2 SEPTEMBER 2002- DEVON-

Bells were clanging somewhere, at the edges of his consciousness. Is that a telephone…? He couldn’t be bothered with the edges, when something much sharper, and more painful, was consuming him.

His family had crumbled to ruins. The static in the air made his flesh crawl, and his hair stand on end.

And, that ear-splitting sound…

The bells. No…not bells. Something else…painful…Like a scream…

Giles was not prepared for what he saw, or how that made him feel. A part of him understood what Spike had meant to do, and was grateful for it.

But, to see it…

He would be a fugitive. And, Rupert knew that the small part of Spike that was still his Grandmother Rachel’s brother loved Buffy; there was no denying that. He wanted her to be free. But, he knew that Spike had not expected this.

It’s devastating.

Seeing the depth of her grief was heartbreaking, and he had read the accounts of what had befallen the one Slayer who had willfully shunned her calling. As her Watcher, he could not allow her to be harmed in that way.

He loved her too much.

“Buffy,” Giles spoke softly, as he watched the two girls he thought of as daughters grieving together, his own voice shaken by what his eyes had seen, “please…You don’t know what that would do to you. The authorities will be here soon…”

“But Giles,” Dawn sobbed, as Buffy sat, nearly lifeless, in her arms, “she killed Spike. Would they put her in jail…for killing a killer?”

“Dawn, all the authorities will find,” Giles’s gaze darted to the broken window, not wanting to see the body he knew was beneath it, “is a body. Everyone here knows the truth. But, we have no proof…”

“…It doesn’t matter,” Buffy’s voice rattled up, from the empty place in her soul; her wound so deep that her spirit echoed the pain she was too angry to feel, “Nothing matters now. Take it out.”

“No,” Giles croaked, overcome by her grief, and his own.

Her eyes met his, blazing with anger and cold as death, “If you don’t,” she rasped, “I’ll throw myself out of that window.”

The room was heavy with sorrow. It was thick, like tar, or black trickle. Something was out of place.

And that was when he remembered. They weren’t alone.

How could I have forgotten?

His throat felt raw, as he tried to comfort them, “Buffy,” Giles whispered as he knelt in front of the huddled girls, “you know that Spike doesn’t…he wouldn’t have wanted that, for you. And neither do I. He was my family, Buffy, just as you are. If you were harmed…” his voice trailed off, as the unseen presence in the room moved to the front of his mind.

“Oh, God…What have I done to her? I’ve got to make this right. Rupert, tell her to wait…until just after sunset. If after that…she still wants this to happen…Tell her you’ll help her.”

Her voice continued, making him wonder if he had, in fact, spoken. She hadn’t acknowledged him at all, “…There’s no way I can make this right,” Buffy sobbed, her face in her hands, “He’s dust. I have to make it right,” Buffy shook her head, lost and hurt; her voice muffled by her hands, “But, I can’t! It’s what I am,” her hands fell from her face, and the anguish in her eyes cut Giles deeply, and forever, “I’m a killer,” she whispered, vacantly, “Oh, Spike, I’m so sorry!”

Giles looked at her, stunned, and numb from shock and grief. Was he delusional? Had he been too slow to react? Was he strong enough? Did William Ellis still exist- at all?

Would he ever see the family “ghost” again?

“Buffy,” Giles was nearly breathless with anxiety and fear, “please wait. If…after sunset, this is what you still want- if you want the Ukesolrill to be removed…” he sighed, as the weight of what he might have to do, kill the Slayer, and tear Buffy’s mind, indeed her whole world, asunder, fell upon him, “then, I will do it myself.”

“I won’t change my mind, Giles. What could a few hours do?”

“Exactly,” Giles sighed, feeling hope creep into his heart, “Just a few hours, Buffy.”

Giles sensed movement in the room, and felt a peace settle over him.

“I’ll take care of her, Rupert.”

But, that sense of peace did not last long.

Willow’s voice cut through the softness that was to be his refuge, “Giles…?”

He looked up to see a deep pain in her eyes, “What is it, Willow?”

“That was the telephone,” she said softly, “I thought I should get it. You were…busy. That was a call from the States… California…The prison,” she choked, “Faith…it was a fight. Someone had a knife…She’s dead.”

A soft, chilling laughter came from Buffy, “She’s dead; so am I. Spike’s dead too. And poor Althenea…the lion got her. Ate her up. Now, you have to kill it. Kill it, Giles. Before it kills another innocent little girl.”

The shock of what had happened in this house had rendered Panya speechless with sadness. He’d watched it all, seen his friend murdered in front of him.

He thought he would never speak again. But to see Shujaa like this…so broken…he knew that Simba would not want that.

“No, Shujaa,” Panya whispered, “Do not become Njozi . Please. He would not want that for you.”

“He can’t want anything for me, anymore, Mouse. He’s gone.”

“I am sorry,” Panya’s voice was tight from pain, “I know it may seem to be so. But, it does not have to be thus. You are his mtina. Simba still lives,” he smiled at her weakly, looking at the scene before him with watery eyes, “He lives,” the boy said gruffly, “as long, and as well, as you do. Now Simba is truly immortal.”

Buffy gasped, feeling warmth in her chest. She had never thought of that. He was right.

“Thank you, Mouse,” she whispered.