Buffy and Giles ReVamp'd / Life Goes On

CHAPTER TWO Fight Night on the Hellmouth

It was almost nightfall as they crossed into the city's outer limits, entering what had for many years been her home. A wistful bitterness settled into the pit of Buffy's stomach as the car passed along the desolate road, moving them deeper into the ever increasing darkness. The headlight's low beams caught the glow of luminescent paint on the sign welcoming them back into Sunnydale. Heaving a heavy sigh, Buffy resigned herself to the idea that she was actually going on patrol.

So much for old proverbs she frowned, speaking for the first time during the drive.

Giles glanced curiously in her direction. And which proverb would that be?

The one that says you can never go home again.

Ahead of them was a string of disheveled buildings, the shambles of what had once been a thriving strip mall. The stores had been abandoned, most of their windows shattered. Huge cracks had rendered the parking lot an uneven terrace requiring the careful navigation of an all terrain vehicle. The road beneath their own wheels fared little better, and Giles slowed to a more reasonable crawl, maneuvering around the worst of the destruction.

Of course, she continued, regarding the gloom and destruction surrounding them at every angle. Most people try to keep a neater home than this. Oh, my God, Giles, what are you doing?

The Brit had suddenly veered off the main road, aiming the rental car toward the entry sign of an abandoned business. Buffy could hear the crunch of broken glass under their tires as Giles steered directly for the large gap in the collapsed store front. Buffy braced herself, riding out the jarring impact as Giles drove over the curb. He only braked to a stop when the car was through the front doorway, and completely inside the building.

Killing the motor and the lights, Giles looked back toward the road. That was when Buffy noticed the lights of another vehicle creeping past. She recognized the distinctive black and white pattern of a police car. As the vehicle played its penetrating spotlight across the empty parking lot outside, she realized the wisdom behind Giles' sudden compulsion to hide.

When the police had finally passed them by, and Giles was sure they were well down the road, he turned on the ignition, and carefully backed the car out from the store front's opening, reversing his path though several jolting bumps as he made his way back to the main road.

That was exciting, Buffy proclaimed as they once again continued on their way. I guess all that time misspending your youth does come in handy.

It's imperative that we keep our presence here a secret, Giles cautioned.

Well, then I guess that I shouldn't have sent out those invitations.

I'm serious, Buffy.

Now there's a switch.

Buffy, please…

She could sense Giles was about to launch into one of his trade tirades about devotion to duty, or some important thing or other. But instead of the usual lecture, he merely stayed silent, his face thoughtful in the dim lighting that emanated from the dashboard.

Looks like I've got quite a bit of work ahead of me, she muttered quietly under her breath. She slid her gaze toward Giles, but thankfully he hadn't heard. They continued on in silence, keeping their thoughts to themselves, each feeling the gulf between them ever deepening with every lost minute that passed.

The closer they got to the center of town, the more treacherous the roads became. Eventually Giles declared the streets impassable for his rental, and after pulling the car off onto a side street, he parked amongst several other abandoned vehicles, allowing the night to conceal its location.

After grabbing a satchel of weaponry from the trunk, Giles joined Buffy on the nearby sidewalk, and together they began to walk toward the center of town. Though she had lived in Sunnydale over seven years, and traversed most of its streets and cemeteries, Buffy found herself disoriented by her surroundings. Not a single street lamp worked, and every storefront was dark, the electricity having been interrupted by the Hellmouth disaster. They had only the moon overhead to light their way, along with the pair of flashlights they had brought with them.

But it was more than just the darkness that obscured their location. Piles of debris littered the sidewalks and streets, providing an obstacle course as they navigated their way through the deepening night. The narrow beams of their flashlights illuminated the difficult path, their feet picking carefully though each yard of progress that they made. At times they moved at a near crawl, forced to climb over downed poles and the occasional overturned mailbox, or leaping across the gaping fissures that cut open across the ground in their way.

