"Come along, Hamish, this is preposterous!"

Buffy stopped just inside the classroom doors. Who was Giles talking to?

She had come well before classes to talk to him. How could someone be here so early? With a specific mission in mind she had stopped at his apartment, but he was already gone. She should wait until they were alone, but she really couldn't.

Standing here now she hesitated. In her heart she wanted to talk to him about what they had shared two nights ago -- at the old ruined monastery -- but the words would not come, the timing wasn't right -- any possible excuse to push it off. Brave enough to fight demons, vampires and creature-reptiles, she did not possess the courage to share her feelings with the person closest to her.

"Blast Travers! He has done everything possible to undermine my work -- my Slayer, Hamish. You sent a memo? This is absurd! This personal animosity against -- yes -- yes it is! No -- your support and focus must be Buffy!"

The Slayer cringed at the words. Was Giles making some kind of deal? On the brink of rushing into the room and interrupting the conversation, she faltered.

Giles groaned, supposedly listening to the other person on the phone. Buffy dared to creep forward and peer into his private office. Giles sat in his chair, his left hand cradling his head. She winced at the sight of the worn man who had been through so much -- including the griffin who so recently tried to rip out his heart.

His tone shifted from demanding to pleading. "Please understand, Hamish. This is not for me, this is for my Slayer." Giles shook his head. "No, she does not need an observer from the Council, Hamish, she needs your support! I need your support! We cannot do our job here on the Hellmouth without allies. We do not need more enemies from the Council."

Buffy's eyes burned in sympathy for her Watcher. Was Giles giving in to the Council? Once he told her he suspected the Council assigned him as her Watcher because they had no hope of the two misfits surviving. They had far exceeded all expectations of Slayer abilities and life expectancies, and now more than ever the Council still considered them outlaws. But if Giles was conforming she knew it was to protect her.

"Fine!" Giles stood abruptly, flinging the chair backwards. His voice brittle and harshly biting, he grated, "We will carry on regardless, then, Hamish. My Slayer defends the world at the Hellmouth while you old sods debate protocol!" He slammed the phone down, then threw the whole instrument onto the floor. With muttered curses he dropped into his chair, elbows on knees, head in hands.

The sound of movement caught his ear and Giles glanced out the doorway. "Hello?" Taking weary steps, he scanned the classroom, seeing only the open door into the hall. Whoever his visitor had been they were gone now, but some tendril of . . . . "Buffy?" The subdued, uncertain inquiry died quickly in the still air of the empty room.

Returning to his chair he leaned on the desk and sank his head in his arms. Life rapidly seemed to be unraveling around him and there appeared no end to the plunge into an abyss of misery. Hell on the Hellmouth had been redefined during the past couple of years.

While waiting for his classes to start Giles had sorted through his mail. His hand froze at the modest return address of the Watcher's Council on one letter. This letter came from Hamish Watson, an old family friend, relating disturbing news. Edward Sampson, the head of the Council, was gravely ill -- not expected to live out the month. Thus his frantic call to Watson, to see what the circumstance of this new twist meant to him and Buffy. The Council turning actively against them!

When his Slayer had rejected the Council he had expected the blow to fall then, but he had friends still on the Council who had been able to keep things in balance for them, his Uncle Edward being one of the forces keeping the more radical members in check, the always antagonistic Travers, notwithstanding. So they had been left in a static limbo.

Then not too long after their break with the council, Angel had left and Giles began to hope that something could finally go right in his life. Angel out of the way, Buffy slowly healing from her anguish, he eventually had hoped there would be room in Buffy's life for him -- not as a Watcher -- but as something more.

Then came college and new boyfriends and new threats and no room for either of them to see if they could define a new relationship. More than once he had been willing to trade his life for Buffy's safety. Ultimately, his life was not his own -- it belonged completely to his Slayer. He had left his homeland and way of life to serve her. Someone he cared about very much, Jenny Calendar, had betrayed his Slayer so he turned his back on the now dead computer teacher. To help Buffy fight threats he had called in favors, demanded unusual support and worn out his welcome to many members in the Council. Enduring numerous physical injuries in his training, in his fights against the demons, he would double all those pains to save her.

Then within the last few months things had started to turn around for him and her when they had found the Slayer's dagger Arancor. It had forced to the forefront the legend of the Fated Connection between Slayer and Watcher and brought a totally new dimension to that relationship. They were closer now than ever.

Adversely, as always happens, came the negative -- the threat from the Watcher Council. Never a favorite with most of the leading members, his birthright made him one of the top candidates for the new Slayer five years ago when the old Slayer died. Other Slayers were training, but were not the next Chosen One. Working on an almost psychic level, the leader of the Council usually could find Slayers-to-be through perceptive dreams. Buffy's existence and location were not clear until she was already a freshman in high school.

Merrick, a semi-retired Watcher in America was the one to locate her and precipitously started her career in slaying without proper training or authorization from the Council. Merrick paid the ultimate price for his oversight. A new Watcher was to be assigned when the young Slayer made her move to Sunnydale.

Outwardly, Giles held all possible requirements for a first-rate Watcher. His intellect, knowledge and eclectic expertise would be an asset to any Slayer. His past, however, always seemed to cast a shadow on his life in the eyes of the Council. When given the risky personality and situation of the new slayer, the Council felt Giles a good match as a Watcher. More conformist, conservative Watchers were assigned Slayers-in-training. A few months, possibly a year, on the Hellmouth, the Slayer would be dead and Giles could be recalled to England with tradition and family obligations satisfied.

Giles wanted to laugh at the machinations. As with everything connected to Buffy, nothing worked out as planned. The Slayer was resourceful, cunning, skillful and brilliant. She defied prophesy, death and ancient vampires. In the same instant she could irritate and endear beyond comprehension. She was his Slayer and together they had beaten all the odds against them.

Giles looked back down at the letter still open on his desk. There had been little affection existing between Uncle Edward and himself. Rupert had alienated himself from his strict family when he had quit Oxford many years before and lived on the wild side as Ripper. When he had returned to his familial duty as a Watcher, he was coldly welcomed back into the fold with reserved reluctance. Since then he had had to work tirelessly and prove his worth -- paying back with abundant interest the breech of trust he had created with his rebellion.

The last vestiges of that strict return to the Watcher ways ended when Travers had forced the Cruciamentum on him and his Slayer. After the council had "fired" him he had realized the only important thing was to protect Buffy no matter the circumstance.

At this juncture the imminent death of Edward registered only in regards to his Slayer. How would this affect Buffy? Who would succeed Edward to head the Council? If it was someone hostile toward Giles, it would go hard with Buffy. The Council certainly had not forgiven either of them for defecting and rebelling.

Rupert removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, suddenly so weary of the continually petty politics swirling around him. The Council, the Slayerettes -- even Buffy. Would there never be a time for them? Was he deluding himself? Buffy was so much younger, so vibrant, so -- incredible. And he was her Watcher. Destined to watch over her, protect her, guide her. Nowhere in the rules had there ever been a footnote about loving her. Just one more rule he had broken in his long history of aberrations.

***

Buffy stopped in the doorway when she saw him with his face sunk in his hands. She had returned to see if he had finished with his phone call. She hadn't wanted to interrupt him while he had been on the phone. When she had realized that he had been talking to someone on the council she had left. She was ashamed to admit it but she hadn't wanted to know what new machinations the Council was up to with regards this particular Watcher and Slayer.

Now pride and guilt held her at bay. It had been she who orchestrated the actual break with the Council and Giles had been fired because he had wanted to protect her. After so much suffering and disruption in there relationship over the last few years, she could not allow his continuing sacrifices to go unheeded. She needed Giles more than she could ever tell him and he should know that. Maybe it would help him with whatever problem the Council had dealt him now.

Moving quietly into the room she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He started in surprise and then instant recognition when he felt the mental contact of his Slayer. She placed her other hand on his other shoulder in a comforting grip.

"Are you okay?"

"Buffy." He relished the feel of her hands on his shoulders, the touch enhancing their link even more. "Sorry -- I -- uh -- what can I do for you?"

Buffy moved away from him and Giles felt a loss at the decrease in their contact. Buffy nudged aside some papers and sat on the edge his desk, toying with the corner of Watson's envelope. Noting the return address she glanced at the open letter. Now she understood what the call had been about.

"Oh, Giles, I'm so sorry about your uncle. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." He reached for the letter before she could read all of it. "We weren't very close."

"Then why are you so upset?"

He retrieved his glasses and looked at her, knowing that with the strong connection between them. Giles would be unable to lie, or try to protect Buffy from how bad things were going to become as the Council factions began their internal struggle for dominance.

"I've been trying to find out why that Watcher strike team was out to get me -- us -- you. I'm positive it's beyond your refusal to work with them and my refusal to leave you. "

"You think it's Arancor?"

"Possibly but -- Wesley, Angel and I discussed that possibility the other day . . . ."

Buffy smiled inwardly, her thoughts straying for a moment. She had been glad to hear that Giles was now inclined to work with Angel. She knew Giles, who had been the one who had borne the worst of Angelus' rages against her, had been willing to do it if it meant protecting her, his Slayer. She also was cognizant of the fact that Angel and Giles would most likely never have the relationship, they had had before Angelus, but that Giles was able to at least work with the vampire was heartening to her.

She had loved, past tense, Angel. He had been her first love, and when one is a girl of sixteen, that childish love is everything. But that love belonged to a child and Buffy was no longer a child. As a woman she knew she was falling in love with the man in front of her, the man who was her partner, mentor, friend and -- lover? Only time would tell.

" . . . the dagger, and the fated connection as far as the Watchers as a whole are concerned is a myth, that never existed. Angel believes and Wesley and I concur that there is an inner circle within the council, that has tried to control the dagger and the effects of the fated connection."

"How?"

"We don't know yet, we're still trying to work that out."

"Didn't Angel tell us that he thought there had been a curse placed on the Watcher and Slayer who formed a Fated Connection? And the griffin attack was all part of it?"

"Yes, and having done more research with the books Angel has tried to collect over the last 80 or so years, Wesley and I have no doubt that there is, and probably has been for centuries, an undiscovered faction within the Council."

"Do you think that old creep Travers is involved with this group?"

"Oh, undoubtedly, whatever or whoever this contingent is they have been, for centuries, corrupting the natural outcome of any Fated Connection that has begun to form."

"Even tampering with the Watcher's journals of these same Watchers and Slayers."

"Yes, and now with my Uncle Edward's death the Council itself will be in turmoil. This could have repercussions for you too, Buffy," he quietly confessed. "Because of my past. Perhaps you should know."

With deceptive calm he reminded her of his break with family and tradition in the Watcher Council. He explained some of the other reasons he was considered a pariah, besides Ripper's debacle. He had been expected to fail -- had failed several times while here in Sunnydale as far as the Council was concerned. With Edward out of the picture his negative standing could affect her and would almost certainly affect him.

"There is some kind of internal struggle going on in England. Travers' group will be at the forefront of the battle with the oldest members of the Council and because of who I am I will be dragged into it. Or be targeted. And that could include you."

Involuntarily her empathetic whimper escaped. He looked up, surprised to see her trembling, her hands to her face.

"I am so, so sorry, Giles." Leaning forward she hugged him. Tears fell on his shoulder. She laid her face on his arm and he covered her wet cheek with his hand. "I've hurt you so much. Now your Council hates you because of me."

His warm breath brushed against her ear from his trembling whisper. "No, Buffy, they're not my Council anymore and it is nothing you have done. I'm sorry to say my own failings with the Council have brought trouble to me, and unfortunately, possibly to you."

Buffy hugged him tighter. "But they hate you because of my actions, becoming the first Slayer to ever break with the Council." She pulled back, blinking tears away. "And you're not even mad at me."

Tears burned in his own eyes as he wiped her face dry. "Never." He smiled. "Well, almost never."

Tears flowed freely and quickly turned to sobs as she straightened and hugged him, leaning on his chest. "I didn't want to hurt you. I never meant to cause you so much pain, ever. Please believe me."

All too familiar with the themes of sin and contrition, Giles held her, brushing her hair with his hand and tenderly sending whisperings of support and understanding to his Slayer. Since she was his life there could be no irritation for her -- anger, bitterness, hurt -- sometimes. Forgiveness came more easily than a heartbeat. How could he throw stones when he had traveled her same road, made so many terrible -- worse -- mistakes himself? How could he be angry when no matter what she did his heart filled with love for her?

"You mustn't worry so about the past, Buffy. We must move on." Holding her close, it seemed so easy to wash away the prior suffering. Yes, forgiveness came easily. "I will always be here to watch over you, Buffy."

