Giles sat in the therapist's office while his new neighbor sat in the waiting room with her knitting needles and her cat patterned shirt. They'd measured his stump and other leg and were getting a prosthetic for him. When they returned, he tried to smile, but he flinched from the cut on his lip. The nurse and physical therapist tried it on him and when they knew it was a fit, they taught him how to get it on and off.
"You'll need to have sessions with me every day. Can you get here? I noticed you're from Sunnydale and we've had a lot of those patients stop showing up." Her concerned smile seemed sincere to Rupert, but he couldn't manage one in return.
"I'll make it work. What time shall I be here tomorrow?"
"Ten o'clock sound good?" She asked as she picked up a clipboard.
"It sounds fine." Giles wrapped his take home instructions on care and practice round the rung of his crutches. The prosthetic hindered more than helped at the moment but he refused to remove it, determined to practice at every opportunity. He kept repeating in his mind the names of the children. While technically adults, he knew they were still babes in this world with just as much need for care and guidance. And Dawn was still a child, even technically.
"Cheryl? Can you bring the car round?" He tried harder to smile at her, and it had the effect he was looking for.
She smiled back and said, "Sure thing."
By the time he hobbled into the house, his eye twitched every time he heard the word cat and he hoped Spike would eat every last one of hers. It'd save them the indignity of her cat sized sweaters and mittens and hats and pants. He rubbed his forehead when the first thing he heard was Spike yelling at Buffy to get him dinner since she let all his cats go. "At least the plan to treat her normally hasn't been ignored." When Buffy shrilled back that he had to get his own meals, and not bring them in the house, Giles knew the plan was working. Treating her with kid gloves would only reinforce any ideas she might have about committing suicide. They'd show her that everyone thought her weak and broken if they treated her with too much gentleness. But, he wasn't sure a yelling match was the answer either.
Spike followed by Buffy stormed into the living room. "Giles tell her that since she's the reason I don't have food she needs to replace it."
Buffy huffed. "If anything he'll tell you to get your own food. Kill a deer or something. That should last longer."
"Yes because Sunnydale is rife with deer." Spike threw up his hands. "You know what. I'll get my own meals and I'll just leave all their dead bodies in your bed." He grabbed a blanket off the couch and used it to brave the sun.
"And yet he still swears he's in love with me. Does that make any sense?" Buffy flopped onto the overstuffed chair.
"He wouldn't have gotten that upset if he didn't. He'd have just found his own meals and left the carcases in your bed without warning." Giles got two feet past the threshold when Dawn came running through.
"Buffy have you seen my boots? The green thigh high ones?" She paused long enough to kiss Giles on the cheek. "How's the new leg?"
"Bothersome at the moment but I'll master its use. That is if I don't melt it out of frustration first." Giles tried to look at her the way he had before the attack but sometimes when he saw Dawn all he saw was the Hellion chasing her down until Giles threw himself in its path. And he could feel it all again. The leg getting crushed, the claw that raked through his eye, and then the one through his lip. His arm cracking under the pressure of its boot. It was like he couldn't even see Dawn anymore. She'd become a faceless screen for him to relive that nightmare. He didn't want her to suffer because of his trauma, but he didn't know how to see her again. He felt the loss of his youngest charge as keenly as if she'd died.
Dawn unwrapped the practice instructions from his crutch. "These look easy, but I'm sure that means they'll be difficult for a while. I'll help you exercise and work on your walking. Didn't they say you could walk with no canes or crutches if you got good enough?"
He sat down and busied himself with the belts that kept the metal leg in place even though it was perfectly secure. "They did. And I'll take all the help I can get." Giles looked at her left ear and tried to project his gratitude without hurting his mouth.
"Did they say anything about your eye?" Dawn asked as she tugged Buffy's hair into tiny braids, trying to pull her out of whatever trance she'd fallen into. Buffy batted at Dawn's hand but that only fortified Dawn's determination to keep going.