They had covered a scant two blocks when a flash of intense blue light suddenly stabbed through the night. Instinct kicked in, and the pair scuttled into the nearest alley, taking refuge within the dark shadows as they turned to see what it was. A pair of round lights bobbled as they approached up the street, the blue flash continuing to pulse and strobe overhead. It was a police car, the second that night.

It's good to know our tax dollars are working hard, Buffy mumbled. As the car came closer, she pressed deeper into the shadows, Giles' taller frame hunkering over her shoulder. They doused their own lights, and hid amongst the trash bags and a filled to capacity dumpster, the overwhelming stench of rotting food and scrounging vermin nauseating, to the point Buffy thought she might puke.

Shrouded by the shadows from prying eyes, they waited for the cruiser to pass. The black and white utility vehicle bounced slowly along the uneven street, the blue light piercing the night, and covering every surface it touched with an eerie, unnatural glow. As it drew abreast of the Watcher and slayer, they stepped back deeper into the obscuring shadows, pressing their bodies into a recessed doorway to avoid detection.

The police continued by the alley without stopping, their red taillights gradually disappearing down the street into the distance. Once the way was clear again, Giles and Buffy snapped their flashlights back on, and exiting the alleyway, continued down the sidewalk toward the center of town.

q>Call me crazy, Buffy grumbled to her Watcher. But isn't the point of patrolling to catch the lurkers, and not be one of the lurking who get caught?

Ignoring her pithy comment, Giles looked around them, trying to get his bearings again. I believe this is Elm Street we're on now. Which would make the intersection up ahead Maple Court. We're heading in the correct direction.

Maple Court was part of the main drag through Sunnydale's business district. It was an area of town Buffy had become quite familiar with over the years. The buildings around her, however, bore little resemblance to those she remembered, every one having suffered some sort of damage from the Hellmouth's recent implosion. Shockwaves from that calamity, had reverberated throughout the entire town, some areas sustaining greater degrees of ruin and destruction. The former high school represented the epicenter of the catastrophe embodied by the gigantic sink hole that stretched for miles across the encompassing districts. Other areas, like the downtown neighborhoods they now explored, were also hit hard, though most structures remained partially intact, at least to the naked eye.

Up close, the destruction was more obvious. The streets were spider-webbed by fissures of varying widths, their uneven edges creating a hazardous passage for any vehicle or person on foot. There was good reason the police were using a multi-terrain cruiser to troll the streets. Giles' rental would never have been able to do the same, not without undergoing a good deal of damage to its undercarriage.

And it wasn't just the streets. Every buildings' foundation seemed to be rent by gaping cracks. Walls leaned seriously at precarious and unnatural angles, some bowing pregnantly under the pressure of added weight they were never meant to support. Door frames tilted out of kilter, window lintels snapped like toothpicks. The sidewalks were littered with all manner of debris. There was broken glass, piles of bricks, discarded papers and food wrappers that tumbled across the pavement, driven by the slightest of breezes. The occasional horizontal lamppost barred the way, as did mailboxes and newspaper vending machines. Buffy and Giles avoided the worst of the mess as they continued to pick their way along toward the center of town.

Tell me again, Buffy spoke, breaking the silence of the darkness around them. Exactly why would a vampire be hanging around this neighborhood? Giles, there isn't anyone here but us or the police to eat.

Perhaps not anyone, Giles countered, sidestepping a puddle of unidentifiable glop on the sidewalk. But there are…things.

One of those things chose that moment to skitter across Buffy's path. It was an enormous rat, its torpedo-shaped body fat from feeding on the garbage that lay piled and strewn through every alley. Buffy shivered involuntarily. The creature's sleek fur glistened silver in the dim moonlight, its fleshy naked tail lifted as it scampered directly toward her.

She paused, and the rat stopped at her feet, standing upright to bob its pointed muzzle as it sniffed her shoes. Its whiskers twitched, its black beady eyes looking her over before it finally turned away and ran off into the night.