***

Part 2

Two weeks later

Willow found it nearly impossible to concentrate on her job as Student Aid to 'Professor Giles'. For the last half-hour she kept watching the clock, waiting impatiently for Oz to pick her up. They were going to do a quick cram session for history before she locked Oz away for the night in Giles' garage. On edge about the new werewolf security precautions, she didn't realize how distracted Giles seemed until just a few minutes ago. Twice he had asked when Oz would arrive and three times she noticed him watching the clock too. The last few weeks Giles had been acting strange. Perhaps something to do with the Council thing Buffy had mentioned to her a while back.

As their co-conspirator and general mentor, more likely Giles' concerns were for Oz and the new secure room were understandable. The werewolf business did not explain the former Watcher's nervous state, however. She pushed the papers away, giving up on grading tests. Just before she moved to talk to Giles, Oz arrived.

"Hey, babe."

"Oz. Hi."

She gathered her purse and books. Giles came over to greet the younger man.

"I wonder if the two of you might stay for a few minutes and do me a favor?"

"Sure."

Giles brought an envelope from his desk and removed several official-looking documents. "I have something I'd like the two of you to sign, please. If you don't mind."

Taking the papers, Willow looked back at him in surprise. "This is your will."

"Yes, I thought it a good idea -- " He stammered, rubbing his hands nervously. "Life is uncertain for all of us, but Watchers are counseled to keep their personal affairs in order. Since I am no longer a Watcher and my life is considerably altered -- and things being what they are on the Hellmouth and such -- well, I thought this a prudent idea."

Oz levelly studied him with cool eyes. "So what's really up, Giles?"

For a moment he assessed their eager faces, weighing the merits of truth or obfuscation. Knowing the hardest course to be the best in the long run, he chose honesty.

"I've been in touch with my friend Watson in England for several weeks. Things are not going well with the power struggle in the Council -- I thought it a good idea to take care of my legal affairs," Giles told them.

He had another reason, though and one he couldn't very well explain to his young friends. For the past week he had been feeling an unnamed dread. He had no idea where this tense feeling of disquiet was coming from but it had nibbled at his consciousness in the last week. He knew that something was about to occur that would change things for good or ill. What was the quote? 'By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.' Very appropriate for what he was feeling.

Willow confided she didn't know how to respond to the alarming news. They lived with danger every day, but she always felt Giles would be around forever. Being removed by his own Council was appalling.

"Oh, and one more thing, please don't mention this to Buffy. It would give her more to worry about than she already has."

Willow's surprise turned to dismayed shock. "You want me to keep a secret from Buffy?"

"Please."

"Okay," Oz answered, then raised his eyebrows at her for confirmation.

"Sure," she responded, but behind her back her fingers were crossed.

****

With the cavalier feeling that life could be much shorter than he wanted, Giles decided on a decisive course of action. After the encounter with the Griffin; the dreams, the Fated Connection, he sensed the path open to him, deciding he should make the first move. The first step in a decision that could change his life -- Buffy's life -- forever. For the better he hoped, but he wasn't even sure of that. If he was wrong and these feelings he had always felt for her were not right -- even though the Fated Connection seemed to decree that they were -- then he could be ruining their friendship. And was it fair to engage her feelings like this when he could be dead in the near future? Worse, he could endanger his Slayer because she might find it impossible to work with him after he took this definitive step. On the other hand, no prize was ever won by the faint hearted, to use a very bad pun considering their recent adventures. Instinct -- or his heart -- told him now was the time to move.

In the evening when she came over to the house for training he stalled, going through all the exercises and drills, finally relaxing on the sofa with some cold drinks before working up the courage. How could he fight demons and vampires and be faint hearted in sharing his feelings with the woman he loved?

"Buffy, I thought --" She looked up expectantly as she threw a vicious punch that hit him in the shoulder. He tumbled backward, folding into the corner.

"Giles!"

"Fine," he mumbled, slowly straightening out.

She helped him up. "You lost your concentration, didn't you?" She winced and gently touched his arm. "Sorry. You're distracted tonight. Why don't we call it quits and I'll go out for patrol early."

"No --" he blundered, confused at how to salvage this. He WAS distracted, but obviously she had no clue why. "I'm fine. I'll go out with you."

"Giles, you know I concentrate better alone --"

"It's been some weeks since the griffin and I should get back out. It would do me good." He grabbed a jacket. "And afterward we -- uh -- we can -- uh -- work on your mythology notes."

"You're just full of fun ideas, Giles," she ironically accused as she swept out the door.

"Yes, aren't I?" he snarled at himself for his lack of courage.

The patrol was less than dramatic. Two vampires trolling the graveyard did not even know what hit them. As Giles watched his Slayer dispatch the enemy with amazing grace and skill, he was once more hit by the pang of appreciation and love that accompanied his thoughts of Buffy. Demons feared her, why did her Watcher? Because slaying could be done on more than just a physical level. What he contemplated, the step he proposed to take, could ruin them both. Was he willing to take that risk? But if he never advanced the relationship he would be left with this aching heart forever. And Buffy might fall for someone else's charms even though the Fated Connection indicated they were a fated match. Didn't he owe it to her to make the attempt? To see if the Fated Connection was real? Why not let Fate decide?

"How was that, Prof?"

"Brilliant. As always. Did you want to try the cemetery near downtown?"

"Nah, that's just old graves. I think I've done enough slaying for the night. Okay?"

"Yes, fine. Maybe -- uh -- shall we stop by that drive-in down by the pier? I feel a need for a Rocky Road special."

"Mmmmm." She pretended to ponder the suggestion, then she smiled. "Butter pecan swirl with hot fudge sounds great. Your treat?"

"Isn't it always?"

It wasn't exactly a date, he tempered as he sat beside her in her flashy red sports car and downed his ice cream treat. It was close enough, though, that he could pretend. He looked on this as a kind of test. Here by the beach they were away from the center of town, the Hellmouth, the old neighborhoods and haunts and even away from the college crowd. While Sunnydale University had no restricting rules about staff dating students (in the progressive Southern California community that would be too restrictive!), Giles had his own sense of old fashioned propriety. He had to take this slow, careful, and discerningly. Going out for ice cream at a place where most people would not know them was a cautious start. He would see where it went from here.

***

Next evening

She hadn't thought about it until that magical evening when Giles brought her up here, but she had never felt such perfect peace in all her memory until that moment……

The top down on her car, the old coast road was isolated and scenic. She talked about days she used to spend at the beach in LA. He listened with adoring attention. When they arrived at the hilltop overlooking the sea she pulled the car along side a crumbling stone wall. A few walls remained of old buildings, but looters and storms had reduced the old monastery to rubble. He led her to the eerie shell of a three-walled chapel ruin. Standing on what seemed to be the altar he asked her to stay there and close her eyes.

"Look inside, Buffy. Slowly, one by one, take away the distracting elements around you. Tune out the sea, the wind, the elements that are not in your heart."

Dutifully she closed her eyes and gradually her expression cleared. Then an aura of calm seemed to encompass her like a blanket. She started to sway slightly and he reached over and placed his hands on her shoulders. A warmth resonated from her skin under the blouse and a tingle shot along his hands and arms. A serene smile played on her lips. He closed his eyes to tap into the shared experience. This was something akin to what they felt in their first encounter with the Fated Connection. Yet, this was something beyond that. Something more profound, elusively deeper. An emotion beyond the watchful care of a Watcher and the obedient pupil of a Slayer. Not just within their hearts, but within their souls.

His eyes snapped open the instant he sensed she broke the connection. It wasn't an abrupt, jarring cut, but a -- fleeing -- an escape. As if she couldn't face what she had felt. Looking into her wide eyes he knew the description was correct. It had startled her, perhaps frightened her to feel the intensity between them. Releasing his hold, he stayed close. The sun had gone down. How long had they been in that stasis of sharing? The wind off the water was cool.

Buffy shivered and that broke the moment. Cold or fear? He couldn't press her for answers now. He removed his jacket and studied her face. "Are you all right?" he wondered as he draped his coat over her shoulders. Then he pressed her close, she did not resist his embrace.

"That was -- wow -- I don't know. Deep." She looked right through him. "You felt it, too. We've gone to a new level." She took a breath. "Is that because we're on sacred ground?"

"I don't know," he replied, pondering, uncertain that was the real reason. He was hoping it was something more to do with their shared confessions from the griffin incident. "I suppose it is something we will have to study again."

A slight smile played at her lips as she walked back to the car under the protection of her Watcher's loving touch. "I think I like these new lessons, prof."

***

Buffy stood on the grassy hillside overlooking the ocean and drew in the beauty of the sunset over the sea, the cool, misty breeze, the layered, multi-colored clouds that ribboned the sky in indescribable hues.

It wasn't as nice as that night . . . Closing her eyes she tried to recapture the tingling sorcery that had coursed her nerves and fibers with enchantment. On that magical evening several nights ago Giles had asked her to stand on hallowed ground and close her eyes, tapping into the subliminal energy that was intrinsic within each Slayer. Here on this slope she had felt the ancient energy of the Franciscan monks who had established this forgotten monastery. She had sensed the mysteries of Slayer and Watchers of the past who had cycled into the energy she felt when Giles touched her shoulders that night. Or was it the Fated connection?

Her eyes snapped open, her body shivering as chills coursed her skin. Deep in her throat she growled, the shadowy dread she had been feeling was back, making her believe that there could still be something wrong with her part of the Fated Connection. Looking down at Arancor clutched in her hand she felt a heaviness in her heart. Was a commitment with her Watcher too big a responsibility? Didn't she have enough on her shoulders with being the Slayer and having no real life? Why was she so afraid? Where had this sudden apprehension come from? Wasn't he part of something spellbinding, secure, loving?

Firmly gripping the Arancor dagger in her hand she reveled in the quiver of energy coursing through her being when connected to the magical and archaic weapon. She loved to watch the crystals on top of the hilt sparkle. Giles had told her that the largest stone was a lapis and the others surrounding it were white moonstones.

Giles -- her feelings for him were so confused at the moment. That was why she needed to focus on one thing at a time. Arancor was what she needed to concentrate on at the moment. And here she would place it until the time was right. But right for what? What was driving her to bury her mystical treasure? Why was the dagger compelling her to hide it? And the fear she had been feeling where was it emanating from, Giles, her, the dagger itself?

Digging under the altar stone she made a narrow niche. Then she placed Arancor into a protective box, placed it under the altar, and pushed a heavy stone slab over it. No one with normal strength could move it. Arancor should be safe here. Without looking back the Slayer left the ruin and headed back to Sunnydale.

***

Part 3

The following evening

At the end of patrol that night Buffy sensed -- saw -- Giles seemed on edge just as she felt. Walking back to her car, she came to a stop before she opened the door to the little car. Unable to explain her unease, she asked if he was feeling all right.

"Buffy, I was wondering," he started hesitantly, then took a deep breath. "If you weren't doing anything, maybe you would like to go out -- go out to that new restaurant by the pier."

Not the answer she expected at all, she mentally regrouped. "Now? I'd like to shower first."

"No, I mean, tomorrow night. I mean, for dinner and dancing and -- I'd like to take you out, Buffy." He finally stopped and stared at her. "On a date."

"A date? You mean -- uh -- a date."

He seemed to hold his breath as if surprised at her perplexity.

"Love to." She smiled and so did he.

***

The Longboard Grill was a trendy spot decorated in California chic. Designed for the upper economic income levels of Sunnydale, it was a popular spot to catch the movers and shakers of the city, along with the rich college crowd and the tourists with plenty of money. Parking was done by valets dressed in Hawaiian shirts. Giles was glad they brought Buffy's Miata. It was a beautiful night to have the top down, and the red sports car fit right in with the swank restaurant. They pulled up, the speakers blaring with the soundtrack from A HARD DAY'S NIGHT. Several of the young attendants eyed Buffy, in her tight, dark blue dress, with wolfish expressions. Instead of feeling jealous, Giles was glowing with contentment. They could look all they wanted, he smugly grinned inside, but she was holding his arm and going home with him at the end of the night.

As requested, his reserved table by the window was prepared and he was pleased it favored a sweeping view of the bobbing lights of the boats in the harbor and the boardwalk along the pier. Nervous and anxious, Giles was mildly intrigued that through their link he could tell that Buffy was a little unnerved herself. It pleased him to know she could coolly kill demons, but was as concerned as he to make the night special.

The waiter arrived and addressed Giles, asking what he would like to drink and asked if his daughter was over twenty-one. Hardly missing a beat, he clarified that he and his date would have virgin drinks and an appetizer of greens and dip. The waiter gave a nod and left.

"Do you know what you want?"

For a moment they exchanged eye contact, silently acknowledging the uncomfortable blunder of the waiter. Giving him a little smile she leaned forward. "Have you seen the prices?"

He laughed with delight. "It's all right, Buffy, I have a job now, remember?" With a nod he assured, "Order anything you want. What sounds good?"

