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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to Puddinhead for editing this piece and for talking me through putting up the Sunnyd Awards button.

By the way, thanks so much to whoever nominated this one! It means so much to me!

Also, much happens in this chapter that you may dislike.
"Good night," she said. The cot was marginally softer, but she didn't want to be that far away from him. Besides, if he really could feel the warmth of her body through the wall, she didn't want to deny him that small measure of comfort; not when he'd given so much to her.

~*~*~*~

Giles awoke to the sound of the doorbell. He'd slept in his clothes without even bothering to take off his shoes. Frankly, he felt disgusting, but decided the visitor might be important. He shambled to his feet and answered the door. On his front landing stood Davinia. She looked as though she were valiantly trying to appear alright, despite the fact that she'd rapidly dropped about ten pounds since the last time they'd met. She was freshly-scrubbed in her lilac-colored dress and pink sweater, but the clothes pouched around her. Her large eyes were sunken as well. She was carrying a Tupperware container that looked like a small, toy drum and a paper grocery sack.

"Good morning, my dear," Giles said, taking the bag from her arms. He poked his nose in and was rewarded with the scent of spanakopita. He also noticed some grape leaves on top and his mouth began to water.

"Hey, Rupert. I stopped by to see how you were and to bring the gang some food. I hate to think of everybody just going back to ordering pizza all the time," she said.

"Yes, well, come in," he said. She entered and kicked his door shut. Then she went to the kitchen and placed her container on the counter before taking off the plastic lid. The fragrance of the pastry inside unfurled, causing him to sigh.

"Caramel apple cake. If my breath weren't atrocious, I would kiss you right now," he said.

"You're too nice to me," she said, dismissively, as she did every time he complimented her. Dav was rooting around the kitchen cupboards for one of his piece of his blue china. She slid the top dish off the stack. Then she went about finding a knife and fork in the drawers. She served him a slice and closed the lid without taking any for herself. With efficiency, she began putting the other food into his refrigerator. Giles stared at her, holding his plate at waist level.

"Go, sit, eat," she said.

"I'm sorry. I'm a bit dazed," he said, before following her instructions. After a few moments she followed him into the living room and sat on the couch. She began twisting a few stray strands of yarn on her frayed cuff. He savored the cake in silence until it was nothing more than a spray of crumbs on the plate. Giles was surprised that he actually felt a better. He set the dish on his coffee table and then put a hand on Davinia's shoulder.

"I'm sorry about you and Xander," he said.

Much to his shock, she hugged him. It only took a second for Giles to hug her back. They sat with his arm around her shoulders as though it were a regular habit, which it certainly was not. He never would have been so physically familiar with one of the children. Even though Davinia was about eighteen years his junior, she felt like a peer. He smiled at her, feeling a sense of inexplicable gratitude that there was an equal with whom to commiserate at that moment.

"I feel helpless about everything so I've been cooking up a storm. That's my solution when things get tough; braising sides of things. My mom thinks I need to have babies or adopt a lot of cats to work off all that maternal energy. I don't want to tell her I only get this way when I'm really, really upset. Sorry for being so bossy," she said.

"I could use a little mothering just now, so don't worry," Giles said, patting her hand, "also, kittens on the Hellmouth tend to be possessed by the demon Bastet, so it's imprudent to take in strays."

"Good to know. Is there anything else I can do to help Buffy?"

"You're doing enough already and now that Angel's here to aid in the investigation, we've got plenty of hands," Giles said.

She cocked her head and looked at him with embarrassment.

"Is Angel, like, still okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"I...he creeps me out."

"There's nothing to worry about. The two of you would have no occasion to interact."

"See, that's what I thought, too, but Angel stopped by my apartment the other night. I-I accidentally let him in. It's stupid. I know he's not all evil anymore, but I'm kind of freaked out."

"Why was he at your apartment?" Giles asked, tensing at the thought of them alone with one another.

"He was looking for the gang."

Giles squeezed her more tightly and felt an irrational urge to never let go. Davinia's dark eyes were so like Jenny's. She was an innocent, even more so than Xander or Willow. She shouldn't have to live in fear of the moment when a trusted friend could use his privileged knowledge to destroy her.