Can a vamp really get enough blood from a rat to survive? she asked. Her thoughts wandered to Angel, her former vampire boyfriend. Since t he restoration of his soul, he'd existed for years on non-human sourced blood. It was disturbing to think of him chomping down on some filthy rat.

In theory, yes, Giles replied, answering her question. Though it would probably take quite a few to sustain its' needs. As I understand, a vampire can go feral if it doesn't feed often enough.

No problem with supply and demand here, she muttered as a sudden flood of additional rodents came pouring out of a broken window. The obscene parade tumbled to the sidewalk below, following the same path the other rat had taken, their bodies squirming and writhing as a fluid whole as they passed.

I am so going to burn my shoes when we get back, Buffy grumbled irritably.

They're harmless rodents, Giles returned, dismissing the retreating horde of small creatures. He continued down the sidewalk. You can do more damage to them than they can to you.

Do the words Bubonic Plague mean anything to you? Buffy snipped back as she caught up to his long strides.

You're more likely to contract the Hanta virus, Giles countered, pausing to peer into a storefront's shattered window. And it was actually the fleas on the rats, and not the animal itself that carried the plague.

Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.

The sarcasm in her voice cut through the night, and sent a shiver to run along Giles spine. He watched as Buffy leaned down and began scratching as her ankles while walking.

Hanta… he started to correct.

Hanta virus, plague, she scowled at him. Whatever it is, it itches.

They continued their patrol, Buffy occasionally pausing to scratch at some imaginary itch. The silence between them grew heavier with each step, hanging palatably between them like the cloying tickle of a spider web. Buffy found her concentration wandering, her thoughts roiling around what she could say to Giles that would make things better between them. But she was drawing a blank, and with a sigh she traipsed onward, following her Watcher further toward the center of town.

A sign dangled precariously from the corner of a building up ahead, swinging with a rusty creak at the slightest breeze. Buffy recognized the familiar wide arches of the Espresso Pump. She stepped around a toppled chair on the sidewalk as a ghostly sheaf of napkins fluttered free from a nearby dispenser atop a table. She fought the urge to sigh, finding herself deeply affected by the sight of one of her favorite haunts in such a sad state of ruin.

The Espresso Pump had been the scene of many happy moments. She and Willow often met there for a caffeine fix. Many sugary mochachino's had been consumed at these very same tables, accompanied by juicy gossip and laughter, the staples of a true friendship like the one she shared with the red headed witch.

Giles had his own memories with which to contend as he played his flashlight over the interior of the open restaurant. In a corner toward the back was where he would perform, playing his guitar as he sang, indulging in the occasional night out spent among other adults. It was his chance to unwind, to lay aside the constant burden of his calling fighting against the supernatural forces of a world the bulk of society refused to acknowledge existed. For a brief fraction of a second, he wondered wistfully what his life would have been like if he hadn't become a Watcher.

The casual friends he had made during his singing gigs were long gone now. Like most of the citizens of Sunnydale they had fled prior to the town's collapse, a small consolation to mitigate his sense of responsibility. Now the streets were empty of the life that had once thrived within these walls, and the only trace of its passing were the over turned pieces of furniture laying around them, and the glass fronted counter containing the few stale, half-nibbled baked goods the rats had yet to consume.

This is so weird, Buffy said, echoing his very thoughts. Will and I used to come here at least a couple times each week. And over there, she continued, pointing across the wide empty street. I used to take Dawn to play video games at that arcade when she was little. She had this real thing for Super Mario for a while. I think she liked saving the princess. She sighed. Guess those memories have all gone by the wayside.

Along with many others, I'm sure, Giles sympathized.

Leaving behind the restaurant, they meandered across the street, hopping from level to level of the pavement, much like one of the characters from Dawn's arcade game. As they approached what had once been the Magic Box, second home and headquarters to the Scoobies, she posed a curious thought to Giles that had popped into her head.

