03 SEPTEMBER 2002- DEVON, ENGLAND-

The sound of Dawn’s tears was getting to him, and, as the sky began to grey with the light of morning, his hope was all but gone.

Rupert Giles quietly excused himself. He had to be away from everyone. The dawn was coming- and there was nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing to say that he was ever here. William Ellis was dead. He knew that now.

He knew that because he knew that he had failed.

He closed the door and turned to watch the sunrise. Even here, with its shades of lilac and grey, it was beautiful.

It was something William, something Spike, would have enjoyed. It was harsh, but the harshness of its light made it just that much more breathtaking.

He watched it to soothe the ache in his bones. He felt old, but this was something he needed to do.

It was his way of remembering him.

His heart clenched when he heard the Slayer, someone who trusted her life to him, and the things he had to teach her, things that were now in question, screaming his name.

He squinted. He could see her, far ahead, running toward him. And, was she wearing…?

He stepped forward. The hope in her voice was painful. Oh, no, dear heart, please don’t make this harder. You have to accept… “Giles!” Buffy shouted as she ran, stopping only when he caught her and held her gently, “It’s not real!” she breathed, “I know it’s not! I don’t know what you did,” she panted, her eyes wide with hope, “But, you can undo it now. Please…?”

She seemed so tiny. How can someone this small be so strong?

He closed his eyes and tried not to notice that she was trembling, and sighed, trying to control his own emotions. He slowly opened his eyes, pushing her away, slightly, to look into her eyes.

So much hope. I hate to crush it.

“Buffy, if only I could…” Giles spoke softly. There was disbelief in his tone, the words a distracted jumble, “He meant well…So did I. It was meant as a kind of hunters’ blind. He wanted to…to…” his grief would not let him continue. He took a deep breath, and lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes. He preferred to look at the sand, “But, “I lost him,” he choked out.

“What?!” Buffy hissed. The word was grinding and sharp, too loud in the air around them.

“Soon after Althenea…died. I had him,” Giles whispered, “I did. But now…” he shook his head, and his words were sharpened with loss and his acute sense of failure, “It’s as though he’s slipped through my fingers. There’s nothing now. Not for hours…” he closed his eyes again, “I have tried,” he choked, “But, there’s nothing…”

The loss settled in, and it hit her in the chest, and stopped her heart.

Oh, her heart still beat; still moved blood. It kept her moving. Blinking. Breathing.

But, make no mistake. She was dead.

“Oh, Giles,” she sobbed, clinging to him in her grief.
**************************************************************


FEBRUARY 10, 2008- LOS ANGELES-

He gained control again, which was something he, admittedly, didn’t have much of these days, not since Spike…not since he found out what really happened to him, and sat in the leather chair across from her. He looked at her; really looked, and what he saw nearly made him choke. He tried not to let the hatred consume him, but it was difficult, almost impossible.

The way she looked…it just brought it all back.

He sighed. She was small. Petite really, and in desperate need of a meal. Thin. But, something about her made her powerful. Someone not to be toyed with. If she were a male, she would almost remind him of…

Spike. And there it was again, that familiar pain.

I didn’t know that I would feel like this. How could I? It can’t hide from me no matter what it looks like. I was a killer for nearly five hundred years; I can be one again. He was my family…He meant something. I didn’t realize how much until… He had a soul, not a curse, and she just… And now, I just… “You lost them a month ago?” the question held a hint of menace, even he could feel that his hold on his demon wasn’t as tight as he would have liked it to be. Angelus gritted his teeth, and glared at the blonde, blue-eyed woman that stared dispassionately back at him from behind her cherry wood desk, “And you’re just telling me this now? That is not what I pay you for,” he said as he sat in the chair across from her.

Daisy Pendleton smiled the smile of a Cheshire cat, “No, it isn’t. But, you will pay for the custom, imported, Italian marble door that you just destroyed. I’m adding it to your bill.”

“I really don’t care what you charge me for,” Angelus growled, “I don’t care if you charge me for artwork you stole from the Vatican! Just find that bitch! Find the Slayer!”

Daisy regarded him coolly, “And just what it is you think we’ve been doing for nearly six years?”

“Fleecing the Synod’s, and my, pockets.”

Daisy blinked, and smiled, “Well, yeah,” she admitted and then sighed, “But, you’re not exactly low profile. Everyone knows what happened, how you found out, and how you dealt with…” she winced, “The people and things that you felt kept you in the dark, as it were. Behavior like that makes anyone who might have anything new to tell us….understandably reluctant to divulge any information…”

“I said, find her!” Angelus thundered as he stood up, “I don’t care what it takes!” he shouted as he stormed out of the office.

As he left the office, he knew he had to hurry. It wouldn’t be long before the sun was up, and he was barely holding onto his control as it was. The empty feeling, the loss that drew him back to her in the first place and led him to fight by her side, for the sake of his memory, was returning. Indeed, it never really left.

Not since that last night, on the beach. He felt the loss gnawing at him again, just thinking about it, but the pain was good. It motivated him. It made him remember what he was fighting for, and who.

I’d never seen him that angry. He won. He actually * won. * And, he let me go. He had me pinned…I saw the stake…and I was glad. I was tired…I’m so tired. But don’t worry. She’ll pay for what she did.

This pain had been with him. The emptiness. The missing. Part of his family was gone, forever. Taken from him. He felt it. Even before he’d finished licking his wounds in Somerset.

That is what drove him back to her. It was back, and it felt good.

The harpy…

“That witch!” he growled.

The hate began to harden in his gut again as he reached the shelter of the old hotel.

She would pay. Oh, yes. She would pay.