The skin along her jaw, though, was already darkening from a large bruise. It was large enough that it almost blended together with the bruises along the column of neck.

"You ok there, princess?" He asked her seriously, no venom behind the pet name. Just concern. His hands found their way back to her, tilting her chin up so he could get a good look at the damage.

Buffy could feel the warmth of his hands on her skin as he looked over her injuries. She knew from experience that they would be gone by morning. It wasn't anything she hadn't endured before. She told that to Dean, who just nodded in response.

"Do you know where Bobby is?" Dean asked. She had the wicked-looking axe in her hands again.

"No, he never came in the house after checking Rumsfeld," Buffy replied, concerned. "Do you know what is going on here? I don't understand why Giles and Kendra would..."

Her voice trailed off but the words hung in the air. Try to kill me.

"I'm not sure what the hell is going on. But it's some serious shit." They made it to the bottom of the stairs just as Sam burst through the front door, Bobby thundering behind him.

"Study, now!"

"So, they're all people we know?" Sam asked, forehead wrinkled in thought. They had been sitting in Bobby's study for five minutes now, trying to find answers.

"Not just people we know. People we couldn't save," Dean said. He was up and pacing the room, the energy coursing through his body preventing him from sitting still and reading.

"It can't be true." The words were spoken determinately. All eyes turned to the Slayer as they waited for further explanation. "Giles would never, ever do those things, not to me or Olivia. That is not them, someone is using their forms to make us think that it's them."

"Buffy." It was Bobby who had gently spoken her name. He knew, of course, about her watcher. He knew his death had left a hole inside her that was never going to fully heal. Wounds like that though, they could get in the way of what needed to be done.

"Bobby, he said something about what is going on. He said it would all be over soon, now that the witnesses have risen. Does that make any sense to you?"

"He said that? 'Now that the witnesses have risen'?" Bobby asked urgently. He began to leaf through a leather bound book on his desk.

"Balls!" The sudden shout startled the three people out of their research. Bobby stood up and frantically began to collect books. "We need to get out of here, now."

"What the hell is going on, man?" Dean asked as the old Hunter shoved a load of books into his arms.

"We're going someplace safe! Now follow me idiot." Dean did what he told and followed, last in line. They went to the basement, only it wasn't just any basement. It was made from solid iron and was also covered in pentagrams and devil's traps.

"Bobby, is this?" Sam started but didn't finish.

"Made out of iron and completely coated in salt. It's 100% ghost proof." There was a small hint of pride in his voice that Buffy recognized. She couldn't help smiling even if it did hurt some.

"You built a panic room?" Sam asked, affection rippling through the words.

"I had a weekend off," Bobby said with a shrug of his shoulders, like it was something everyone did.

"Bobby. Dude, you are awesome," Dean said as he clapped him on the back in the congratulatory way only men seemed able to do. Buffy was silently laughing at the interaction between the men. The tension began to diffuse from the room as they all started to relax a little.

"Bo Derek. Classic, man." Dean smiled roguishly as he looked at the poster taped to the wall. Buffy rolled her eyes and set her load of books on small table. Bobby pointed to the corner.

"Shut up and make yourself useful. Shotgun shells aren't going to fill themselves."

"See, this is why I can't get behind God," Dean said as he and Sam filled shell casings with rock salt and iron pellets. Buffy looked up when he spoke, her concentration on the text before her broken.

"What are you talking about Dean?" Sam asked, confused at the sudden topic. He looked at his brother, waiting for the rant he knew was coming.

"This! Life. Everything. If there really is a God, what is wrong with him? Where the hell was He while all those decent people were ripped and torn to shreds? Why doesn't He help? He's supposed to be all powerful, all knowing. How does He just turn His back on that?"

"I don't know Dean," Sam said sincerely. "You want me to believe He's not real? That's a better option?"

"Yeah, it is. Bad crap happens to good people. That's just how it is. No rhyme or reason, just random, evil shit. I get that. But some big jerk off in the sky watching and controlling everything and letting it happen? That I don't get."

"Does it matter?" Buffy spoke up for the first time since the conversation had started. Two sets of Winchester eyes turned to her, burning with curiosity.

"What do you mean 'does it matter?' Of course it matters!" Dean said, a little bit on edge. He still hasn't completely recovered from seeing the small blonde almost choked to death less than an hour ago. Her face and neck were still bruised. Reminders that shot uneasily to the pit of his stomach.