Did you really croon for cash at the Espresso Pump? Xander told me that they caught you there singing for the masses. What was up with that?

It was a diversion of sorts, Giles offered, readjusting the heavy satchel he carried over one shoulder. A chance to stretch my musical interests, while keeping in touch with others more my age.

What's wrong with touching people my age? she countered. A glance toward Giles revealed him wearing a strange, puzzled expression. She realized that the words she'd spoken didn't match the meaning she had intended, and she blushed, embarrassed. You know what I mean, she continued, glad that the night hid the awkwardness she felt. I thought hanging around with younger people was supposed to keep guys like you from getting old. Not that it worked or anything. she added with an acerbic grumble.

And there go my dreams of winning first place crown at the local beauty pageant this year, Giles dryly replied. I'm so disappointed. How ever shall I live down the humiliation?

Shaking her head in amusement, Buffy proceeding with her Watcher on their tour of the town center. Side by side, they explored the many alleys and side streets that once attracted the vampire population to Sunnydale, and while they found evidence of varied wild life in the rats, feral cats, stray dogs and more than a few raccoons foraging through numerous dumpsters, not one lone vampire was to be found.

They made a cursory pass through a nearby residential district, circling around again to the opposite end of downtown. The dark had fully enveloped the town by then as they closed in on the lengthening night.

Well, this has been a total waste of my time, Buffy announced. They had circled back to the empty lot that formerly housed the Magic Box. After Dark Willow's wrathful destruction of the shop, Giles' had been forced to close the business for good, razing the remaining shell of the building for safety reasons. Fortunately, he was able to salvage some of the shop's more rare and valuable merchandize. With Anya's help, and the miracle of e-commerce, he was able to recoup most of his loss. Owning the property and the building as well, he found an eager buyer willing to invest in a downtown business, and sold the empty lot, banking the resulting profits for future use. It was part of the financial cache currently funding their living arrangements, and allowing them all to recover from the worst ravages of the Hellmouth battle at their own comfortable pace.

Buffy, I can't stress how crucial it is that we be absolutely sure the Hellmouth is secure.

Giles, we haven't seen hide nor hair of one single monster tonight. I think it's safe to say this place is completely closed down.

As if to prove her wrong, a loud suspicious noise rang out from a storefront down the street. Immediately, Buffy tensed, preparing for trouble, her Watcher just as alert as he stepped up to her side.

You were saying? Giles muttered in a sotto whisper.

Removing a stake from her back pocket, Buffy held it at ready as she moved forward. Giles followed on her heel, his hand reaching blindly into the bag at his side, and fishing through the various weapons for something for something suitable to use. He came up with a pistol-sized crossbow, loading and readying the armament as they closed in on the ongoing racket from inside the darkened shop.

They were standing outside of Meyer's Sports and Tackle. The noises continued without any fear of discovery. Buffy could hear several voices talking now. She counted at least three, possibly four. She held up several fingers to indicate the same to Giles, who nodded in agreement as they considered what to do next.

Buffy made the decision for them. Hoping to gain the element of surprise, she pocketed her flashlight, and vaulting through the large opening that had once been a window, charged head first up a long, narrow aisle toward the voices. She moved swiftly, and quietly, not that her targets made any attempt to conceal their position. She could hear Giles' heavier footfall following behind her, and though he moved slightly slower, his longer legs covered the ground quickly as he ran toward what would possibly soon be a heated confrontation.

Flying past a long rack of fishing rods, Buffy had reached the back of the store. She rounded the end of the aisle, adjusting her direction toward what appeared to be a huge hole in the outside wall. She took stock of the situation, quickly noting every minute detail of the scene's layout. Several dark bulky figures blocked the improvised opening. Just beyond a large pick-up truck was parked in the side alley, its engine idling loudly as it waited. A light was somehow being run off the truck's inboard generator, illuminating the bed that held an assortment of boxes and equipment as well as a goodly part of the store. Another stockpile of goods lay next to the makeshift opening, waiting and ready to load onto the truck, which two of the men were currently in the process of doing.

