by Lisette: Lisette_an@hotmail.com

Legalese: The television series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters and material belong to Joss Whedon and UPN.  All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.  I claim ownership solely of the story idea - no profit will be made by this.

Author's Note: Well hot dang!  I guess that there are some Snape fans out there after all!  Well, if that's the case then you should enjoy this next chapter where we get to see our favorite Potions Professor be as snarky as ever! ;p And thank you for all of your tremendous reviews!  Once more I was planning on being evil and draw this out till tomorrow, but with so many of you clamoring for more, I could hardly keep you waiting!  And in addition, I wanted to take this opportunity to state that we're now in the end stretch.  Even though this post puts RWD up to the same length as ToF in its completion, the longer chapters have really done the trick and we now have ten chapters to go.  And I promise, I think that the stage how now been set and from here on in, things are beginning to heat up.  I hope you all continue to enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!  And on that note, a huge thanks, as always, to SparkySparkles, Ali Mystic (for all THREE reviews! ;p), Harry, Empress, Wild320, Kiwi, Rob, Catlimere, X-Lander, jezowen, Rosie, Tara, Angel, VB, and Saturn Maiden.

Lala: Don't worry - no real Xander/Faith pairings.  Anything going on is more like a hopeful fantasy on Xander's part - not to mention the fact that I can't see them as ever really making a believable couple.  'Sides, he deserves nothing but the best.  I LOVE Xander's character!

poppie: My weekend was WONDERFUL!  Thanks for asking!  Then again, I came back all broken and with bruised ribs due to a long afternoon spent playing kickball and drunken volleyball with my family - I have an older brother and his way of showing affection is hugging me till things go crack and then leaving my skin all nice and purple colored. ;p I'm only now moving without pain.  Older brothers... yikes! ;p Anyway, on with the story!

"Everyone knows they're going to die... but nobody believes it.  If we did, we would do things differently."
-Morrie Schwartz-

    With fluid motions the school's mediwitch flitted around the large infirmary, scouring through her cupboards and filling her arms with bottles upon bottles of potions and salves and depositing them on the small table beside the potions professor.  Clucking quietly to herself over the condition of her newest patient, she waved her wand with a flourish and began uncorking various remedies, forcing them past the man's resisting lips - her work all set to a thick silence that was filled with the occasional snicker from the teens that had gathered beside the young slayer's bed.  Even though such distractions were small, Poppy Pomfrey would have long since forced the children, as well as Sirius Black, Rubeus Hagrid and Rupert Giles to leave the room, were it not for the prompt arrival of Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Lupin, proving indeed that there was very little that transpired in the school without the headmaster's knowledge.

    As another snicker was released from one of the teens - most likely the Weasley boy, seeing as how Master Potter was much too occupied with assuring himself that the small slayer would be alright, and Miss Granger was far too sensible - Poppy's patient began to resist her treatments even more, a fierce scowl aimed first in her direction before turning towards the group that gathered beside the slayer.

    "Fifty points from Gryffindor for Weasley being an insufferable prat," Snape growled, his eyes glaring daggers at the two boys that always strove to make his life a living hell, "and an additional twenty for the havoc I'm sure that Potter has wreaked in my absence," he added, his frown tightening as instead of looking miffed, the boys' grins only heightened.

    "Professor Snape, would you kindly refrain from scowling at the children long enough for me to finish my work?" Poppy broke in, her tone clipped as she sent her own glare to the group gathered nearby, her eyes narrowing slightly as she realized that it had been Sirius Black who had been snickering, and not the children.  "And Mr. Black, if you don't contain yourself then I shall be forced to remove you from this room along with your godson and his friends," she added, her tone harsh as she turned back with yet another bottle of healing potion.  "Now hold still, Professor Snape," she ordered as she lifted her wand to begin another set of-

    "Madam Pomfrey," Snape quickly cut in, his usually soft, and silkily cold voice now rough and hoarse from the many different potions that had burned down his throat, "if you do not immediately desist in your annoyingly persistent meddling, then I will be forced to do something rash," he warned, his glare settling on the indignant mediwitch as she huffed at his words.