"I'll speak to him and make certain he doesn't bother you again," Giles said.

"Thank you. So...how is Xander doing?" she asked, innocently.

"Dreadfully."

"That's a relief," she said, smiling against his shoulder.

~*~*~*~

Spike and Buffy were so exhausted, they didn't hear the footfalls of the soldiers approaching their cells. Buffy whimpered as the tranquilizer dart sunk into her neck, but the noise did not rouse the vampire. Agent Schuler and Agent Blake clomped into Buffy's room. They picked her up and placed her on a gurney they'd brought. By the time Spike sensed her loss and called her name, she was already being prepped in the surgical ward.

~*~*~*~
As he stared at her bare back, Xander was transfixed by the way Willow's waist tapered. She was fastening her bright, blue bra and her short, red hair was dusting along her shoulders.

"You're so beautiful, Wills," Xander said. He was lying on his stomach, his head pillowed in his folded arms.

She glanced at him over her shoulder and a shy smile touched her lips.

"Really?" she asked.

"Really."

"You shouldn't say things like that," she whispered.

Xander felt his skin flush. Even though he and Dav had broken up, touching Willow still felt like cheating. If he were being brutally honest, it was cheating; he still loved Davinia. He loved Willow, too, but it wasn't in the same way. Willow knew it and so did he—this was nothing more than a band-aid on a bullet wound. Still, as he slid on his goofy, gold and black parachute pants, he felt proud knowing Willow could get hot for him even when he was dressed like one of M.C. Hammer's back up dancers.

Xander stood and walked over to her, still feeling dizzy. After they'd scoured campus for three hours searching for anyone or anything that could help in their search for Buffy, they'd gone back to the dorm to take a nap. The nap led to frantic sex, the kind that felt almost like punishment until the orgasm split open the pain. Xander had taken solace in Willow's body, but his satisfaction had fled the moment she'd gotten up to set herself right.

"I think Angel suspects something because of his vampiric smelling abilities. He pulled me aside when we were out on patrol and asked if I wanted to talk," Willow said. She stood at the mirror beside the dresser and dabbed perfume on her wrists. It filled the air with the scent of vanilla.

"Doesn't Oz?" Xander asked, trailing a light fingertip along her arm. She glanced over at him.

"I put the brakes on things with Oz before I started the smoochies with you. Thanks for the vote of confidence," Willow said.

"You didn't say anything—"

"I didn't think I'd have to. He and I broke up the day after we figured out Buffy vanished."

"Because of me?" Xander asked, kissing the spot he'd just touched.

"No, it's more because he's been scaring me a lot lately with the possessiveness." She was combing her hair and gazing sadly at her reflection.

"That sounds very un-Oz-like," Xander said, wondering why he was defending a guy who was essentially his romantic rival.

"I know. Hence the scary. He wants to talk about him and me again, soon," Willow said.

"And what are you going to tell him?"

"It's over. But I don't want you to think...like I'm not expecting you to be my boyfriend. I know this whole thing is more of us reacting to losing Buffy. And I know you're still in love with Dav. Plus I was really rooting for the two of you, even though I sound like a big hypocrite pants. She's good for you," Willow said, setting down her comb. Xander realized he's left a wicked hickey on her pale chest.

"You're not wearing pants," Xander said, leering at the ruffled, pink undies that so didn't match with her bra. There was something unbearably sexy about the incongruity. Xander knew she was right. He couldn't picture himself staying with her as his girlfriend, or she with him. Everything about their furtive couplings felt transitory; the choice to do it seemed to fade in importance faster than the bruises left behind.

They were scheduled to meet with Andrew and Eddie in about a half hour to go over spell research, which meant they had about twenty minutes. He wound his arms around Willow's slim, bone-china white waist. He felt as though he'd snap her in half if he squeezed her too tightly. His chin fit neatly in the crook of her neck and they stared at their reflection framed in the rectangular mirror.

“I feel like a complete monster for doing this,” Willow said.

"Don't, sex is just another way of doing what we've always done. We're being here for each other," Xander said.