Buffy skidded to a stop, but the slick floor allowed momentum to carry her forward a few extra feet. The men turned around to confront her, faces registering various degrees of surprise. They obviously weren't expecting an intrusion upon their covert operation, but upon spotting the petite blonde, any trepidation soon vanished. Buffy did not pose a threatening presence, the men immediately seeing her as a nuisance to scare off. That attitude quickly changed, however, when Giles came bursting around the corner, complicating what till then had seemed a simple problem.

Rushing forward, Buffy tackled the nearest man. He was large and beefy, his muscled form solid, yet he easily crumpled as she ran him down. They tumbled backward onto the ground, her body tucking into a curl to roll with their fall. Immediately, she flipped and righted herself again, springing free of the man's clutches before he could react.

Bouncing to her feet, she spun into a twirl, one leg shooting out to swipe at the next man standing in line. This one doubled with a whoop of exhaled breath, and she neatly completed her roundabout turn with fist in his face. Her blow caught him squarely on his broad jaw, sending him sprawling onto the floor. He landed atop his already fallen companion, a loud moan escaping his huge form.

All this happened within a span of mere seconds. Popping upright, Buffy stared menacingly at her remaining opponents, one hand still clenched around her stake, the other balled into a tight fist and ready to strike out at the next target.

A warning niggled at the slayer's brain. Something was off. Even the most inept of vampires put up more of a fight, and these two men had gone down far too quickly. Her brain processed the dozens of facts involved in the brief skirmish, the conclusion hitting her with a shock. These weren't vamps at all. These men were…men! And completely human.

From the corner of her eye she spotted Giles across the room. His arm was extended, the cross bow aimed at one of the three standing men. The Brit had drawn a bead on a broad, bearded bear of a bruiser, a hulk who could easily have weighed upward of four hundred pounds. His finger pressed the weapon's trigger, ready to let the pointed bolt fly. Even as he began to squeeze, he heard Buffy yell out her revelation about the men's' identity, but it was too late to undo what had started. The arrow shot forward, singing through the air as it flew straight and true, moving across the open space in fractions of a second.

Reacting simultaneously with the unleashed projectile, Buffy swiped a leg low, catching the burly man across his lower legs. He immediately dropped downward, knees knocked out from under, the arrow passing within a hair's breadth of his head.

The arrow struck the wall behind its intended target, embedding deeply into the plaster with a resounding twang. If it hadn't been for Buffy's timely kick, it would have been the man's heart that had been run through, a deadly testament to Giles' skill with the crossbow.

This fact was not lost on the strapping younger fellow. Ignoring Buffy completely, he turned toward Giles, his face contorting in rage as he staggered back to his feet. With a bullish roar, he charged for the Brit, spittle flying from his mouth like a mad animal.

Giles froze, the truck's lighting cast across his face, his alarm transparent in his wide eyes as the stampeding bully lumber down upon him. At the last possible moment, he staggered to one side, barely avoiding the attack that was meant to take him down.

Why you mother. . .

The rest of the profanity was lost in a furious bellow as the big man blew past Giles, crashing instead into an end aisle display beyond them. Unable to stop, his huge body ricocheted off the shelving, arms swinging and taking down a few dozen boxes of assorted lead weights and bi-colored bobbers that an attached sign pronounced as the sale of the week. An avalanche of metal bits and ping-pong sized balls scattered far and wide in a thundering tattoo. The various inventory dispersed in a wave that covered the floor for several yards around, setting the scene for a possible disaster.

Scrambling to remain upright in the suddenly onslaught, Giles grabbed at the rack of fishing rods behind him. A cascade of fiberglass poles whipped violently around him, entangling his limbs as it stripped the crossbow from his grip. His weapon went flying, his feet skittering precariously among the scattered floats, followed by Giles own impious epithet. The curse gave voice to the pain that assaulted his body from seemingly every angle, and punctuated the continuing clatter of plastic balls upon the hard floor.