"They said it would take time and deliberate practice. The suggestion was to gauge distance using familiar markers, such as the average size of a book, or a car. Things of that nature should help me judge distance better. They suggested I not try to drive until I have command of depth once more." Giles wondered why he still wore his glasses since they were half useless.
"Well you have time. You need to figure out your shiny new leg before you can drive again anyway. I need to get some supplies but when I get back, we'll practice." Dawn nodded her head and then disappeared into the kitchen to cry. Once she felt she could show her face again, she rushed through the living room asking once more if anyone had seen her boots without waiting for an answer. She found them under the table in the dining library and began the arduous task of lacing them.
Giles watched Buffy, and even with only one working eye he could see she looked tired. "Perhaps you could use a nap?"
Buffy shook her head when the front door slammed behind Dawn on her way out to get her mysterious supplies. "Yeah. You need anything before I lay down?"
"Thank you, Buffy, but I'm fine. Get some rest." Giles leaned back into the couch cushions, sighing in relief at the quiet only for that peace to be broken by Xander.
"Hey Giles. Have you seen Spike?"
"He left a few minutes ago."
Xander raised two sets of crossed fingers. "Here's hoping he dusts during that sunlit walk." Then the boy danced toward the kitchen in what looked like a version of Anya's dance of capitalist superiority.
"Must miss her more than he lets on."
Just as Giles got comfortable a light feminine voice whispered in his ear. "No time to rest, Mr. Giles. We've got a Slayer and town to save."
He glimpsed what almost looked like a doll before the phantom disappeared. "The mysterious Edith perhaps?" But no one answered him.
"I'll be too skinny after this trip." Tara stopped to catch her breath. "I don't hear anything."
"Me neither. That's not good." Anya grabbed Tara's hand and dragged her over the last hill. "The damn guide's not here. That chickenshit little turd. We'll have to walk for at least another day to get anywhere close to civilization."
"Let's set up the tent and get some rest. My blisters are all broken and bleeding." Tara sat down and pulled the tent out of her pack.
"Mine too. So yes, we need to rest before we go on. We also need to take care of our feet or we'll die out here." Anya sat behind Tara to keep out of her way and got the first aid kit out. "I've never been so glad to be a pessimist in my existence. This kit has everything we'll need, including some magical cures that should at least make tomorrow a little less painful. How's the water supply?"
"If that river didn't infect us with anything, we've got enough to last another day. Maybe a day and half if we need it to." Tara put the last of the skeleton together and threaded the canvass over it.
"I made a guy die of thirst once. His wife got so sick of his boozing then beating her, she wished he'd never be able to drink again. She probably meant alcohol, but whatever." Anya patted her blisters down with the potion she packed and could feel it working already. "Point is, let's not die of thirst. It's a crappy way to go."
"I agree. No dying of thirst. But I'd give my right arm for some food. When was the last time we ate?" Tara forced herself to her feet with a whimper to finish setting up the tent.
"Two days ago, but we'll be fine. We can live a disgustingly long time without food. Now sit down and let me treat your feet." Anya poured some potion on another gauze pad while Tara took off her shoes.
Blood dripped off Tara's ravaged feet pitter patting in the sand as Anya tried her utmost to help her new best friend. She even cringed in sympathy every time Tara gasped, or cried in pain.
"We'll be able to fix everything when we're done, right?" Tara asked as she dragged herself into the tent, trying to keep her feet off the ground. "It'll all be worth it right?"
"Of course it will," Anya lied as she crawled in behind Tara. "They wouldn't put us through all this if the powers didn't intend to help us. We've got to prove our worth, our mettle. And we're women, right? From a heritage that's bore the brunt of history. We can do this, no problem. We survived Clay. We can survive anything. And we'll go home to a hero's welcome and save our loved ones."
When Anya noticed Tara's breathing changed to sleep breathing, she kissed the woman's forehead. "I'm glad that I'm going through all this with you. I would've killed anyone else by now."
With a final sigh, Anya curled up on her sleeping bag and was asleep before another thought crossed her mind.