    Lips settling into an even tighter line, Pomfrey found herself straightening her shoulders, her glare icy.  While she had no problems restoring Harry Potter to his usual health, the inability to treat the girl had left the mediwitch at a loss.  She had never before been faced with an injury that she couldn't treat, and the sight of Mister Giles, of all people, working to stop the bleeding and wrapping his ward's wounds in a foreign, muggle way did nothing to alleviate her feelings of helplessness.  When Snape had come traipsing in the room looking as though he had to battle half of You-Know-Who's death eaters to make it there, she had felt as though she had been given a chance to redeem herself.  Foolish really, for how could she have forgotten what a difficult patient the Potions Master had always been?  "You will take these potions or I'll-"

    "Poppy, let him be," Dumbledore stated quietly, interrupting her tirade and gently touching her elbow, drawing her away even as she glared at all those that surrounded her before huffing and stalking back towards her office.  Smiling ruefully at her departure, the aging headmaster moved forward and laid a gentle hand on the potion professor's shoulder.  "It's good to have you back, Severus," he murmured, noting how Snape's glare seemed to dim for the briefest moment before returning to his normal, grouchy state.  To anyone else, it would seem as though this was the last place that the man wanted to be - but to Dumbledore... Dumbledore could read the relief that was hidden in the man's dark eyes.  "What news do you bring us?" he asked, getting straight to the heart of the matter.  After all, the headmaster was no fool.  He realized that once the school had closed and Snape had become trapped within Voldemort's dark world, it would take far more risk to leave that world than to remain there - and only something truly grave would have driven the Potions Master back to Hogwarts.

    Sighing, Snape slowly shook off his anger and turned towards the headmaster, his expression turning even more grim.  "It seems that Potter wasn't the only one who received a curse scar," he stated, his words instantly causing a hush to fall over the room.  "And apparently, the connection that they share works both ways," he continued, his eyes slipping past to watch as the boy wonder seemed to pale at his words, Sirius' hand landing on his godson's shoulder.  "For the past few weeks Voldemort has used that connection to see things through Potter, just as Potter looks in on Voldemort.  Therefore, what he wasn't able to learn about the slayer through a mole that he placed in the Council of Watchers, he had learned from the slayer herself whilst talking with Potter," he finished, his dark eyes turning past Potter and locking on the small blond that had to be the slayer that he had heard so much about.  She was tiny, blond, pale, and looked so fragile - but then again, Severus, out of anyone, realized how much looks could be deceiving.

    Buffy, meanwhile, felt the cold knot in her stomach slowly grow until it was like ice in her veins.  The stuff that she had shared with Harry had taken a lot of courage for her to reveal and it was stuff that she hadn't spoken to anyone about - not even Giles.  But she had shared that information with Harry, and now, unknowingly it seemed that they had always had a third party in those private conversations.  The Dark Lord himself.  And that knowledge was quickly turning that ice into a fiery anger - an anger that wasn't helped by the fact that she was hurting like nothing else, weaker than she'd care to admit, with no chance of sleep and without even a couple of Tylenol to take the bite away.  Plus, it didn't exactly help her morale any to see Harry moving about the room with ease, looking as though he hadn't just been mauled in a vicious bear attack a short while before.  Stupid, freaking slayer powers that wouldn't let their magic make her go poof all better.  Scowling, she lifted one hand and absently began scratching at the heavy white gauze that layered her healing shoulder and chest, only to have her hand swatted away by her watcher who had yet to move from her bed-ridden side.  Sparing a brief glare that only matched Giles' own, Buffy shook her head and turned her attention back to the gaunt-looking man that had just effectively dropped a bombshell and cast the room into silence.  Well, Buffy never really could stand such oppressive silence - especially when her anger was this blinding.

    "Okay, that's it!" she fumed, making quite a few people jump with her sudden outburst.  Green eyes narrowed, Buffy let her senses fly free, straining to see if she could sense the Dark Lord's presence - only to find that there were just too many powerful and magical people already in the room for her to tell for sure.  Not that something like that had ever stopped her before.  "Listen up, Moldy Wart," she continued, her voice icy.  "If you're listening in right now, then listen to this: your stupid parlor tricks aren't going to work anymore and they're not going to drive me away!" she called out, head swiveling this way and that, eyes searching for something that she couldn't see.  "There's nothing you can do to make me leave this fight.  You can threaten me all you want because it doesn't matter - threats against my life have never worked before and it won't work now.  In fact, it just pisses me off even more!  Big old spooky Dark Lord or not, you're getting your ass kicked one way or the other, whether you like it or not."