Buffy didn't have time to worry about how her Watcher was faring. She was suddenly busy with her own unfolding drama. The last two looters had catapulted into action, double teaming her in a rush fueled as much by panic as anger. While they demanded her full attention, she dispatched the more enthusiastic of the pair in a matter of seconds, using a side swiping kick to send him sailing out the hole in the wall. His partner threw an errant punch, which she easily ducked, and returned with one of her own that landed solidly with a smack to the man's nose.

As her opponent staggered back, clutching a hand over his now bloody face, Buffy gave her attention to the commotion across the room. Giles' foe had regained his footing, and at some point had managed to get his arms around the Brit, and the two were now grappling like wrestlers, their bodies bouncing from one side of the aisle to the other, knocking merchandise from the shelves with every slamming contact.

The two men finally broke apart, and Giles got enough distance to throw a good punch. While his antagonist had the advantage of youth and size, the Brit had his share of surprises to bring to the fracas. With a background in various martial arts, and years of training his slayer, Giles might never approach the level of fighting that Buffy had attained, but he was more than a match for an unskilled scrapper in a hand to hand street fight. Bringing together a composite style born of textbook moves and raw pub alley brawl, the Watcher delivered a series of hits and bare-knuckle punches. The rapid assualt quickly brought his foe to his knees, and one final kick sent the man toppling to the ground, his huge body landing amid the numerous plastic spheres.

There was no time to gloat over his personal victory. A loud siren was ringing out through the night, the rising crescendo fast approaching, and announcing the arrival of the police.

An all too familiar blue pulsing light filled the store's interior. Each combatant turned as one to face its source. For a moment the scene appeared frozen in time, and then a booming voice emanated from the PA of the cruiser's interior.

This is the police. Come out with your hands in the air, and no one will get hurt.

The announcement had the opposite effect of its intended purpose. Exploding into action, everyone in the store immediately scattered to avoid capture. Six bodies rushed for the hole leading to the alleyway where the seventh man outside was only beginning to struggle to his feet. He let out a startled scream, backing away from the onslaught of humanity headed in his direction, trying to avoid the sudden exodus of the store.

Buffy was the first to reach the gaping exit. She leapt gracefully toward the parked truck, landing in the vehicle's overloaded bed. Her feet nimbly climbed the steps formed by various sized cardboard boxes, her path taking her up and over the roof. In a powerful jump, she flung her body upward and out, grabbing at a fire escape ladder hanging overhead. Swinging her feet in a rising arc, she twisted her body, shooting up onto the balcony above. There she turned and waited, observing the scene below as the action continued to unfold.

Like the rats earlier, the men came pouring out of the hole in the wall, spilling into the bed of the truck. Buffy searched anxiously for her Watcher's face, but didn't see him among the pileup. Her concern for the Brit grew as the last of the looters cleared the store, their companion on the ground jumping into the idling truck. Immediately, he gunned the idling engine to life, and the getaway vehicle fishtailed down the narrow lane, bumping and grinding gears as it sped toward the mouth of the alleyway.

The bright blue light flashed again, and suddenly the passage's exit was blocked by the police cruiser. Its escape foiled, the pickup full of looters and their contraband came to a screeching halt, its passengers yelling as they were thrown all about, the truck narrowly avoiding what had seemed an inevitable crash.

Once again the police siren went off, followed by the command to remain put. Buffy nervously looked toward the gaping hole in the wall. A lone shadow emerged from the dimly lit interior, swaying slightly at the edge of the opening. She breathed an urgent sigh. It was Giles, and he had seen the police at the mouth of the alley. Realizing his predicament put a newfound urgency into his next move as he retreated back into the store, disappearing once again from sight.

Sprinting up an aisle toward the opposite end of the shop, Giles covered the distance in swift order. Without his flashlight, he was running blind, but he darted instinctively among the shelves and fallen merchandise, making good his escape toward the front entry.