"I don't know."

Quickly he glanced over the menu, selecting several things that sounded good. "The grilled salmon or mahi mahi is probably worth the risk." When she glanced up he winked. "They claim to specialize in seafood."

"Then I'll get the salmon. I don't eat anything I can't pronounce."

When the waiter returned he brought the drinks, appetizer, then took their orders. While they waited for their food Giles asked her to dance. A bit awkwardly she allowed him to lead her around to the live band's imitation rendition of Frank Sinatra's FLY ME TO THE MOON. Giles was amazed that she was the most athletic girl in half the world and she was uncomfortable with a slow dance! Or maybe just dancing with him. He tried to find some relaxation through small talk.

"It should be BLACK MAGIC or WITCHCRAFT," he whispered in her ear, leaning close.

"I'm not the witch, I'm the slayer," she reminded, then made a chagrined face. "Oh. Is that a song?"

There was that nasty generation gap rearing its ugly head again. "Yes. Before your time, I'm afraid." Then he straightened his shoulders. "Before my time, actually, too, but my parents were besotted Frank Sinatra fans. My mother anyway." Momentarily dark memories of his father -- absent Watcher father intruded -- but he forced them away. Nothing was going to spoil this enchanted evening. "It's all right to like music from other generations."

"I know. Witness the Beatles CD I was playing in the car."

"Touche'."

When she smiled up at him her eyes glittered and his like magic his skin tingled. Shivering, she gave him a quirky wink and leaned her face against his chest. "I could get used to this old music."

In her ear he hummed a few bars of music.

"You were singing along to that in the car."

Quietly, in whispered enchantment, he sang,

"Imagine I'm in love with you, it's easy cause I know. I've imagined I'm in love with you, many, many, many times before. It's not like me to pretend, but I'll get you, I'll get you in the end. Yes I will."

He leaned back slightly to take in her face and gauge her reaction. Chills of thrilling excitement coursed his skin when he saw her glittering smile warmly focused on him. Even more encouraging were the sparkling eyes filled with a level of affection he had never seen there before.

"I love your voice," she sighed, snuggling closer. "When you sing it feels like I'm the only one in the room with you."

"Only the room?" he joked with only a trace of humor. What he wanted to tell her was that she at this moment was the only other person in his universe.

When their dinner arrived they returned to the table. Then conversation was surprisingly mundane, discussing curriculum and college matters along with the boats, the view and the music. While they were in many ways so different, they laughed and talked the night away. Their dinner was excellent and they danced more after a rich and decadent chocolate dessert. Buffy even requested some Beatle tunes, including IMAGINE, and smiled as he quietly sung her the words.

"And you think that relates, huh?"

"Yes I do."

Without agreeing or disagreeing she settled into his arms, the amusement clear in her tone. "I don't know, but you do have a nice voice."

On the drive home she insisted they pull over to walk in the night surf. For a while they danced barefoot in the tide. Then she took his hand as they strolled through the waves. When they returned to the car she leaned against the hood and watched the dark surf, holding his hands in hers. Both were completely at peace for the first time tonight. The pressing dread she had felt had seemed to abate and she was glad to be with Giles here and now.

Through their connection, and through their enhanced chemistry and the romantic setting, she leaned close to him and he felt the invitation to kiss. Slow, lingering, gentle, it was as magic and electrifying as the first time they kissed. It was a long time before they disengaged. When he pulled away he sensed she still wanted more, but he restrained himself. Better not to go too far. It had been a magical evening and he didn't want to ruin it by pushing things too fast. If there was never another moment of intimacy between them, then he had already experienced more than he ever expected.

When she pulled into his driveway he realized they were at the most dreaded moment of a first date -- the good-bye. Should he kiss her again? Did she want to come in? It was more awkward that she was driving her car . . . . .

Fed up with the ridiculous meandering, he observed her body language when she turned off the engine and started to leave the car. Okay, he would follow her lead. When he unlocked the door and opened it she placed a hand on his.

"It's been a fantastic night, Giles, thank you."

"Would you like to come in?"

For a moment she searched his eyes. "Do you want me to?"

The phone rang and they both jumped. Then laughed.

"Maybe I should go home." She reached up and gave him a short, pleasant kiss. "Thank you."

Letting the miserable phone ring, he watched her pull out of the drive and down the street before responding to the call.

"Yes?" he snapped.

"Giles, I haven't got long, this will have to be short." The deep, mellow British voice was familiar, but unusually strained.

"Hamish?"

"Yes, my boy, there isn't much time. I've sent some information to Wesley. It's easier to contact him these days. Things are topsy-turvy here, Rupert and they aren't looking good. I've discovered something sinister here within the Council. All I can say now is to be on your guard, my dear chap. Don't trust anyone from the Council. Except me, of course. Wesley is all right, too. Now be careful, Rupert, there are forces here that are quite afraid of you and your Slayer"

Swallowing his alarm he tried to focus through the confused anxiety and discover something useful.

"Hamish you must tell me more! Why are they afraid of me?"

"I'll be in touch, Rupert. Stay alert." The phone clicked off.

Pacing, trying to settle his nerves and sort through the confusion, Giles worried for his old friend. What was happening that could strike fear into the solid, stalwart nerves of Hamish, who came from a long line of supporting, strong, brave Watchers? What did Wesley have to do with this? Watcher lines were predominantly decided by blood connection. Hamish had no children of his own, but had mentored Rupert when his own father had been so focused on training a slayer. What of Wesley? If Giles recalled correctly, Wesley was related to Travers! And Hamish Watson thought Wesley was worthy to trust? Instinctively so did Giles.

Punching out a phone number Giles impatiently waited while the rings escalated. Where was Wesley at past midnight on a Tuesday night? Well, the former Watcher did work for a vampire and did most of their covert work at night. So they were out working.

Settling into the sofa Giles leaned back and tried to push past the worry. It wasn't hard. All he had to do was think about the magnificent evening he'd spent with the woman he loved. He fell asleep dreaming of dancing in the surf with Buffy.

***

Before leaving for college the next morning he contacted Wesley. There was no new information from Watson and Wesley promised to inform Giles the minute he knew anything about the cryptic warning. At school Giles and Buffy kept their relationships normal and cool, but he couldn't fail to notice the winks and secret smiles she gave him.

After class Giles was cornered by the dreaded Melissa and Buffy just giggled knowingly. Willow wanted to know what was up and Buffy told her she'd learn all when they were out at the lunch quad. Sitting at an isolated table Buffy leaned close to her friend.

"We went out on a date!" Relating it was nearly as thrilling as the experience, to Buffy's surprise. There was an incredible, sizzling chemistry between her and Giles. How had she never noticed it before? Was it just since finding Arancor? Or had it started earlier and the dagger's appearance having only enhanced it even more? Was that what the fated connection was all about? In luscious detail she told her best friend everything -- from the dinner and the dancing to the kissing by the surf.

Excited and happy, Willow practically squealed with delight at the surprising turn of events. When Oz and Xander wandered over and asked about the gossip, Willow told all.

"He's so old!" Xander gasped.

"But cool," Oz countered. "He's been moony over you forever, Buffy.

The Slayer preened and slapped Xander's arm, then smiled at Oz. "Really?"

"He is not old. He's -- mature," Willow defended.

Buffy smiled with pleasure. "He's very romantic. And old fashioned. And charming."

"Does that mean he -- uh --"

Buffy delivered a Slayer-powerful elbow to Xander's ribs. "You think he's taking advantage of me? I'm letting him take the lead in our relationship."

Willow approved, reminding the gang that Buffy was the Slayer and really controlled him -- probably always did. He was more of an adviser than a mentor. Romantically, it made sense to let him court her.

"And I've never felt so special."

Willow and Oz held hands, both voicing approval with the older man/younger woman match. "I think it's about time you got together," Willow stated. "We've known Giles' feelings for a long time."

Buffy frowned. "Okay, so I was a little slow about this. But I'm catching up," she impishly grinned.

Xander was not so enthusiastic. "But he's so --" he edged away from the Slayer's reach. "So -- mature."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed dreamily.

***

Fingers tapping impatiently, Giles waited for someone to answer the phone. What kind of hours were they keeping in Los Angeles anyway?

"Hello?"

Finally! "Wesley. Giles. Any news?"

The cryptic query was completely understood by both parties. Before the answer came Giles interpreted the sigh at the other end. Just in audio Wesley Wyndham-Price was easily readable.

"Sorry, Giles, nothing good. You know --" he cleared his throat in nervousness. "You know my father can be a tad -- difficult."

"I thought you had other allies on the Council."

Giles tried not to let the desperation color his tone. Wesley had turned out to be a good friend and an understanding collaborator in the fight against evil. And more importantly, in the battle against the establishment of the Watcher's Council. From the attitude of the younger ex-Watcher (California was getting crowded with their ilk!), it appeared that the ties between father and son were as strained as they had been between Rupert and his father. A Watcher trait? It had not been so for his great-grandparents -- but his great-grandparents were a Fated Connection. Not every family had that supernatural advantage. Perhaps to survive within a Watcher family the super powers had to intervene.

"I can't say with any amount of certainty, Rupert. Sorry. I am working on it."

"Thank you, Wesley. I'll be in touch. Oh and if --" he paused, not sure how much he should say. No need to alarm everyone, but his sense of dread was pressing closer with each day. If this Council matter did not resolve itself favorably -- in his favor -- then his days of healthy living in California were numbered. "Just -- if anything untoward should happen, please . . . ." He couldn't really put it into words.

"I understand," Wesley deeply promised. "I won't fail you, Rupert."

"I know you won't."

***

What to get the perfect slayer? Okay, not perfect -- perfect at slaying; at maddening behavior, stubbornness, headstrong -- ah, but it was such a lovely head, he sighed. He was so completely besotted it was ruining his brain. What a way to go.

He stopped at a fountain at the mall and stared at the spraying water. Traditionally one gave a loved one a ring to declare love. That seemed so prosaic for Buffy. She needed something special and unique, just like her. He strolled past a custom jewelry store and was caught by the silver cross in the display case. It reminded him of the Slayer/Watcher Celtic cross and Celtic knot that his great-grandfather and great grandmother -- another Fated Connection couple --had possessed. Those keepsakes no longer existed now that Arancor had reclaimed them. Ah, but that did not mean there could not be a copy of the meaningful necklace for Watcher and Slayer.

And what if -- when -- he declared his love? He couldn't keep it inside anymore, it was destroying his life to suffer with the secret. The timing was horrible -- what with the threats of the Council looming over his head. But life on the Hellmouth was never easy or safe. He had to speak to her soon. And with the profound declaration he had to include a token of his deep and committed love.

***

Part 4

A week later

The next date, Thursday night, he arranged to meet at his house. A bit of a show-off, he decided to cook and whipped up a decent stir-fry meal. Buffy was really impressed, admitting he WAS the domestic half of the team. After the meal she gave him presents, a CD of Frank Sinatra hits and the BEATLES PAST MASTERS CD with IMAGINE (I'll Get You -- the American title). Placing them in the player for him, she skipped to Black Magic, and insisted he coach her on dancing his style. Next time, she promised, she'd take him to a club more her style. For now, she admitted as she snuggled close, Sinatra would do just fine. Still holding in a dance clutch, Buffy skipped the CD to IMAGINE and insisted her talented Watcher sing while they danced. With an intoxicated giggle she admitted to being completely spoiled and loving it. Caught up in the dizzying moment, he admitted to reveling in spoiling her.

When the CD ended she kept her pose, staying close, swaying to their own music. Mutually reading each other's signals, she made the first move, stopped dancing and leaned up to kiss. The embrace, the kissing increased in passion and fervency until Giles finally gently, but firmly, broke it off.

"Buffy, I don't want to go too fast --"

She smothered him with a kiss. "Are you rejecting me?"

"I'm tempering you." He struggled out of another kiss. "I'm very much older than you. It's my responsibility to make sure this doesn't get out of hand."

Momentarily her eyes squinted with petulant irritation, her face clouded with displeasure. Then she settled down with a deep breath. "I am not innocent, Giles --"

Shortly, irritated at the needless reminder of her youthful inexperience, he flung back, "I'm not talking about sex, Buffy. I'm talking about experience, accountability and responsibility." Seeing her anger grow, he hurried on, forestalling a fight and clash of wills, soothing the rough contention with the tender love he felt for her. "We have something precious between us, Buffy," he whispered, holding her face in both his hands. "The Fated Connection is sacred and powerful. We have moved beyond the realm of the normal Watcher and Slayer relationship. If we continue on this path we will begin the completion of a Fated Connection, even without the dagger of Devoncor the effects are still powerful, and unknown. This is not to be started lightly. We must be committed. We must be ready."