"What exactly does it change? Does it change what you do? Are you going to stop saving people? Suddenly start going to church?"

"No."

"Then who cares who is or isn't pulling the strings?" Buffy said. The room was quiet for a moment as they took in her perspective.

"Found it." Bobby's voice rang out across the room.

"What?" Buffy asked, alerted at once to the excitement in Bobby's voice.

"The Rise of the Witnesses," he explained. The three of them abandoned all pretense of what they were doing and crowded around the old Hunter. "It's a spell, so powerful it left a mark, like this."

He pointed to a picture showing a cross with four points enclosed with a circle.

"Henrickson had that on him," Sam said. "It was on his hand."

"That symbol, the brand on the ghosts..."

"Yeah?" All three of them said in unison. Buffy could feel a knot in the pit of her stomach. This wasn't going to be good, she just knew it.

"It's the Mark of the Witness. These ghosts, they are the Witnesses."

"Witness? Witness to what?" Dean asked.

"The unnatural. None of them died what you'd call ordinary deaths. See, these ghosts- they were forced to rise. They woke up in agony. They're more like rabid dogs than the people they were. It ain't their fault. Someone rose them... On purpose." The last part seemed to be directed at Buffy and she gave him a small reassuring smile. She knew Giles would never really mean those things.

"Who rose them? And how do we stop them? We don't have the time to salt and burn all their bones." Sam said and Dean nodded.

"Do I look like I know?" Bobby said irritably. "This mark though, it leaves a brand on their souls. Whoever did this had big plans. There's a spell here, though. It should put them all back to rest."

"Should? You're not sure?" Sam asked, words mirroring the others' thoughts.

"Hey, it's the best I can do. You got something better?" Bobby replied. "Yeah, I didn't think so. Luckily, I think I've got everything we need here at the house."

"Any chance you got everything we need here in this nifty, ghost-proof, panic room?" Buffy quipped, trying to keep things light.

"What? You thought our luck would start now," Bobby said, sarcasm dripping from each word. "We need to cast it over an open flame."

"The library?" Buffy said as she walked over to where Bobby was sitting and looked over his shoulder. She had the feeling that he wasn't telling them everything he knew. He looked up at her and met her eyes. She was positive now that he was keeping something back.

"Bingo." He said, turning away from her and back to his book. Buffy wasn't upset, she knew he felt the need to protect her and the Winchesters. But she needed to know.

"What else is there, Bobby?"

Bobby sighed but sat back and began talking. "The Rise of the Witnesses, it's a sign. It's a part of an ancient prophecy."

Buffy made a little sound in the back of her throat, she did not like hearing this. Her and prophecies usually did not end well. Where the hell did all these prophets come from anyway? For once couldn't she get a rumor or conjecture instead?

"What does the prophecy say?" Dean asked, not liking the look of pain that crossed Buffy's face when Bobby started talking about it.

"It's the big one, guys. The Apocalypse."

"Apocalypse, Apocalypse? From the Bible?" Sam asked, clearly not liking the thought.

"That's the one. The Rising of the Witnesses, it's a sign. A mile marker for the start of the Apocalypse."

"No!" Buffy shouted, aggravated. "I am sick to death of stopping Apocalypses. For once, can I go longer than two years without the world ending! Is that too much to ask?!"

"So what are we going to do about that?" Dean asked, a little alarmed at Buffy's reaction but ignoring her. He knew there couldn't be any easy answers but damned if he was just going to let that shit happen.

"Why don't we try to survive our little friends out there first," Bobby said, taking charge.

"Finish loading those shells boys. We're going to need them. Buffy, you know how to handle a shotgun? I know you don't like guns, but this here ain't your normal stake 'em and kill 'em demon, Hun."

"I'm good, Bobby," Buffy said, as she sat next to the brothers and began to load the empty cartridges. She didn't mind when he let slip little endearments. She knew that was all they were. "You just worry about the spell, we'll take care of the rest."

Thank you so much to Woman of Words for being my Beta and for her patience with my comma ineptness lol.

I also want to say thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. They really mean a lot to me. I know this chapter took longer to get out and I'm sorry. Feb and March are crazy busy for me with work and I just didn't have time. Next one will be out sooner I promise.