"You make it sound so nice," Willow said, her smile brightening and her eyebrows rising on the last word. Xander slid his hands into the cups of her bra, plucking at her nipples until her flesh puckered with goosebumps.

"Nice?"

"No. Not nice," she said and then tilted her mouth to his for another kiss.

~*~*~*~

Angel had been staying in the mansion again despite the bad memories. He figured Spike would look for him there first even though he was beginning to lose hope of ever seeing either him or Buffy again.

The ruins of the church hadn't been disturbed or transformed into a site for ritual. There'd been no grave robbing and no missing orphan reported, which was good, but left Angel wondering where to go next. The whelp and the tiny witch were focused on the prison camp, but there was no evidence of such a place beside the loose talk in the demon underground.On top of that, Angel was certain the old friends had insisted on patrolling campus alone because they'd begun sleeping together. He could pick up their scent on one another and the odd, guilty looks the redhead kept casting at her friend.

Sometimes it felt to Angel as though he was the only one taking Buffy's disappearance seriously. He knew Buffy was still alive, knew it with his whole being, but he also sensed she was in pain. None of the others were connected the way he was; none of them had his sense of urgency.

Giles had been a disappointment in helping with the search. The old man was falling apart without Buffy. Angel could hardly cast a glance at the Watcher because part of Giles' decline fell squarely at his feet. As Angelus he'd zeroed in on Giles' because he was Buffy's one protector. Now that he was himself again, Angel knew if the Watcher was of no use to his pupil in her hour of need, the fault was his, not Giles.'

There was a knock summoning Angel from his contemplation. The vampire rose from the marble floor and answered the door. The Watcher who had just been occupying his thoughts was standing on the other side, holding a leather satchel and fingering the end of a walking stick. It saddened Angel to think the man, who was not half-way to fifty yet, already needed a cane.

"Please come in, did you hurt yourself?" Angel asked. The man gave him a curt nod and limped past him, relying heavily on the stick.

"Yes, I was digging through some books and took a nasty spill off of my step ladder. It was foolish, really, I was exceeding my reach. At any rate, my back is sprained."

Angel realized he'd invited Giles to the same place where he'd tortured him; where Dru had convinced him his beloved Jenny was still alive. The vampire's stomach clenched. He wondered how the soul could do that when his stomach hadn't really moved in more than a hundred and seventy years. Giles hobbled to stand by one of the wing chairs scattered by the fire and waited. Angel glided over to him and gestured for the Watcher to sit.

"No thank you. Believe it or not, being upright helps more. Where are the others?"

Angel took the less comfortable seat near the hearth, in case Giles changed his mind. He folded his hands in his lap and crossed his legs.

"Xander and Willow are on campus. Their friends, the boys, I guess they're looking into a refining spell. It would cleanse the ether of dark magic. I'm not sure what's going on with Davinia," Angel said. Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief.

"She's safe, she's staying with Joyce tonight. I set some wards on Buffy's home before this debacle began," Giles said, sliding his spectacles into his front pocket.

"That's good. Have you heard anything from Spike?"

"No. At this point I'm not counting on an appearance from him. It would be simpler, but I believe we're dealing with something a great deal more organized than William the Bloody could have ever hoped to be," Giles said.

Angel's smile barely indented his cheeks and left his eyes flat.

"That's what I feared. At least with Spike, I know I can take him in a fight," Angel said.

The memory of his first fight with William came back to the vampire unbidden. He'd goaded the fledgling vamp by fucking his woman, then demanded young Willy fight for her. Poor Dru had been so confused that their fun and games had so displeased her new creation. Angel had pummeled William; breaking his flawless skin and spilling all his stolen spoils on the ground. Then he'd taken the fledgling vamp as William begged Drusilla not to watch.

Literally taken him.

What a poor choice of words, Angel thought, with a shudder. Perhaps that's why he'd always resented Spike. The only place Angel could ever see his reflection was in those clear, blue eyes. What he saw staring back at him was vile.

Giles noticed Angel's distress, but luckily didn't ask him to elaborate.

"I wish I could tell you this was some new information that would help us find Buffy, but I wanted to speak to you about the blood bond. I found out a great deal from Mrs. Avenolie on my visit."