Pulling away, her face was pale with emotions he couldn't define. Confusion between sober maturity and perplexed anxiety maybe. Perhaps a fool for stopping what might be inevitable, he could not in good conscience continue with an intimate relationship with her until they knew what they were doing. Until his Slayer clearly understood what it would mean. Once they committed to the Fated Connection there was no turning back. He was more than eager, but he had to be sure about her.

"I don't know if I'm ready." The quiet voice, the placid face, quickly took on building irritation. "For once can't I just have a normal relationship? Making out with someone I like?" Now anger and that all consuming dread that had been with her the past two weeks propelled her to continue with her tirade. "Why does it always have to be portents and mystical garbage and prophecy? Why can't it just be what we feel about each other?"

There was so much hostility in her words that he was taken aback by it. He could have addressed any of her questions, but he chose the one he hoped would serve as the best way to calm her, to assuage her insecurities and define his position. "What do we feel about each other, Buffy?"

The question stopped her cold.

"There should be no doubt on your part. My heart is no mystery to you. I love you completely, Buffy. I don't know how else to say it or show it. Well, perhaps I do." Gently taking her hand he led her up to the loft that served as his bedroom. Nervously he dug in his wardrobe and fished out a Celtic cross studded with sapphires, like the Celtic cross his great grandmother received on her wedding day -- the one now attached to the dagger of Arancor.

Asking her to sit on the bed, he dropped to one knee and placed the cross around her neck. Then he clasped her hands in his. "So you will never have any doubts, I pledge my love to you through this symbol of virtue, this emblem of my family. With my complete devotion and love, I ask you to marry me, Buffy. Not to complete the Fated Connection. Not because I am your Watcher. Because I love you with all my heart and want only to be with you and make you happy."

Gasping for breath, the constant dread that had been with her intensified to a fever pitch, her eyes pooled with tears. "I -- I don't know what to say."

Shaking, feeling his body grow cold, he realized he had made a terrible blunder. Too quick. Too much pressure to heap on her head. She was only twenty! How could a forty-year-old hope to win her, even given their complex history? Even with the Fated Connection?

"I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly. "I can't take that step yet. I'm afraid of . . . I . . . ."

Hardly able to speak, to breathe, he came to his feet and stepped away. "I -- uh -- of course -- I understand."

From the inner circle of the cross he took out the removable Celtic knot charm and put it around his neck. When she went to remove the cross he stopped her, telling her to keep it as a symbol of his love and devotion -- whether she ever married him or not he believed the cross should be hers.

At first she refused.

"I insist," he flatly, adamantly countered. He turned away, not able to look at her. "Think of it as -- a good luck charm." His voice was quiet and deep. "It will remind you I am always here to watch over you."

Without saying anything more she rushed away. In a moment she was out the door and gone. Too distraught to throw a fit of outrage, he numbly sat on the bed and stared at nothing. How could he have ruined everything like this?

*** Unsettled by Giles' proposal, she had come back to the dorm and taken refuge in bed, but sleep refused to come. When Willow had come in she found Buffy sitting on the bed, quietly weeping.

Willow came over sat on her bed. "You're crying."

Buffy wiped the tears away.

"What happened? Did Giles do something . . .?" The question trailed away, uncertain where she was going with it.

"Yes. He proposed." Buffy's tone indicated it was an insult, though she didn't really feel that way.

"And you're crying because?"

Buffy sighed. "I'm not ready, Wil. He should have known that."

Willow nodded. "Yeah. He loves you so much he should keep it to himself."

"Sarcasm at --" she consulted the clock "-- one-thirteen in the morning is not funny."

"What did you do?" At the glower, she amended the accusation. "I mean, how did you reject him? I mean, did you -- you didn't use violence, did you?"

"No, Wil, I didn't beat him up!" Buffy told her exasperated. "I just don't understand, why I feel this way?"

"What way?"

"I love Giles, I know that, but lately I've had these major wig outs about our relationship, and the Fated Connection."

"Do you know what's causing it?"

"No, all I know is that I just keep on hurting Giles." Buffy responded in frustration sliding down under the covers to sleep. "Night"

"Good Night" Willow said as she doused the lights and slipped into bed herself.

For awhile sleep eluded Buffy and through her bond with her Watcher she could still feel the hurt and unhappiness she'd caused him. Again. It seemed her destiny in life to continually bring pain to someone who loved her completely, without question, without reservation. She wondered at the strange streak of -- what -- evil? -- in her nature that could cause such misery to one so devoted to her. How could she slay vampires and demons and be afraid to commit herself to love? And why was she afraid of someone so giving and loving as Giles?

In her tryst with Angel and the college boys wasn't she always looking for the affection and acceptance she never received at home? More -- and more beyond the prophesy jazz and the mystic Slayer lore. She wanted love -- a real, mature, adult loving relationship. Didn't she? Giles offered it to her -- everything she could ever want in a partner -- and she rejected him.

Feeling sick from the pain she felt inside -- at what she had done, at what she felt and the confusing emotions roiling within, she sat up, wiping unwanted tears from her face. She didn't know what to do, but she couldn't go on like this. What did she feel for him? Did she really love Giles or was the attraction chemical? Was she being driven by more prophesies? Was her Fate never her own -- couldn't she even choose who to fall in love with? And did she really love him, or did she just feel devoted to him -- feel obligated to him because he was her mentor and friend and the sizzling other half of what was probably the Fated connection? With these tangled thoughts still rolling around in her head she fell into an uneasy sleep.

***

A pounding at the door woke him from a sound sleep. Disoriented for a moment, he glanced at the clock. Three AM. Who -- Buffy? Racing downstairs, he stopped just as he reached the front door, realizing suddenly that Buffy wouldn't need to knock on the door she would just use her key, especially in an emergency.

Cautious now, he decided to check through the window to get a glimpse of who might be there. Knowing he'd had, for a few weeks now, a dread of something dangerous in the wind, caution seemed prudent.

The pounding continued, but Giles stopped his forward movement towards the window, confused, for he felt a presence, familiar somehow. Whoever or whatever it was he knew he should understand what it wanted of him. But for some reason the entity, for that's what it felt like, was muted.

Reaching out with his mind he tried to define what he was happening to him. Concentrating on the subtle link to the being that seemed to be calling out to him he was so totally absorbed that he missed the door being slammed open and the men who poured into his apartment.

The first moment he was aware of anything, it was Quentin Travers who's countenance barely registered in his cognizance, before a fist slammed into his face. Dazed, fighting against the blackness, he felt blows land on his body as he flung out in blind resistance. Crashing into furniture, glasses gone, he struck out at the unfocused enemy, only to be pounded back, reeling from several blows to his head, and yet still feeling the tendril of that entity closer now. And then nothing.

***

Gasping, Buffy sat up in bed. Someone had called out to her in anguish. Something was wrong with Giles? She quickly got out of bed grabbing for the telephone and started dialing Giles' number. No answer.

"What are you doing"? a sleepy voiced roommate asked her.

Listening to the ringing she voiced her anxieties to Willow. "Something's wrong. It feels -- I don't know. Like before, when Giles was in danger."

Willow sat up, now worried. "You think he went out and did something stupid? No, we're talking Giles here."

Buffy dressed quickly in the first jeans and sweatshirt she could grab. "I'll call you from his house," Buffy promised and dashed out the door.

***

The kicked in door at Giles' apartment alerted Buffy that her instincts were unfortunately correct and she approached with caution. Inside the place was a wreck -- broken furniture, toppled chairs -- his glasses on the floor. Anguished, she searched the house. Running upstairs she saw his bed was still made.

Giles' phone rang and she grabbed it. "Hello."

"Hello, Miss Summers. Do you remember this voice?"

"Quentin Travers." The desperate feeling turned cold with horror. "What have you done with Giles?"

"Such a bright girl. What a waste you were assigned to this pathetic excuse for a Watcher. He's disgraced his family, his oath, his kind."

Forcing herself to think like the Slayer she was and not an emotional wreck, her voice was cold. "What do you want?"

"As you've correctly surmised, I have Rupert. For some reason that means something to you, and that's what I'm hoping for. If you cooperate, he lives. Any thing you do wrong and he will pay. With a great deal of pain. Do you understand."

Gritting her teeth, she swallowed a scream of frustration. "No, I don't."

"You have a history of rebellion, girl. If you cross me, if you try running away again Giles is dead. Is that clearer?"

The enemies were not supernatural anymore. "You're beasts! You call yourself human? I've killed better than you!"

Travers laughed. "You're such a impudent little mite, aren't you? No wonder you have bewitched poor Rupert. You must remind him of his wild days at Oxford."

He told her to go to Giles' computer. Obeying, she was instructed to click on the internet connect and she would be given access to a private website. When the screen flipped on she cried out. A fuzzy picture revealed a head-bowed Giles -- bloody, torn, bound to a chair -- in front of the camera. The close up gave her graphic details of the struggle that was so evident here at the house. Biting her lip, she cringed when someone grabbed Giles' hair and shook his head until he woke up.

"Giles!"

Trying to focus on her voice, he blinked at the screen. "Buffy?"

At a loss as to what to say, she groaned in misery. "Giles," she whispered.

There was so much she wanted to say now that it was too late. Like she always did, she rejected and hurt the ones closest to her. She had ruined everything, probably set him up to be killed. Destroyed everything. And with alarming clarity she understood that he was everything to her. And she would do anything to save him.

"Giles, let me know you're all right." Without giving anything away, she tried to keep her voice calm and steady. Let Giles know she was strong, she was there for him. Let Travers think whatever he liked. "Talk to me."

Wretched at what her rash emotions had caused, she wanted to tell him how stupid she had been to refuse him. How much she really did love him. Such confessions, out loud, would undermine their already precarious position and she tried to infuse her tone, her face, with the passions she felt.

Staring at her, those incredibly deep green eyes blinked. A very slight twitch at his lips, a wink, let her know he was in tune with her. More than the subtle expression was the feeling she was now receiving from him via their link of the Fated Connection. A powerful strain of hope. Giles was not giving up and he didn't want her to, either.

"What do you want, Travers?"

"Whatever it is don't do it --" A fist came from the side and punched Giles in the face.

"No!" she screamed. "Leave him alone! If you want my cooperation you leave him alone!" Maybe it was stupid to be so obvious, but the helpless Slayer couldn't stand the violence against her unprotected Watcher. Right now they were at a disadvantage. She would change that as soon as she could, but until then she wanted her Watcher in one piece. "What do you want?"

Some unseen person righted Giles and he was propped up in front of the screen. He seemed barely conscious and in pain. In a show of silent support she touched the screen, hoping that through their shared bond he would feel her actions. With the unswollen eye, Giles gave her a wink.

"What do you think we want?" came Travers off-screen voice. "We want control over you. The way it should have been from the beginning. The way to accomplish that is to remove Giles. He fell in love with you and let you run wild so -- the Council -- has no control over either of you. That must never happen again."

Hot Slayer blood bubbled in anger and she lashed out at the heinous enemy. In a ragged rasp she threatened him. "Let him go or I'll make you pay, Travers. And don't think I can't!"

Giles' theory about their assignment together was right -- both she and Giles had been written off as losers -- failures destined to die quickly on the Hellmouth. The Council had WANTED them to fail. But the Council themselves needed to acknowledge the truth; how they had failed instead. They had lost sight of what they should be -- the guardians of Slayers who fight evil. Now they were just a bunch of old men and women trying to justify their own importance. She and Giles were the ones trying to save the world!

The camera tilted and Travers' snarling face came into an extreme close up view. "A very pretty little speech, Slayer. It changes nothing! Right now Giles is under a death sentence for his betrayal of the Council. He has known his duty since he was a child. At Oxford he turned against us, but his family ties -- his grandmother and her damned Fated Connection -- kept him in the Council because of bloodlines! Well, the Guardians of Tandoor are finally going to straighten out the mess the Council has fallen into. No longer will Slayers and Watchers be allowed to run wild nor will they be allowed to join together in anymore Fated Connections. You two shall be the last to succumb to that sorcery."

The camera went back to the battered Watcher. Giles had listened closely to Travers little tirade. Now at least they knew who they were fighting. The secret organization that Watson had mentioned and that Wesley had heard rumors about had come out into the open . The Guardians of Tandoor, who and what they wanted would be learned soon. The frightening aspect of Travers' announcing their intentions though could only mean they felt they had enough power and backing to take over the council.

"Now, Buffy as long as you do as I say, your Watcher will stay alive," Travers assured her. "And all you have to do is your job as Slayer, the way it is suppose to be done. "

"How long?"

"How long does a Slayer live?"