With a grumbled snarl, Buffy realized where the Brit was heading. Leaping over the balcony, she rode a nearby downspout pipe like a fireman's pole, dropping to the ground. With a last look over her shoulder, she bolted across the dark alley unseen, and scrambling up and through the open wall, followed Giles' retreating path. She caught up to him as he vaulted out the missing frame that had once been the shop's display window. Side by side, the pair hit the ground at a dead run, skidding into a sharp turn before dashing away into the night.

One of the police officers spotted them as Giles slowed to scoop and retrieve his abandoned weapons bag from the sidewalk. He slung the heavy satchel across his shoulder, his longer legs soon making up lost time, and together Watcher and slayer scrambled across the ruins of a deserted Maple Court.

They didn't stop until they had put several blocks behind them. By then, the cruisers blue light was well in the distance, and fading further from sight with every frantic step. Rounding a corner, and then another, Buffy could hear Giles gasping for breath as he gradually began to lose speed beside her. They were safe, if only for the moment, and she decided it was safe to risk stopping briefly so that her companion in crime could catch his breath.

Clinging to a lamppost for support, Giles could feel his heart pounding against his chest. His body ached, his lungs burning as he struggled to suck in huge gulps of air. It was several minutes before he could even attempt to speak. When he finally found his voice, it was raspy and low, belying the excitement of his expression.

Well, that was bracing, he announced, a devilish gleam glinting in his eyes.

We need to keep moving. Buffy frowned, peering around a corner to see if they were being followed. She could hear the faint commotion of the police siren in the distance, but no blue light dogged their escape. Turning back to Giles, she grabbed him by his shirt front, and gave him a rough shove, propelling him along down the sidewalk to increase the distance between them an possible pursuit.

Dragging his feet, Giles broke into a slow trot, trying valiantly to keep up with his young slayer. They skirted the edges of the downtown district, eventually ducking down Elm Street once again. Buffy didn't let Giles stop until they had arrived at their parked car, and she could finally breathe her first small sigh of relief.

They weren't out of danger yet. The police were still out there patrolling the town, and they had several blocks to travel before they reached the highway. Tossing his bag onto the back seat of his car, Giles slid in, collapsing behind the wheel, his heart still beating strongly from his recent exertion.

Climbing into the vehicle from the opposite side, Buffy sat next to her Watcher, he body trembling slightly from unused adrenalin. She sank back in her seat as Giles cranked the engine over, and the motor quickly sprang to life. With wheels spinning, the car took off, headlights bouncing wildly as they sped down the uneven street in the final leg of their escape.

As they passed the city limits, leaving Sunnydale behind them for good, Buffy closed her eyes, allowing herself to finally relax. It didn't take long for them to travel the few miles to the motel, and soon they were pulling into the parking lot, safe at last in familiar surroundings.

Pulling into an empty space, Giles parked the car, and turned off the engine. Opening her eyes again, Buffy glanced over at her companion only to find him wearing a broad, and completely inappropriate for their circumstance grin. A wistful look of joy was glowing across the Brit's normally proper and serious countenance. There was no mistaking his mood. Giles was in high spirits, and feeling thoroughly pleased with himself at that moment. She would even go so far as to say he was happy.

Reaching across the seat, Buffy delivered a backhanded punch to the Brit's upper bicep, bringing him out of his bliss and back into reality. I don't know why you're smiling, she reprimanded with an angry hiss. We nearly wound up in jail with the Sunnydale Seven as our bunkmates!

And yet we managed to get away, Giles countered gleefully. I'd say the night was a success.

Shaking her head, Buffy leaned her head forward, banging it gently against the dashboard in frustration. Giles ignored her dramatic demonstration, and reaching into the back seat, grabbed his satchel, hauling it with him as he exited the car.

On the bright side, we'll be better prepared for the next time, he offered encouragingly.