Angel shifted in his chair.

"Go on."

Giles began shuffling behind him toward the oak table where there sat a decanter of Scotch. Angel kicked himself for not offering the Watcher anything to drink. He looked at the flames creeping over the cedar branches in the grate and listened to liquid being poured. Giles took a sip and sighed, the liquor sloshing gently in his glass.

"She thought there was a cure to rupture the connection without taking drastic measures, but it proved to be a very old, very elaborate hoax. Through the additional research, we discovered Buffy will likely become more and more compromised as time goes on, especially if you continue to be near her," Giles said. Angel heard him down the rest of the liquor, then set the empty vessel on the wooden table.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, unfortunately. There are steps to ameliorate the pull you have upon her, but they are difficult," Giles said, moving closer.

"I'll do anything for Buffy. I love her with all my soul," Angel said. The words caught in his throat and the vampire choked back a sob. He felt the Watcher's hand on his shoulder.

"I truly believe that," Giles said.

A second later Angel felt something stabbing through his chest. Then all the love, all the pain and all the regret of two centuries disintegrated into a pile of dust.

~*~*~*~

Giles stood over the crumbling ash that had been Angel a few seconds before. He returned the glass ornament onto his grandmother's cane concealing the sharpened, wooden stake once more. He wasn't proud of his kill, as Grandmother would have been, so Giles didn't regret that he wasn't able to make a prize of Angelus' canines. She was the first—the only—female to head the Watcher's Council. She had bigger bollocks than his and Giles had told her as much on her sick bed, back when he was an angry, young man.

Grandmama had met death with a peal of laughter.

Giles supposed there was a bit of Ripper left within him to take such pleasure in seeing his former torturer gone. The idea to stake Angel had formed when Giles learned the blood bond would pull Buffy down until the vampire's final day, making her more and more vulnerable to his advances with time. Then learning that Spike could use Angel to bring back Drusilla added more urgency to the choice. But the last straw had been the fear in Davinia's eyes. Giles couldn't stand to see her that way, looking so much like Jenny.

God, Jenny.

Maybe it had just been about Jenny. If that were true, it would be more than enough.

Giles had played the wounded lamb and convinced the wolf he was less than a threat. Then he'd simpered close and stabbed the beast in the back without qualms. Jenny was worth that hit to his dignity; so were Buffy and Dav. At least now his Slayer had a fighting chance. Giles took his eyeglasses from his pocket, wiped the lenses clean and put them back on. He walked gracefully to the door, twirling the cane in his hand.

It was time to find Buffy.

~*~*~*~

Maggie was watching the bank of monitors with one arm wrapped around her waist and the other hand supporting her chin. Two of her soldiers were cavorting, nude, with the former Harmony Kendall. Maggie had carefully documented the progression in the boys from sexual aggressors who were intent on forcing themselves upon the creature to virtual slaves to the vampire's beck and call. She'd deduced their willing supplication had to do with the blood they gave to the hostile.

Perhaps, Maggie thought, she could use this information to hasten results in another difficult case.

Installing a behavior modification chip in Buffy Summers had been an utter failure. The little spitfire had no physiological reaction to the stimulation. The girl's body ignored the highly specialized military weapon as though it were nothing more than an earring and Maggie immediately removed the thing. Buffy's DNA proved she was a human being, but her body chemistry was definitely foreign to Maggie's expertise. Perhaps it wasn't the so-called Slayer gene. Perhaps the chip only worked on men; after all, Maggie hadn't tested it on any females.

No matter; Professor Walsh had another avenue to pursue. She pressed the intercom button and brought her lips close to the microphone.

"Agent Schuler, Agent Blake, I need you to bring me Hostile Nineteen from the recovery room."


~*~*~*~

Agent Finn had no idea his shift would begin with such upheaval. Professor Walsh and Doctor Oliver were having words in the darkened control room with its wall of television screens.

"Why can't you ever leave well enough alone, Mags? You've got to keep pushing until there's nothing left to break," Lloyd said, his hands secured to his hips. Professor Walsh stood within an inch of the doc, her finger in his face.

"I do what needs to be done."