Ah, now she understood what he wanted of her. Whenever her inevitable death came, the Fated Connection would be broken because she and Giles would never be allowed anywhere near each other again. Travers and his little cult would have once again corrupted any chance of a Fated Connection completely forming. She and her Watcher had thwarted Travers and his group recently when they had defeated the griffin, thereby breaking the original curse. Now they would be held hostage to be sure that they too would end up as all the Watchers and Slayers had before them: dead. Separated by death without having fully completed their predestined union.

Through their psychic link Buffy felt Giles rebel at that condition. To what she wasn't sure. The imprisonment? The fact that their connection would never be complete? Her inevitable death? Yes -- that was it and he was going to do something stupid -- destructive -- to save her.

"Giles, you have to promise me something."

This might damage them, give some advantage to Travers, but it might save Giles' life. It was worth the risk. Anything was worth risking to save him. She didn't need to voice what she wanted. They understood each other too well. For some reason at this crucial time they were more connected to each now in crisis than any other time since they had first made contact via their bond. She demanded his solemn oath that he would not do anything destructive.

Giles' eyes aching with pain, she sensed more than saw her message was loud and clear to him. Thankful for the connection they shared. No matter what happened to her he would do whatever he had to do to live.

"Promise!" She sent him a silent plea, but he would not give in. She sought for his understanding. "I have to watch out for you, too."

If she could not get cooperation from him she would force it from another angle. "Travers. I want a promise from you, this time. If I fulfill my duties to you as a Slayer, and do as you ask, Giles will be released."

"No," Giles refused.

Someone reached behind him and he cried out in a surprised yelp, then gritted his teeth. "No," he muttered. "Don't cooperate, Buffy!"

"Promise he'll live even if I don't."

"If you give me Arancor, I'll agree." Travers riposted.

Buffy had wondered when he would get around to that. She saw the devastation of Giles' apartment all around her, some of it had been the fight, but Travers and his men had also been looking for her sacred dagger. "Arancor? I don't have it." That technically wasn't a lie she didn't have it on her.

"Don't play with me, Slayer, Rupert didn't have it, so you must have it."

"I don't --" before Buffy could even finish a denial, Travers gestured to one of his men, who grabbed one of Giles' bound arms. "Break it."

"No! I'll tell --"

"She doesn't know where it is, you pillock,." Giles rasped in pain, interrupting Buffy's words.

Travers turned to look at his captive. "Ah, Rupert, so you secreted it away yourself, did you. Where?"

"Go to hell!"

"Very well," Travers gestured again and the other man started to twist his arm.

"No, Giles please!" Buffy shouted in fear. She could feel his pain through their link. She couldn't let him suffer like that. The only thing she could do was give up Arancor to Travers. Before she could speak, she heard Giles agree to what Travers wanted. What was her Watcher up too? He had to know she had the dagger.

"Well, Rupert?"

"I gave it to Angel."

"Who?"

"You'd know him better as Angelus, I believe."

Travers was livid. "You gave the sacred dagger of Arancor to a vampire?"

"Thought it better than your lot getting their hands on it." Giles smirked at the other Watcher. "Good luck in trying to get it away from him."

Travers hit him across the face, then turned back towards Buffy, his anger at being out maneuvered by Giles plain on his face. "Buffy, our conversation is at an end." He rubbed his hand, obviously stinging from the vicious blow to the helpless Watcher. "A new Watcher will be with you tomorrow. You will obey her every rule or Rupert will suffer the consequences, do you understand?"

He was not obligated to treat Giles in a humane manner at all. Giles' health and safety depended on her submitting to his wishes.

Reluctantly she agreed. "Yes I understand." Both she and Giles knew Travers wouldn't keep his promise, but they had no choice now. She had to play along until she could come up with a workable plan to save Giles. As a final clause she insisted on seeing him every day to make sure he was okay. Travers agreed to visual contact, but only weekly. Then Giles was taken away, sending her a last wink, a warm sense of strength and love through their link. The signal went dead. Buffy's face dropped into her arm and with her fist she pounded the desk as she wept.

***

Giles came back to consciousness slowly and in pain. He tried to shift his aching body, to get a more comfortable position and found he was still bound to a chair. He glanced about his surroundings noticing that he had been placed in a room-like cell. There was a small cot, table, with a lamp that was lit. He could see a small washroom off to the side. If he twisted around a bit he could see that there were bars on the windows and those windows had been boarded up.

He had no idea how long he had been unconscious or even if it was the same day he had been taken. He didn't want to think about Buffy -- what she was going through now. He had wanted her to disregard Travers' dictates, but he knew she wouldn't do that. She loved him, he knew that, actually her love for him, as was his love for her was never in doubt. Buffy just wasn't ready to accept the Fated Connection as easily as he had. He could understand her reticence. To consummate the power of the connection was to give yourself over completely to another person.

Giles reached out with his senses, trying to establish his link with Buffy. She was there just at the edges of his mind -- he could feel her -- but it was as if he sensed her through a fog. Most likely Travers had placed some type of binding spell around him. Whatever spell Travers had created to break the contact between he and his Slayer was effective, but not completely, because, there was Buffy at the edge of his mind. Either Travers had been sloppy or had deliberately left just enough of a connection to torture them. Buffy being able to know he was still alive but unable to use there link to find where Travers and his men were hiding him.

In this situation the irony escaped him, but he found black humor that Travers was now using magic to fight he and his Slayer. Travers so condemningly attacked him for his wizardry in his Oxford days, yet the dark master of Tandoor felt justified in using it for his own ends!

Giles groaned in frustration. The entire situation was ridiculous and maddening! Concentrating he tried to clear his head of the pain that was washing through him from his beating, hoping to enhance what was still there of the connection. Instead of linking more strongly with his Slayer he instead found he had reconnected with the entity he had felt during the attack at his home. He reached out to the essence that had made contact with him. And he now understood what it was... Devoncor! He had realized the moment he had lost consciousness that that was the presence he had felt calling to him. What a surprise to find that Travers had possession of his dagger. For that now was what Devoncor was, his dagger, just as Arancor had become Buffy's.

He wondered if Travers comprehended the blunder he may have unknowingly committed. To have allowed Devoncor to be this close to him now that the dagger was calling to it's rightful owner. Giles quivered with anticipation. He could sense the approach of his weapon. Was this how Buffy felt, when she was near Arancor?

Giles heard a key turn in the lock of the door and Travers entered the room. "Well, Rupert, see where you're constant rebellion has gotten you?"

"Oh, stuff it Quentin." Giles said acidly.

"Charming colloquialism, you really have been around that Slayer of yours for too long. And by the way, if you are attempting to contact your Miss Summers from here, don't bother." Travers informed Giles superciliously.

"What do you mean?"

"No matter how hard you try you will not be able to communicate with your Slayer from here. The Guardians of Tandoor have protected Devoncor for eight hundred years --"

"I doubt that's what Devoncor would call it." Giles muttered in disgust.

Travers continued as if there hadn't been any interruption from the prisoner. ". . . and over many centuries we have learned how to negate the powers of the link through a spell." He smugly observed the bound man. "Under my tutelage it appears as if your Slayer is finally going to comport herself as a Slayer should. "

So it wasn't sloppiness. Giles looked up in surprise at Travers. Didn't the man realize that whatever spell he had put on the Watcher and Slayer hadn't been totally effective? Giles could still feel the link, peripherally it was true but still there, was it because Devoncor had been close to him? Or had things changed, when Buffy and he had defeated the griffin, as Angel had hypothesized. Had Devoncor finally been freed. Giles snorted in derision not willing to let that slur on Buffy pass. "My Slayer, Travers, has always been the best. She has survived longer then almost any other Slayer, no matter what obstacles you and the Council threw in her way!"

"She is undisciplined, unpredictable and disinclined to follow the rules set down for centuries."

"That's why she has survived so long." Giles taunted the other man. "Because she follows her heart and instinct and not a lot of drivel from a book that is centuries out of date."

"Yes, because she had an unfit Watcher who let her do as she pleased, but not anymore. She's under my control now, and has been for longer then you realize. "

"What do you mean?"

"Your Slayer hasn't been able to commit to you has she Rupert? Even with the accursed Fated Connection and the powers of Arancor, she hesitates." Travers related gleefully. "All because I have able to use Devoncor to control her enough for her to waver in her commitment to you."

Giles was now beginning to understand, happily, that Buffy's uncertainty had more to do with Travers sorcery than her rejection of him. Maybe it was time to begin to turn the tables on Travers and use Devoncor against him. Reaching out with his mind, Giles concentrated and very easily connected with his dagger. The close proximity of the weapon made the link effortless. He called to it, asking that it come to him. Thirty seconds passed as he focused on his Devoncor and then he saw that Travers began to look uncomfortable as if some live creature was stuck in his jacket pocket.

"What?" Travers seemed confused as it he couldn't quite understand what was happening.

"It's not yours anymore is it Travers?" Giles grinned ferally. "Even now I can feel it's call, calling to me as I summon it, to come to it's true heir."

"You have know idea of the power this blade can wield and you'll never know". Travers promised Giles as he exited the room in a hurry.

Travers closed the door behind him and signaling to the man on duty to be vigilant he walked quickly down the hall and pulled Devoncor out of his inner pocket. The dagger had been reacting in a totally unfamiliar way ever since he had come into the prisoner's room. The blade burned his hand and he was forced to drop it. As the blade hit the floor, he stared in horror at the change that had once again taken over Devoncor. The ruby drop of blood had turned into a brilliant blue star sapphire. As he watched the sapphire faded back to the ruby red color that he had always known. Travers picked up the dagger gingerly, knowing it would allow him to, now, but the dagger had responded to it's true inheritor, Rupert Giles, and in a way never seen before. That frightened the Watcher. For Travers hadn't been lying when he had told the other Watcher that he didn't even realize the power of the daggers of Devoncor and Arancor and seeing what had just occurred, Travers wasn't sure anyone knew what power the two daggers possessed.

***

Part 5

One week later

"Very good, Buffy. Next time, though, let's dispense with the dialog. Just kill the beasts. That is your job."

The crisp British accent rang flatly against the gravestones of the foggy, cool cemetery. As usual, Buffy ignored the watchdog hounding her through the grassy plots. Even if the situation with Ms Kettering had been legitimate, Buffy would have hated her. Young, athletic, traditional, she was what the Slayer imagined as a cookie-cutter Watcher product of Travers' school of idiots. Even without Giles in danger she would have rejected Kettering. Because this -- creature -- was trying to replace Giles, Buffy hated her with an animosity she did not even know she was capable of feeling.

"Plunge, move on, yeah I got it," Buffy answered sarcastically. Though the addendum did bring back sweet memories of the early days with Giles and his trying to shape her into the Slayer mold, it was a bittersweet thought.

For nearly a week Buffy had played along with this extortion. She had done her job -- well, too -- she silently congratulated herself. Slaying, killing and taking no prisoners in the demon community. Contact with her friends had been her only comfort, her only source of normalcy in a Hellmouth world gone insanely intolerable. Even supervised contact was better than nothing, and in the very brief phone calls and visits she had bleakly told her friends of Giles' imprisonment and her unwilling cooperation with the enemy. Her communications with Xander, Willow and Oz were not long enough for any of them to form any kind of rescue plan. So Buffy had come up with the idea of visiting her Mother as frequently as possible.

Kettering had not been able to object to her seeing her Mother, for as far as the Watcher knew, Joyce was unaware of Buffy's true calling. And Buffy patiently explained to the Watcher her Mother would have found it odd if her daughter had not visited with her. Or that's what Buffy had convinced Kettering. Even if Kettering reported these visits to Travers, she was hoping he was unaware of her Mother's knowledge of slaying or didn't recall it. Considering his cavalier attitude regarding her Mother during the Cruciamentum she suspected he didn't even remember.

Her Mother had been more then willing to help her when she had found out what was going on . So Buffy arranged for Joyce to contact Wesley. Loath to admit it in normal circumstances, now Buffy readily declared she needed a Watcher's help and guidance. Who would have thought that, Buffy smiled inwardly at the irony of that turnaround. In researching more about her dagger and the powers it was capable of, Wes was a solid ally. Kettering may have had her studying extensive demonology, but had been sure to keep her away from any references to the daggers. That just proved how little the mainstream Watchers understood the Sunnydale Slayer.

To make matters worse, Arancor was calling to her. Just as the dagger had impelled her to conceal it, now it called urgently for her to retrieve it. She couldn't very well go traipsing after Arancor with Kettering hanging about. Possibly she might have Wesley and Xander go get it for her. It would take there combined strength to move the stone slab she had secreted it under. She knew she would need her weapon for whatever was to come.

Buffy got out of the car with Ms Kettering following. She had agreed to drop Buffy off at the house but was unwilling to let her walk even to her Mother's door unescorted. Reaching the door, it opened and her Mother greeted her happily.