    For a moment more the room sat in silence as everyone stared at the tiny little slayer with more than a little amusement and a just amount of awe for her angry words.  Amused himself by the child's spunk, Snape watched as the stranger beside the girl's bed rolled his eyes dramatically before breaking into a harsh lecture, all of which she seemed to dutifully ignore.  Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the headmaster who's eyes seemed to twinkle brighter than ever.  "I came as soon as I was able," he murmured, already berating himself for not being quicker and being unable to prevent the evident attack on both Potter and the slayer - an unsuccessful attack.  It seemed as though Voldemort would need to try hard indeed to shake this new opponent.

    "And this time you won't be able to go back," Dumbledore returned, reading his old pupil so easily.

    "Not any more," Snape confirmed, his shame at his failure warring with an indescribable feeling of relief at his words.  Working as Dumbledore's spy was his way to redeem his past actions as a death eater - to help atone for all of the evil that he had committed in his wayward youth.  But to finally be free of the darkness and to be a part of the light once more... it was a soothing balm to his aching soul.

    "Peace, Severus," the headmaster returned, his voice soft as his blue eyes met eyes that were nearly black.  "I am just gratified to have you back with us once more, my friend."

    "Can you tell us anymore about Voldemort's plans?" Remus asked, finally tuning out Giles' lecture long enough to turn back to the potions master.

    "No," Snape returned, his voice dark and bitter.  "Ever since the Dark Lord realized that Potter could see what he saw, he's refused to speak of his plans to anyone.  Not even those amongst his inner most circles know what he plots," he finished, sighing softly as he watched the werewolf's shoulders sag slightly beneath his words.  Shaking his head, he slowly turned until his dark eyes were locked on Potter's.  "Do you still have the potion that I prepared for you before I left?"

    Harry didn't even have to ask for clarification to know of what Snape was asking.  There was only one potion that the professor had ever made for him, and it was the one potion that he had promised himself that he would never use, no matter how bad the pain from his curse scar became.  Even if the pain spelled his death, he had always refused to take the easy route, knowing that he could be gathering useful information for Dumbledore - information that their side needed.  After years of being protected, of people doing so much to keep his miserable life safe, Harry couldn't sit back any longer.  He had to help, and at the time, this had seemed the only way possible.  "Yes," he replied, his tone cautious and dreading what he knew would come next.

    "Then perhaps it is time for Harry to begin taking it," Dumbledore sighed, a small frown pulling at his lips, spelling the words that Harry had known would eventually come.

    For the briefest of moments, Harry thought to argue against this decision - to point out that it was his decision to make.  After all, how could they possibly take away the one way that he was able to fight back against Voldemort?  Not directly of course, but by providing valuable intelligence he was helping their side.  He was doing something.  But then it only took one look at Buffy's small frame, huddled on the hospital bed before him to be reminded in the worst possible of ways of how much he was helping their side.  Furious with himself and at his fate, Harry turned away from the others without a word, shrugging off Sirius' hand and storming from the room.

    It was all his fault.  All his fault that Buffy had been hurt, that they had been attacked, that Voldemort even knew who Buffy was.  Snape hadn't said it directly, but Harry knew it was what everyone was thinking.  Somehow, he should have known!  It didn't matter if even Dumbledore himself hadn't thought of this, all that mattered was that Harry should have somehow known that Voldemort was there, spying on him and those he loved.  He should have felt his presence or something.  It didn't matter that Buffy herself, with her slayer senses couldn't even sense Voldemort.  Harry was the one connected to him and he should have known.

    "Harry, wait up!"

    Oblivious to the world around him, Harry strode forward, his robes whipping around his lean frame as his angry thoughts whirled through his troubled mind.  It took someone pulling at his elbow and swinging him around for him to finally realize that Ron had been chasing after him, calling after him all of this time.  And before his friend could even say a word, Harry quickly cut in, his voice angry and his green eyes snapping with self-hatred.  "Instead of making things better, I've been making things worse!  Instead of helping our side, I've been helping Voldemort all along!  I should have known better!  I haven't gotten a thing from him in the last few months, not a thing!  I should have-"

    "Harry," Ron interrupted, his voice soft as he gently rest a hand on Harry's shaking shoulder, "you couldn't have known that Voldemort was using the connection backwards.  Dumbledore didn't even know."