Buffy bolted upright. Next time? she echoed, her tone pitched high with incredulous ire. She flung the car door open, jumping to her feet to stare down the Brit across the hood of the car. Next time? There will be no next time. Not now. Not ever.

Buffy…

No! She spat out the word venomously, making sure he knew she was serious. Giles, I can't afford to be arrested. Maybe you're used to a life of crime, but I've got Dawn to worry about. How am I going to take care of my sister from inside the slammer?

She could feel her temper boiling now, rising in response to her growing agitation. She gave the car door a shove, closing it with a loud slam before turning on her Watcher and exploding into a commanding tirade.

As of now, I'm officially declaring the Hellmouth closed and off limits. It's too risky, Giles. We're not going back there again. Ever!

Buffy…

Again, no! You had your chance. I went along with your stupid plan. And what did it get us? We went, we patrolled, and we didn't see a single vampire in that place. Face it, Giles. You were wrong. Again!

She waited expectantly for the argument she knew was coming, mentally gathering her rebutting defense. Giles' eyes became cold and stoic, his smile suddenly gone, replaced instead by a dark scowl. She waited, but instead of unleashing his usual sputtering torrent of big words, Giles said nothing.

The Brit's silence took her by surprise. After a tense few moments, Giles looked away. His shoulders drooped slightly, his entire posture dissolving in a wordless surrender to her demand.

If that's what you think is best, he conceded, his voice low and quiet, devoid of any obvious emotion. He sounded tired to Buffy, which only made sense, considering the all the fighting and running he'd been involved in that night.

Struck by a flash of guilt, Buffy watched the Brit age before her eyes. Gone was the optimistic, lighthearted rascal she'd seen earlier that day. Once again, her Watcher looked every bit his forty odd years, and then some. The emotional walls were back up, and any strides toward reconciliation were gone. She was right back where she had started as if the last twenty four hours had never even happened.

Giles turned away, the bag heavy across his shoulder as he walked toward his room. His lack of fight was disturbing to see, and Buffy could feel the gulf between them widening further, stretching to a point where it could never be bridged. She had spent the last few weeks making restitution to her closest friends. She had managed to repair the damage done to their relationships, so why was Giles proving difficult for her to reach.

Giles, wait! She couldn't end the evening this way. Whether it was her fault of his, things needed to change. This man had been a big part of her life, and she couldn't abandon all that he was simply because she was growing up.

The Brit reluctantly stopped at her request. Was it mere politeness that had stayed his progress, or was he afraid of disappointing her yet again? Either way, it didn't matter. It was her chance to make things better, and she plunged into the offered opportunity head on without any hesitation.

There's something I've been thinking about for a couple days now. It's this sort of crazy idea I had, and I'd like to get you're take on it.

Giles sighed, speaking without turning around to face her.

It's late, Buffy, and frankly, I'm tired. Could it possibly wait until tomorrow?

Tomorrow? Sure. No big rush. Hey! The gang's meeting at my place for pizza and a movie. Why don't you come over. We're renting a Guy Ritchie film. Lots of violence. Plenty of indecipherable British dialogue. You could translate for us.

At least I'm still useful for something.

It might have been meant as sarcasm, but the words felt uncomfortably heavy, carrying a deeper significance. Once again Buffy felt the ground shift, the chasm growing between them.
Tomorrow then? she repeated, hoping to prompt a reply. Giles lifted a hand, acknowledging her request, and resumed trudging forward to his room.

G'nite, Giles! she called out as the Brit disappeared, the door closing with a grim finality behind him. She waited. It was several long minutes later before the lights snapped on behind the curtain, and she could see Giles' shadow moving slowly beyond the shielded window.

And what fresh new Hell hath we wrought for ourselves now, Buffy Summers? she muttered aloud as she turned and began walking toward her own room across the way. It was going to be another long sleepless night. One spent ruminating over and over all the tough decisions she'd made, and figuring out how to make life better for everyone she loved.