"Buffy, I'm glad your here." Joyce turned and looked at the other woman. "Ms Kettering would you like to join us?"

"No thank you, Mrs. Summers, I was just dropping Buffy off," Kettering responded with a cold smile, turning and leaving the two women alone on the porch. Joyce watched as the Watcher got into the car and drove off. Both Buffy and her mother knew the woman wasn't far away. Buffy had explained all to her mother the night before when she had first visited. The Watcher waited just down the street for Buffy to leave her Mother's house so she could pick her up.

"Keeping me under her thumb is her main objective." Buffy commented bitterly.

"Buffy, I'm sorry," Joyce told her walking back into the house. "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

Following her mother into the house Buffy answered her question. "No, thanks, Mom, you're already doing it and I really appreciate it. I know Giles will too." Buffy gave her mother a hug, not only to reassure them both.

"Have you heard anything more from Rupert?"

"I'd like to know that answer as well." Wesley inquired coming out of the shadows of the darkened dining room.

"Wes, I'm so glad to see you," Buffy smiled, greeting the former Watcher with a sincerely warm hug. "I really need your help."

"Buffy, anything I can do to help you and Giles." Wes reassured her. "Also Angel sends his regards and offers of any help as well."

"It may come to that." Buffy told him. The three walked into the Summers living room and sat down. Buffy sat on the couch next to her Mother while Wesley sat in the chair opposite them.

"Did my Mother tell you what's happened?"

"Yes, she filled me in, though I have to say I'm not surprised by it."

"Why?"

"The Watcher's Council is in upheaval at the moment. Rupert and I were both aware that things were not going well for our side. He was worried something might happen, inordinately so I thought."

"He knew this would happen, that he would be taken?" Joyce asked curiously

"No, not necessarily this, I think he was expecting to be killed not kidnapped."

Buffy ground her teeth in frustration. "Why didn't he say something to me, so we could have prepared ourselves to prevent it?"

"Buffy, I am really not sure that Rupert knew what was going to happen. He just told me that he had been feeling a sense of unease, dread. He wasn't sure what it might be and he was concerned about you Buffy, that if something did happen to him . . . ." Wesley shrugged, not willing to go into detail.

"Giles also asked us to witness his will." A female voice volunteered from the kitchen door interrupting what Wesley was going to say.

Buffy looked up and saw Willow, with Oz and Xander. "Hey, guys, it's great to see you without the prying eyes. What did you mean about Giles' will?"

The newcomers joined the others in the living room. Oz answered Buffy's question. "He was concerned that something was going to happen, he did give us some song and dance about the Hellmouth and being a Watcher, but I really thought he felt something was wrong."

"Yeah and whatever it was, he was really wigged about it." Willow added.

Buffy sighed ruefully. "Well, he was right to be wigged, look where we are now." Buffy also understood Giles sense of dread. Hadn't she been feeling it too? So much so that she had buried Arancor. "Wesley, I need you and Xander to do something for me."

"Anything, Buffy, you know that." Wesley told her and Xander agreed.

"Okay, this may sound very strange, but a few weeks ago I buried Arancor."

"What's an Arancor?" Xander piped in.

"It's her dagger." Willow told him.

"Buffy's naming her weapons now? Other then Mr. Pointy that is."

Buffy grinned at Xander's comment. "I'm sorry Xan, you and Oz don't know much about some of the things that have been going on lately. Will can bring you up to speed after I leave. Kettering won't give me much time here, believe me."

Wesley steered the conversation back to Buffy's earlier statement. "Actually, Buffy it doesn't sound strange. I believe your dagger has been reacting to events that have been occurring. From what Giles and I had been able to learn recently the two daggers react very strongly to events around them, and in turn make their possessor react too."

"So Arancor was warning me of trouble to come?"

"Very possibly, but there are so many things we don't understand in regards to the weapons," Wesley admitted, revealing his own shared frustrated. "So much has been lost or hidden for so many centuries."

"Wes just tell me some of the things that you and Giles learned recently, information he wasn't able to pass on to me before he was abducted." Buffy requested of the other Watcher as she searched her mother's desk for paper. "While I draw you and Xander a map where to find Arancor. It will take both of you to fetch it because I buried it under a heavy rock."

"Not much time left, Buffy," her mother reminded her.

"Yeah, I know. Mom, Kettering, the barracuda will expect me out the door soon and if I'm not there she'll come looking for me and we don't want that."

"Yeah, she might take it into her head to curtail any more of visits at your mom's house." Willow speculated.

"No might about Will." Buffy stated emphatically. "I'm actually surprised she let's me talk to you and Xander at all."

***

The next day, as promised, Wesley drove out to the old monastery with Xander. Buffy and Wesley had decided the best course of action regarding her dagger was for Wesley to take it back to LA so he and Angel could guard Arancor until she needed it. They had no desire for Travers and his little group to get their hands on it. Besides, Buffy thought it would be nicely ironic if Angel did actually have the weapon with him in LA as Giles had so cunningly told Travers earlier when he was trying to protect her and the dagger.

The sound of the ocean could be heard, but a heavy mist lay over the area, covering the ocean below them, lending the feeling of isolation and mystery to the errand. For a moment they surveyed the landscape that was now eerily covered in thick fog. A dampness seemed to pervade the spot as if a pall permeated this sacred ruin.

Wesley consulted the map Buffy had given him. It took the two men a few minutes to orient themselves and find the main altar stone. Xander headed right to where the Slayer had told them she had hidden Arancor. The two men were silent as they quickly dug out the altar. Even Xander, who Wesley knew was quite loquacious, refrained from making any quips. Probably the effects of the eerieness surrounding them. Wesley himself found the ambiance quite oppressive. Having dug low enough they reached the slab Buffy had told them about and struggled to remove it, but it wouldn't budge. They tried a second time and then a third.

Sitting back for a moment against the altar stone, Wesley commented breathlessly, "I think we're going to need Angel for this."

Xander reluctantly agreed. "Fraid so."

Both looked at each other and then once again attempted to move the slab. This time it gave, little by little, until they had it completely removed. They sighed when they spotted the box hidden beneath the stone. Wesley grabbed the case and opening it, Wesley slowly withdrew the weapon from the case. Even in the fog, which oddly enough began to slowly lift, the dagger glistened brightly.

"Wow!"

Wesley smiled at Xander, who had never seen the weapon before. He understood the reaction. Wesley had felt the same way when he had first been handed the weapon by Giles. "Wow indeed!"

***

Kettering, at first completely antagonistic toward her, now several weeks into training, had few criticisms. Well, few that were even close to being real. Although Kettering had come here as her antagonistic keeper the British woman had grown to grudgingly respect the Slayer. That was little comfort. Her real goal was to keep Giles alive long enough to free him from Travers.

Part B of the plan was still a little slow in coming, it was forming, but not quite ready for execution. She planned to test something in that direction tonight. She first needed to find out if Kettering was any good at this job. Also she needed to do something a little reckless because she knew that Travers would be expecting it. Once she had pulled something on him and his trained Watcher she suspected he would be more inclined to let his guard down and not expect anything to happen again too soon.

Plan A was plain and simple -- make sure Giles was still alive. Something she checked every night before leaving for patrol through there link, even if it was just a slight connection at the moment.

Slayer power was a lot different in the misty night of a graveyard than in a dusty Watcher report as Kettering had been learning. Tonight Buffy would be showing her how different field work could be.

Using pagers, she had transmitted messages to Willow and Xander. By now they were set up. All they needed was bait for the trap. The pager on her waist buzzed and Buffy shut it off. She hissed to Kettering that she spotted another vamp and she dashed through the shrouded grounds, the slower Watcher behind. As Buffy ran through a narrow path between crypts she barely missed being snagged by two vamps, then ran into some thick bushes. Kettering was not so lucky. She literally ran into one, knocking both of them to the ground. It would have been amusing in other circumstances, but this was a deadly game.

Behind Buffy, Xander and Willow crashed and thrashed as if in a fierce battle, as if Buffy herself were fighting vampires as well. A little guiltily, Buffy listened to the battle on the lawn, then she thought of what Giles was going through and didn't feel quite so bad.

Several yelps of pain came through the thicket, then nothing. She motioned for the others to stay still and she cautiously crept through the bushes. She gasped when she saw Kettering standing near a crypt dusting herself off. She was scraped but otherwise fine. Damn.

"Surprised?" the woman snapped, her narrow eyes cutting through the Slayer.

Buffy drew in a breath. "No," she flubbed. "You're supposed to be a Watcher, right? Watchers are supposed to fight. Not just train. I'm only -- surprised -- cause you don't have much -- experience."

Kettering turned from her and briskly walked toward the car. "I fear you are in store for more surprises, Slayer. You obviously don't have any experience in dealing with real Watchers."

The pronouncement boded ill. Buffy remembered enough sketchy details from her old high school science classes that for any action there is always a reaction. In this case she was hoping that Kettering would just report this to Travers as she had always made reports to him. Her concern turned to alarm when Kettering went to the computer and initiated a visual link with Travers' web site. Quentin came into view and before Buffy could stop her, Kettering explained the vampire trap in the cemetery. Buffy shouted refusals and denials, but clearly the evil Watchers had seen through the little ploy to kill off the wretched woman.

At the end of the explanation Travers, surprisingly, left without comment. A moment later an unshaven Giles was placed in front of the camera. Buffy's skin chilled. Without an explanation, or even a wordy threat, a blur from off-screen was seen briefly, and Giles screamed.

"Stop!" Buffy demanded.

Giles had fallen from the seat in front of the computer. Two sets of strong arms pulled him back so Buffy could see him cringing in agony, holding onto his left arm.

"I told you Giles would pay for your disobedience, Buffy. Do you have trouble remembering these important little details?" came Travers' off-camera voice. "Shall I break his other arm?"

"No!" She shook in anger, in livid helplessness. They were punishing her powerless Watcher. 'Giles forgive me,' Buffy silently prayed. 'I'm sorry it was the only way to get them off my track for a bit.' "Leave him alone!"

"Fight, Buffy!" Giles countered hoarsely. Someone knocked him on the side of the face and his nose bled. "Don't give in!" This time he was hit so hard he fell to the floor again.

"I will get you back for this, Travers." Buffy vowed between clenched teeth. Sooner then you think!

"I doubt that seriously, little lady. I do, however, retain your former Watcher. Please remember that in future. Any more disobedience from you and I might start inflicting serious damage. Time you learned to understand how the rules work."

The connection went black. Kettering switched off the computer. "Time for bed, Buffy. We have a special training session tomorrow. I want to take you through the paces of your demon mythology --"

Icy, horrified, stunned, Buffy could hardly regulate her breathing to normal. Fighting to appear as ruthless and cold as her captors, she constrained her voice to be flat and emotionless. She would never, ever let them know how much she was crying inside. "I have to prepare for a test on Monday."

"You needn't worry about that," the woman sharply assured. "You aren't going back to school."

A gasp of surprise escaped her, then she was back in complete, frosty control.

At Buffy's clear, if momentary outrage, she smiled, then crisply explained, "Slayer's have no need for what passes for rudimentary education here in California. You are sadly lacking in the vital knowledge you need in your vocation. Giles spoiled you, girl. He made you dependent on him. Typical male. Well, you have to stand on your own now."

More than anything Buffy wanted to strangle the enraging woman. She wanted to scream at the injustice of Giles punished for allowing her to be human and have some kind of life beyond slaying. Bitterly remorseful for her many tirades against her princely Watcher, she knew more than ever before how incredible he was, how much she missed him. More than that, how much he loved her and how much she loved him.

Biting back the bitter curses on her tongue, she went up to the loft to get ready for bed. They had adopted Giles' apartment as their domain. Kettering slept on the couch -- a sentry for the recalcitrant Slayer -- as if Buffy would do anything so extreme as sneak away and leave Giles at their merciless hands! She plopped down on the bed and wanted to cry. She wouldn't give Kettering the satisfaction. Instead she picked up the phone to call Willow. In brief, cryptic words she would reveal something of her misery. It was the only outlet she had.

Angry that the phone was dead, she slammed on the button a few times. Sensing Kettering behind her, she looked at the woman. "What do you want?"

"Socializing is distracting, Buffy. There will be no more contact with you and your little friends. You are here on the Hellmouth to slay --"

"I have a life! You can't rob me of my friends!"

Her pale blue eyes cold, Kettering folded her arms in triumphant superiority. "Shall I call Travers back? Twice in one night? That ought to be good for more than just another broken arm for your dear former Watcher."

Clenching her fists, Buffy used all her willpower to not destroy this creature instantly. It would be so easy -- down the stairs -- She abruptly stopped the delightful, vengeful fantasy. It might relieve her anger, but it would hurt Giles -- possibly kill him.