    Sighing, Harry felt his anger crumble beneath a heavy wall of despair.  Turning, he allowed himself to sag back against the cold stone wall, sliding down until he was hunched on the floor.  "Does that matter?" he asked, his green eyes beseeching his friend for the answers to his question - answers that he knew Ron couldn't give.  "We were almost killed today - Buffy was almost killed today because Voldemort used her secrets against her.  Her secrets that she had only shared with me.  I feel like I betrayed her."

    "But you didn't."

    Sighing, Harry slowly turned his head and locked eyes with Buffy as she slowly and painfully made her way to the two friends.  He knew that she shouldn't be out of bed - not as weak as she was after the severe blood loss that she suffered.  Then again, he also knew that there was no way that Giles could have kept her in the infirmary if she wanted to go.  He wasn't even surprised that she had found them, for if there was one thing about Buffy, it was that she had a knack for finding those who didn't want to be found - especially him.

    Slowly, Buffy moved to Harry's side and allowed Ron to help her slide down the wall until she was seated beside him, both resting side by side and allowing their gazes to lock on the blank wall of stone that rest opposite of them.  Idly, she noted as Ron slid down the wall on the other side of Harry, helping her to flank their friend on either side and quietly offering him his support as only as a friend could.  His support and his comfort.  "Harry, you didn't betray me anymore than you made Berry go all 'when-good-pets-go-bad' on us," she said, her lips lifting in a wry smile.  "Don't try to take credit for Moldy Wart's bad guy routine."

    "But I hurt you," he murmured, his voice soft.

    "Moldy Wart hurt me," Buffy corrected gently.  "And don't worry, 'cause trust me when I say that I'm going to hurt him back soon enough."

    "But now they're going to take my visions away," Harry returned, refusing to smile at her light words.  His heart was far too heavy for that.  "If they do that, then I truly am helpless.  I don't want people to risk themselves to protect me anymore.  I want to protect them, and I can't protect anyone while trapped in here."

    Sighing softly, Buffy slowly shifted until she was leaning lightly against his side, her head falling down until it was pillowed against his arm.  "I learned long ago that you can't protect everyone," she murmured, her voice soft as she thought back to all of the people that she herself had failed to protect.  There were many to think of over her short years as Buffy and her long years as the Slayer - too many, and too many of them still hurt to think back on.  "You can't ever protect everyone and instead you have to focus on those that you can protect.  They're the ones to work on - everything else doesn't matter.  Just those you can save."

    Closing his eyes, Harry allowed her words to flow over him as he gently searched out her hand with his own, comforted by her warmth against one side and Ron's gentle nudges on the other.  "Just those I can save," he murmured, parroting her words and focusing on them until all of his past failures dissipated from his.  "Those I can save..."

    In a castle as old as Hogwarts, small drafts always inevitably worked their way through cracks in the stone surface, fighting their way inside so that they could buffet against the warm flame of a candle - flickering the lights in a way that comforted - a way that muggle electricity could never quite mimic.  Too bad that sometimes, not even the familiarity of what he had once lost and now reveled in wasn't quite enough to battle his demons.  

    The inner battle that had raged within him from the moment that he heard of Buffy's injury had spanned hours.  Many hours.  Now, with the bright moonlight illuminating their shared common room, Giles found his eyes wandering to Buffy's closed bedroom door for the hundredth time that hour, if not that minute, and he found himself warring with himself once more.  It all came down to the question of whether he should stay or whether he should go - a phrase that inevitably reminded him of an old song that some bizarre American group remade into a parody of a squirrel debating on whether to cross a busy highway or not - should he stay or should he go - the end result being the squirrel's death by a speeding car.  In the squirrel's case, he should have stayed.  But in the watcher's...