"What needs to be done, what needs to be done? That's a riot. We surely needed this genocide."

"Genocide! That must be hyperbole—"

"No, Mags, there's just one Buffy Summers and you may have destroyed her—"

At the mention of Buffy's name, Riley's eyes darted to the surveillance system. He watched as Blake and Schuler wheeled Buffy down the detention hall. The image jumped from screen to screen as they moved. The hostiles were going mad; banging on the glass walls of their cages and shreiking as she passed. Riley noticed red stains soaking through the white sheet that covered her. The animals could smell her blood. The soldiers wheeled Buffy past Spike as the vampire screamed nonsensically on the screen.

Blake swiped his card and waited as the glass wall retreated. Then he rolled the prone girl into her cell and dumped her on the cot. Without the sheet she was stark naked. Riley's color rose at the sight of her and he tried to focus on her face. Her eyes were closed, her full lips were lax and chapped. Blake left, trapping her inside the room that was separated from Spike's enclosure with nothing more than a retractable wall.

A second later, Spike darted from his room to hers; it registered to Riley as a character moving from one monitor screen to another. The vampire knelt beside her and then lowered his head to the oozing wound on her upper arm. Dr. Oliver stopped screaming at Professor Walsh and gaped.

"So we're going to watch him eat her, is that it?" Oliver asked.

"He's sealing the cuts. Their saliva has a coagulant that's released at will," Riley said, softly. Riley normally wouldn't have intervened in a discussion between two superiors, but he was so upset he momentarily forgot his place.

"Very good, Finn. I'm glad at least one of you is paying attention. Hostile Seventeen is reacting just as I predicted. All that observation you go on about has actually proven useful, Lloyd. Her wounds are superficial, but I knew the hostile wouldn't be able to resist her blood. We'll give Nineteen some time to recuperate and then test the results," Maggie said. She turned on her heel and began walking toward the exit.

"Don't walk away from me!" Dr. Oliver shouted. He seemed immediately ashamed of what he'd said. Shock dropped his mouth open a fraction and his eyes got rounder. Professor Walsh looked sternly at the doctor, her profile harder than one of the craggy visages from Mount Rushmore.

"Pull yourself together, Lloyd. We have a meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Adset in an hour," Professor Walsh said. As Maggie brushed past Riley, he had to suppress a shudder of revulsion. He'd never felt anything remotely negative about his mentor before, but at that moment he could hardly look in her direction. When she breezed out of the room, Dr. Oliver must have noticed that Riley had steeled himself at her touch. The doc passed by and gave Riley a sympathetic look.

"You're in charge until we return, soldier."

"Yes sir."

Dr. Oliver patted his shoulder.

"You're a good man, Agent Finn," Doctor Oliver said before he left.

Riley was alone in the control room. Even though he knew he shouldn't, Riley couldn't help himself. He looked at Buffy on the monitor. Spike was crawling along her body, gently lapping up her blood. There were three, long gashes—one on each arm and the last on her abdomen. Riley felt a thrill trickle up his spine at the way her nipples hardened and her soft moan when the monster dragged his tongue along the edge of the wound. He was disgusted with himself for spying on something so incredibly intimate, but just as compelled to watch. When the vampire had finished tending to the seemingly unconscious girl, he wrapped her in his black trench coat.

"Can you hear me, love?" Spike asked, staring into her face.

Her lashes fluttered and she touched his ruddy mouth. She nodded. He kissed the tips of her fingers.

"Please talk to me," Buffy whispered

"Don't know what to say. Maybe sing something? My mother liked it when I'd sing to her when she was ill."

She smiled and then closed her eyes again.

Spike began rocking her and gazing into her face. Tears were glossing the vampire's eyes and spilling onto her chest. His voice cracked as he began the tune.

"The other night dear, when I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. But when I awoke dear, I was mistaken, so I hung my head down and cried. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray, you'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away...don't know the rest of the words, love—"

Of all the things he'd seen in his short, strange life, Riley never imagined he would witness a monster singing a lullaby. He went to the control panel and shut off the feed from their cell.

"Yeah, I'm a good man," Riley said, bitterly.


Chapter End Notes:
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