Buffy threw herself on the bed and put a pillow over her head. "Go away."

"I'll wake you up promptly at Six AM. Good night."

Closing her eyes, she allowed the silent tears to seep through her closed lids and dampen the pillow -- Giles' pillow. She had been prophetic in thinking that Kettering would probably cut off her connections to her friends, the only things that were keeping her going now. Loneliness had never been so encompassing. It was a strange, comforting, painful experience to be living here in his apartment, to be lying in his bed, and be without him. When would the nightmare end? Only when she found a way to end it. That would have to be soon.

***

Part 6

Three days later

Unable to sleep, his broken arm adding pain to his emotional stress, Giles paced the small confines of his narrow, bleak room. In a petty display of his usual arrogance Travers chose not to set and cast his arm, but left it bare. Giles had managed to rip some of his shirt and at least wrap the swollen, hot, throbbing arm. It offered little beyond psychological protection. Travers, ironically, had made sure that Giles had toiletries in the bathroom and even included an electric razor, but wasn't willing to give him a change of clothes or repair his damaged arm.

With no window he had no idea what day it was, what time it was. He sensed it was night. He was always most restless at night and he believed it to be sympathetic impressions from Buffy on patrol. Commonly he felt uneasy and on edge when she was out facing death and he was safely inside. Now, as a prisoner, instead of back at his apartment wondering if tonight was the night she would never return.

He lay back down on his bed again, trying to calm himself, rest, conserve energy and strength. It wouldn't do him any good to be unable to leave this prison, under his own power, when Buffy and the others found a way to get him out. He knew they would.

So he tried to relax and focus his thoughts on searching out and connecting with Devoncor. He now knew that Travers had his weapon and it was somewhere in the building with the other Watcher. It took him only a few moments to make the link. Each time he had tried it, it became easier and quicker. This wasn't the first time he had joined with his dagger since he had been held prisoner. He couldn't communicate with Buffy, except for the slight sense of her he had been feeling since his captivity. So instead he had begun to create a bond with Devoncor, a link that he knew brought him closer to Buffy, and also began to give him more authority over Devoncor. A power he knew he may have need of in the future.

***

Buffy followed the rules as best she could after that painful night Giles' arm was broken. Days passed in a numbing blur of reluctant imprisonment. She learned about demons, trained relentlessly, and at night decimated the local creature population. It was her most ardent outlet and she attacked the undead and inhuman with enraged zeal.

On the academic side Giles would be proud to know she could name off creatures and undead characteristics like a Watcher. The cram sessions had actually helped last night when a Dorlock demon -- a big guy with a ridged back -- tried to cook her on an open fire in the woods. A tramp had not been so lucky. If she hadn't read up on the repulsive carnivores, she never would have known Dorlocks eat only freshly cooked meat. And they can be killed by any sharp object into any of their three eyes.

Willow and Xander had come by twice to see her, and both times they had been repulsed by Kettering. Without giving specific instructions, she knew her Scooby gang were working for her on their own. She also knew that they had been working with Wesley. At least her visits to her Mother had not been totally curtailed -- that was one thing Kettering could not prevent and so it gave Buffy the chance to stay in contact with everyone as needed.

Like Giles, she had discovered that her link to him was quite weak, similar to seeing him through a fog -- another spell from Travers little group no doubt. Giles was still alive, though, which was the most important thing, but that was all she could fathom.

There was no way for her to test a theory she had that Giles was still close. Their connection had been growing stronger and recently it had increased exponentially before he was taken. She had finally figured out why. Devoncor had been close and somehow it had been broadcasting through Giles. That explained Arancor's now frantic calls to retrieve it.

And it made sense that Travers would want to have Giles nearby to exact tight control over both of their captives. England would be too far away for this kind of manipulative game. And she knew Travers wanted her dagger. A matched set.

Occasionally she wondered if the Council really had any idea what Travers, was up too. Wesley had said that the Council itself was in the throws of a major upheaval, but that didn't really concern her much. Saving Giles was her top priority. They could deal with motivations and all the deep plots later. She had finally realized how she could find Giles spell or no spell. Plan B was about to come to fruition.

***

After the failed assassination of Kettering, Willow knew there would be trouble. When contact with Buffy was cut off except the occasional forays to her Mother's house, the computer whiz started her own plan of attack. She started researching the history of Council, it's members and internal politics.

It was easier than she thought. Amazing how many underground conspiracy-buster sites were on the internet. She was also in contact constantly with another disaffected radical ex-Watcher -- Wesley. He helpfully informed her of an old friend of Giles' who was sympathetic.

Willow found Hamish Watson via email. In cryptic messages that Wesley helped interpret, she learned Watson and others were in a fight within the Council. Wes supplied some of the details that Watson could not. An inner, extremist group within the Watchers was vying for control with their own agenda -- Travers' group. The old line leaders, including Giles' and Wyndham-Price's families, were trying to hold onto the traditional authority. Perhaps getting Buffy from under Travers' power would help sway the balance, but that couldn't happen until they freed Giles.

The most positive news was that Watson was certain Giles was still in California, close to Buffy, so Travers could control them both. Because Travers was not in England -- others working with him were -- that seemed proof he was here to personally oversee the rebellious Slayer and Watcher. Which meant the real power WAS Buffy and Giles! That knowledge gave the Scoobys a hold over Travers. If only Willow could figure out how she could use it effectively to help her friends.

Meanwhile, Willow was still trying to trace the private email line to find out where they were keeping Giles. It hadn't taken her long to realize that the Watchers had put up a spell that completely hid their whereabouts. Willow had tried to use her magic to find them or somehow break the spell, but soon came to the conclusion that she was just not strong enough as a Wiccan yet to disrupt the hex cast by Travers. If Giles were here with her it would be a piece of cake, but now she had to do it on her own.

Xander and Oz, not to be idle, were working on a plot of their own. Only days after their aborted attempt to trap Kettering, Oz's Dingo van was stopped on the side of the road near the woods. The hood was up and Oz and Xander were looking at the engine. In their hands were wooden stakes just in case they attracted the attention of the prey and not the hunter.

Nearly One AM -- crashing noises in the brush alerted them. It took all their nerve to not run into the safety of the van. They held their ground as a vampire broke through the foliage and rushed toward them. Before he was even close he shattered into countless bits of ash that drifted to the ground.

"Kinda dangerous to be out here so late," Buffy's voice advised. A moment later she came through the trees and gasped, recognizing the van. Quickly closing the distance she grabbed onto her friends. "This is a bad part of town. There's a Dorlock demon --"

"We came to contact you," Xander interrupted. "Willow thinks Giles is somewhere nearby, probably still in Sunnydale. She wants you to know we're trying to find him --"

"No," Buffy snapped in hiss. She looked over her shoulder. "Kettering is back at the cemetery. I only have a few minutes. You can't try a commando raid --"

"If we find him, Buffy, it will be all of us, including Angel and Wesley --"

"And if it goes wrong Travers will have all of you as prisoners! Think of the hold he'll have over me then." Her face twisted in distress. "And if he finds out do you know what he'll to do Giles?" She shook her head, then her face transformed to alight with excitement. "Come back here tomorrow night. We have a plan." She started to dash away, then ran back. "Tell Wes to bring Arancor. And tell Will to bring me some of my clothes that I left at her house. And find Spike for me."

The Slayer disappeared into the woods and the two young men exchanged mystified looks.

"Spike?" Xander said in disbelief.

Oz answered Xander's query with a shrug of his shoulders.

They rarely understood any of Buffy's plans, and this was no exception, but they would go along without comment because they knew the Slayer was more cunning than any creature or human pitted against her.

***

Irritated, hands on hips, Kettering paced the steps of the mausoleum in short, abrupt strides. Where was Buffy? Patrol should have ended fifteen minutes ago. If that girl was testing her limits again -- well, that was just fine, Kettering decided with a wicked smile. It would only hurt Giles. And seeing the former Watcher disgraced, degraded and injured was strangely gratifying to her. The man had abandoned his oath, his heritage and traditions. He deserved the pain for being so weak as to fall in hopeless love with a Slayer. A California one at that! At least the next Slayer would be an English girl.

The scent of fire floated on the air. Kettering drew a stake from her hip pouch and warily stalked through the cemetery. A camp fire in the nearby woods. Transients. Didn't the derelicts know better than to sleep rough on the Hellmouth? She stopped cold when she saw a Dorlock demon hunched over the fire. Her nose itching, Kettering identified the stench. This close it was unmistakable. Human flesh. On the ground was a ripped piece of black clothing, a bright pink scarf -- the one Kettering had told Buffy to throw away last week and she never did -- and the Slayer's ripped weapon bag.

In a moment Kettering realized what had happened. The huge, spined demon had overpowered the thin girl from California and cooked her. Lip rippling in disgust -- she would not have wished that kind of gruesome end on anyone, even Buffy -- the creature turned and snarled at her. In three paces he was close enough for her to throw a stake. When he hit the ground a few meters from her feet he was dead. She crouched down and picked up the weapon bag, shaking her head in regret. The girl had promise. In her capable hands Buffy could have been a first class Slayer. This is what happened to the undisciplined.

***

Unable to sleep because another nightmare had woken him in a cold sweat, Giles got out of bed and used the sink, awkwardly splashing water on his face. He looked in the mirror above the basin and saw a haggard face in the reflection.

How many nightmares had there been? How many sleepless nights when he imagined the worst -- pondered the horrific possibilities of never seeing her again? Pictured her dying a most foul and agonizing death. Would he even find a body?

He shook his head in exhausted despondency and went back into the small room. Things were bad enough without him dreaming up the most gruesome thoughts possible. She was skilled and bright and even without his influence he knew she was doing her best. Even in captivity -- enforced slavery -- she would be thinking, plotting, conniving a plan to foil Travers. All Giles had to do was be ready for anything.

Now convinced he should have married her -- insisting on the binding ceremony of the ancient Fated Connection Watcher and Slayer union. Even without Devoncor they still would have had more strength to summon, in unison, against any foe -- human or demon -- or both in the case of Travers, he concluded dryly. Buffy had rejected his proposal. Not his love, he reminded himself with forced hope. Slight comfort that Giles now knew that Travers had been influencing her decisions regarding her feelings for him and their connection.

On reflection, perhaps it was better things had turned out this way after all. Better that she be free than be condemned to be Travers' puppet. If she would just deny her loyalty to him she could get away. To where? Anywhere. The Hellmouth did not hold her prisoner, Travers did with his extortion. But she would not abandon him because she was first and foremost fiercely devoted to him as her Watcher. Inside, he felt her closeness -- a subliminal warmth -- certain of the most comforting truth to have come from this ordeal. As for her love for him there could be no doubt.

The room suddenly swayed and he fell onto the small bed. What?? His head was swimming and his stomach felt sick; twisting in knots of illness. He gulped down a cry, shivering in the cold wash of fearful dread that blanched him in terror. He could no longer feel that small sense of her presence in his mind, that shadow of her being in his soul. There was only pain surrounded by a void. As if she was no longer there.

NO! he cried, a pathetic moan gurgling along the sobs in his throat. NOT DEAD! He squirmed on the bed, wincing as the physical jar on his arm and damaged ribs reverberated in echoed pain. No, she couldn't be dead. He had to believe it was something else, he repeated in his mind, even as tears coursed his cheeks. What else could it be? Anything but that!

When the lock on the door clicked, Giles' grief turned to instant rage. They had killed his Slayer! As the door opened he stumbled to his feet, charging Travers and the man with him. The younger Watcher-henchman easily deflected Giles' flying tackle and sent the former Watcher into the wall. Crying out in agony, Giles huddled on the floor, trying to get up, but too weak, too hurt to do anything but come to his knees.

"You are pathetic, Rupert," Travers tsked, shaking his head. "I'm glad your grandmother is not alive to see this. Or your father. Never cared for either of them, but I didn't dislike them enough to wish you on them. You are a disgrace to everything we stand for."

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Giles looked up at his captor. With a motion Travers had his man grab Giles and bring him to his feet.

"I thought you would like to know you're free, Giles. This little adventure is over. Your Slayer didn't last, Rupert. She's dead. "

Tears of rage burned in his eyes and Giles lunged at his tormentor again. "NO!"

Again the younger man knocked him down, this time onto the floor where Giles skidded out to the small corridor outside his prison. It was a simple house with narrow halls and rooms -- not much area to maneuver. Giles was fighting to stand against a wall when the younger man grabbed him and slammed his face into the plaster, bringing his broken arm back behind his back.

Giles cried out and Travers came close, nearly nose to nose. "Do you know what that means? A new Slayer will be activated. In England. I am going there to become her Watcher and the Guardians of Tandoor will finally be in control of the Council after eight hundred years. But first I'm going to collect my other dagger, Arancor. Devoncor will lead me straight to it."

Giles couldn't control the shaking, the grief streaming from his eyes; the moaning voice, his quivering limbs. His life -- his Buffy, his love, all that mattered in life -- was finished.

"Your adventure is over, too, Rupert. I can't leave you around for the other old families in England to rally round. You'll have far less power as a martyr. And martyrs are so much easier to control than wounded, vengeful lovers." He stepped away and motioned for the muscle-man to take Giles down the hall. "Good-bye, Rupert. I'll give your regards to Watson. Or not. You'll be seeing him soon enough. I can't let him stay around too long, either. You old aristocrats are so influential. This time your blue blood will cost you all."

He was being dragged to his death and didn't care, he decided as the younger man -- he never even got a name -- pulled him without mercy to the upper rooms. He had seen only the basement during his captivity and often wondered where he was and what kind of a house he had been imprisoned in. The knowledge did him no good now. They were going to kill him and he didn't care. Why did he want to go on living without Buffy? Revenge? Yes. Revenge. At least some of them had to pay for killing her. Then he could die. Frustratingly, he had no strength to do anything about justice or retribution. Perhaps Travers was correct in his assessment of the broken Watcher as pathetic. In his shattered heart a echo of fire returned. As long as he had any fortitude, any breath left, he would use it to avenge his beloved Slayer.

At the top of the stairs the younger man had to unlock a door and Giles waited passively. When the man fished in his pocket for a key Giles twisted in his grip with a foot behind the man's knee. It took a hard shove, then instantly the man was tumbling down the stairs.

Fortuitously the keys had fallen to the floor and Giles fumbled with them, unlocking the door, then slamming it shut and locking it. He would keep them down there until he could find a weapon.

The house was dark -- dark outside and inside. Where were the lights? Were there only two of them, Travers and the other man? That made no sense, but he had never seen anyone else. Supposedly it didn't take much effort to imprison a wounded ex-Watcher.

Stopping in the hall, Giles held his breath. The hairs on the back of his neck were on end. Something was not right -- then the strangely misplaced, acrid scent was defined -- blood. Gulping, he leaned on the wall, edging closer to a big room, probably a sitting room. He had no weapon, he would have to rely on his wits and bare hands.

"Well, are you going to stand there all night or are you gonna come along?"

The cocky British voice was unmistakable and Giles nearly laughed with hysteric confusion. "Spike?"

"Hey, Giles." The blond, spike-haired vampire came around the corner, wiping a smear of blood from his chin. "I've come to help you make a getaway," he said in an odd tone, as if he was mimicking some old gangster movie.

The subtlety was lost on the emotionally distraught, physically aching Brit. "What are you doing?"

"That sod over there thought I was pizza delivery. Someone ought to teach your lot how unsafe it is round Sunnydale."

Giles gabbed onto the cold arm. "There are two more in the basement."

"You're inviting me to take them out?"

"Yes. Except Travers. I just need you to hold him for me," the Watcher clarified.

"Whatever, mate. Let's just hurry it up. We don't want witnesses to this little party."

Moving back to the basement door, Spike led the way while Giles stumbled down with the help of the railing. The young henchman was at the bottom of the steps, his neck broken. Spike muttered some comments about household safety and cautiously explored the several small rooms. He observed the expensive computer equipment with mild curiosity. His face twitched at the smell of blood in the place that had been Giles' cell.

"Yours," he categorized. "Fe Fi Fo Fum, I don't smell the blood of any other Englishmen." He turned to Giles. "No one else is here."

Giles stumbled through the rest of the rooms, finding a ladder leading to an upper hatch at the rear of the basement. He slammed a fist into the wall and yelped, leaning his head against the hand, shaking, fighting back the sobs. "He killed her! He needs to pay!"

With surprising gentleness Spike took the Watcher by the shoulders and helped him back up the stairs.

He quietly explained that Xander, Willow and Oz had enlisted his help to spring the captured Giles. He offered sympathy at Buffy's death and admitted she had been a worthy adversary.

"Why would you be willing to help, me Spike?"

"I don't like Watchers."

Giles looked down noticing something odd on the back of Spike's hand. Grabbing at him clumsily he stared at the mark, in the shape of a Celtic knot. "Arancor"

"What's that mate?"

"I see you've met Arancor," Giles stated matter of factly.

Spike pulled his hand hastily away and put it behind his back. "Don't know what you mean, mate, I came to save you out of the goodness of me heart."

Giles laughed at the vampire humorlessly. "Well goodness, maybe, somewhere deep down in that dead heart of yours Spike or Arancor wouldn't have been able to turn you to do it's bidding."

But how could Buffy have known? He and Wesley had discussed the possibilities of what the daggers singly and together might be capable of. They had found out in some of their research, which had been ongoing, that the dagger of Arancor was capable of turning any demon. Any demon, that is, that might still have some piece of good ingrained in them, to help the wielder Arancor when requested. But what did it matter now, what did anything matter now? Buffy was gone.

"We're going to get you to safety, mate. Your friends sent me to get you. They found a way to lead Travers and most of his bunch away and whoever was left would be too weak to put up much of a fight."

"Where are -- Xander? Willow?"

"They're gonna meet us. They've been watched by the Watchers so they couldn't come get you."

Too numb with shock and grief to find anything unusual about a Watcher being rescued by a vampire, Giles docily allowed the undead creature to place him in an old, window-blacked, fish-tailed Cadillac. Slumped down in the seat, Giles wept until he fell asleep. He dreamed of feeling Buffy's presence in his mind, telling him that everything would be all right.

***

Part 7

Early morning

When Spike's voice intruded on his fantasies of Buffy, Giles waved him away. The action brought on a swell of pain and Giles' started awake. In disoriented dullness he looked around, completely displaced with reality. Outside the open car door the first blush of dawn reflected off the tall building they had pulled up in front of.

Spike led him up to the entrance of Angel Investigations. Inside familiar faces and people swirled together. Joyce, Wesley, Willow, Oz, Xander, Angel and Cordelia parted like the Red Sea. Standing in an office door was Buffy, shining like an angel with the light behind her and her blond hair glowing around her face. She smiled at him. At the edges of his vision everything irised to black, until finally even Buffy was gone and he felt himself falling into a dark pit.

***

Something warm rested on his cheek. Something soft pillowed his head. A floral-scented aroma he knew floated around him and he felt delight and affection inside. Sweet, familiar fragrance drifted -- what was that? Buffy's perfume. Almost as quickly as the connection was made came the devastating reminder that Buffy was dead.

He groaned aloud and covered his face in his hands. They were touched by a gentle brush of feather-light fingers. "It's okay, Giles, everything is okay."

The cherished, whispered voice stroking his ear with minty breath startled him. He couldn't believe what he heard. Or was it the nightmares and the pain that he couldn't believe?

"Believe me, Giles." She answered his silent confusion with her solid strength. "Everything is all right now."

He blinked his eyes open, holding his breath and not daring to hope this was reality instead of a fantasy. Her face close to his seemed so real. She smiled -- a dazzling, beautiful smile -- then leaned down to kiss him on the lips. Assured by the sweet wonder of her affection -- that this was very real -- he reached back to stroke her neck as he kissed her more fully.

Leaning over to put an arm around her, he reawakened pains dulled by his shock. Groaning, he broke the kiss and she eased his head back on the bed.

"Wesley said you're going to be okay. He gave you some stuff to help with the pain." She frowned in momentary anger and sympathy, then leaned over and tenderly kissed his forehead. Then she kissed her fingertips and placed them first on his plastered arm, then on his ribs. "I'm so sorry they hurt you. But Wes fixed you up pretty good. See, he put a cast on your arm."

He glanced at the covered left arm, but quickly looked back into her eyes. He was afraid to look away, afraid she would vanish like the dream he still thought she might be.

"And yes, I am alive," she smiled again.

In her typical, rapid-fire Buffy fashion, she explained she had Willow give her a temporary spell. It was enough to sever their tenuous connection so he believed she was dead. "I'm so sorry Giles," Buffy told him close to tears, "to hurt you that way. I knew that you would feel my death, but I realized that the only way Travers would believe I was dead was if you believed it too. He needed to think he had won, that I was gone. My main aim was to get you away from him without causing you any more harm."

"Buffy, it's all right. To know that you're here and alive and we are together is all that matters now," Giles reassured her. "But what I'm wondering is how were you able to lure he and most of his bunch out of the house?"

Buffy pulled out Arancor. "He has Devoncor with him, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

"Thought so, the signs were all there. So I used my dagger as a lure to get him out of the house."

"And since he believed you were gone his access to Arancor would be wide open."

"Exactly!"

"What happened to my replacement? Did Spike get her too?"

"No actually Kettering put up quite a fight but Wes, took care of her. Watcher to Watcher you might say. She won't be bothering us anymore. We got out of Sunnydale before Travers knew what was happening. That's why we had Spike help out."

"Yes and that's when I should have realized you weren't dead when I saw Spike's brand. Only you could have used the power of Arancor to subdue Spike's demon."

"It's a great trick. Wes told me you and he had worked out the spell and I used it on Spike, knowing he would be the only one the Watchers weren't watching."

She smiled and traced his lips with a fingernail. "And I had this really clever idea --"

He pulled her closer and kissed her. After a moment he paused. "Are we somewhere safe?"

"Mmhuh," she sighed, diving in for another kiss.

"Then more explanations can wait," he decided, briefly nibbling her lips, then pulling her to lean on him as he kissed her again.

***

Travers came back with his men to find the ones he had left behind were dead. A broken neck on the one who was suppose to have finished off Giles and the other two killed off by a vampire. There was no sign of Giles and Travers realized he had been duped. The search for Arancor had been a wild goose chase. Devoncor had led them astray. Purposely it seemed, so that Giles' friends could rescue him. The Slayer was dead, but Travers knew that if he didn't get the other dagger and stop Rupert Giles the Guardians could very well end up failing to control the Watcher's Council.

Travers told the rest of his group to get ready, they were going to find the malcontents and take care of them all, Wesley Wyndam Price included. For Travers was quite aware that the ex-Watcher had been involved recently in helping Giles and his Slayer. He went into the computer room and picked up the phone, dialing a number.

"Travers, here, we might have a spot of bother on this end. Rupert isn't dead yet and I haven't found the Slayer's dagger."

The thin, crisp, British voice on the other end was brittle with rage. "We need that other dagger, Quentin, and Giles out of the way or all our plans will be for naught!"

"Yes, I'm quite aware of that! You forget your place," Travers murmured angrily to the man. "You maybe the new head of the Watcher's Council, but I'm still head of the Guardians of Tandoor and your fealty is to me."

"I meant no offense, Magus."

"Do we know who has been called yet?"

"No. Are you sure the Slayer is dead?"

"What do you mean?"

"No one has been called."

"That means, either Buffy Summers is still alive or it's the other Slayer, Faith, who will generate a new Slayer. Damn, we should have thought of that possibility."

"Yes, you should have." The other man taunted. "But our immediate problem is Rupert. What are you going to do about him?"

"Well I need to find him first don't I?" Travers remarked sarcastically.

"Any ideas?"

"Yes, I suspect our other scapegrace Watcher and his pet vampire are probably helping him."

"Wesley," the other voice hissed in disgust.

"Yes, for not only has Giles disappeared but so have all of Buffy Summers friend's including her mother."

"I thought we had a watch on our young Wesley?"

"We did but when the Slayer died I assumed that we didn't need to keep watch on anyone else. Rupert would follow his Slayer in death and any threat would have been neutralized. Without them, the Fated Connection and the power of the daggers would once again be within our hands and none would be able to stand against us."

"Yes, well, that seems to have gone totally awry now hasn't it?" the other man remarked judiciously. ""So you do know where they are then?"

"Yes, of course. It is quite obvious they would have gone to Los Angeles and joined up with Angelus and his group. We will be going after them momentarily, but I have decided to leave Devoncor secreted here until our return."

"Wise decision, I did warn you."

"I know, you were right," Travers agreed, once again trying to curb his annoyance with this underling. "I should never have brought the weapon so close to Rupert. It obviously is now drawn to him, but once he is dead, the weapon shall be mine again."

Travers hung up in anger. He hated to be questioned by any of his subordinates, but especially by that particular member. He was a dangerous man and he was Travers successor, as the head of the Guardins of Tandoor and would have usurped Travers authority long before if he could have. But the chosen head of the Guardians had been instilled with special abilities with the black arts, handed down from Arthur Tandoor over 800 years before.

The worst part of it was the other man had been correct. Travers himself had come to realize over the last few weeks that even imprisoned, Rupert Giles had been manipulating Devoncor. Travers had carried the weapon for awhile, but had to quickly take it out of his pocket as it scalded him on a number of occasions. When this happened to him a third time he had placed th