    Seeing as how Poppy could find no magical means to force Buffy to remain in the school's infirmary, especially since there was nothing the mediwitch could do for her injuries anyway, Buffy had been released hours before with strict orders to forgo patrol for a few nights and remain in her room under lock and key for some much-needed rest.  If Giles was lucky, he figured that he'd be able to keep her in bed until tomorrow morning at the latest.  But no patrol tomorrow?  Highly unlikely.  As it was, it was a struggle to convince her that the Forbidden Forest could last one night without her sword.  So to bed she went - reluctantly - and he hadn't seen her since.  And even though her glance had told him that the past was forgotten, Giles couldn't let it rest.  Not yet.  Which brought him back to the inevitable question: dare he stay or dare he go?

    Rolling his eyes as the annoying American tune played once more in his mind, Giles quickly pushed back from his desk and moved towards the kettle of fresh tea that he had kept nice and hot over the roaring flame.  He dared to go, for if not, he was quite sure that the bloody song would drive him insane.  Grimacing at the thought, he quickly poured a fresh cup of tea and moved towards the closed door, his excuse in hand.  Pausing only long enough to knock, Giles pushed open the heavy wood door and poked his head around the side of the frame, his eyes easily finding his small slayer, propped against a mountain of pillows and her small frame all but buried beneath the sky blue comforter, a heavy book perched in her lap.  "May I come in?" he asked, realizing how inanely British he sounded at that moment, the epitome of formal as his slayer tilted her chin to the side in a manner that was so familiar it instantly clenched at his heart.

    "Giles, I slept on your couch for three months - I think that thereby excuses you from asking for permission to come in," she responded dryly as she waved him in, absently tucking a lock of blond behind one small ear as her green eyes met with his, curiosity shining in their depths.

    Smiling timidly, Giles slowly made his way into the room, the steaming cup of tea in one hand.  "I-I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

    "Just the wonderful world of the Dark Arts," Buffy returned, smiling wryly as she flashed the cover of the book that he had given her months ago.  "Which really equates to no, no interruption whatsoever," she quickly added as Giles seemed to debate leaving her with the book that must have been written by an illiterate fool.  After all, didn't they have editors in Giles' mother country?  If so, either they were getting paid too little or too much because they certainly weren't doing their job.  Who spells color or flavor with an 'ou' anyway?  "Pop a squat and tell me what's up," she instructed, patting the bedcovers beside her.

    "Yes, well," Giles began, gingerly taking the proffered seat even as he bypassed her odd phrasings.  He had known Buffy and her friends for far too long to allow such a simple yet complex phrase phase him now.  But as the silence thickened, the watcher knew that he would have to start sometime - he just never realized how difficult it was going to be, and Buffy certainly didn't seem willing to help him out.  Or perhaps, she was truly clueless as to his reason for being there.  Perhaps his slayer forgave and forgot far easier than he.  "I brought you tea," he quickly stated, remembering the steaming cup in his hand and nearly thrusting it into Buffy's.

    Frowning, Buffy accepted the cup, her eyes dipping down to take in the brown, watery depths before looking at her watcher once more.  "Gee, you shouldn't have," she deadpanned, wondering what on Earth had her watcher so flustered.  It wasn't like she was mortally wounded or anything - she'd experienced far worse in her time as a slayer - and there didn't seem to be any new big bad on the horizon.  After all, you couldn't get much bigger or badder than old Moldy Wart himself.  Which left only... "Everything's alright in Sunnydale, right?" she quickly asked, her eyes boring into his as all of the old fears were awakened within her.  If Xander or Willow-

    "S-Sunnydale?" Giles returned, obviously confused by her question.  "Well yes, I'd imagine so," he continued, wondering where this had come from.  "Elizabeth's last letter did state the the threat of this creature, Adam, was increasing, but she did have complete confidence that the group would find a way to defeat it.  She had mentioned something about a spell that Willow had found... and where did this come from?" he asked, his green eyes turning to his slayer.

    "Well you were all nervous and twitchy," Buffy explained, unable to deny the relief that swept through her body as she sagged back against her pillows.  One of her biggest fears was that something would happen to everyone that she loved back home - that something would come up that Faith was unable to handle for some reason - something that could have been prevented if only she had been there with her friends.  If anything ever happened to any of them while she was away... well, Buffy doubted that she'd be able to hang on to the sanity that she was only now regaining, thanks to the amazing patience of one Harry Potter.  "I figured you had some bad news or something for me - trying to decide how to break it to my fragile self," she added, her tone self-depreciating as she waved absently to her battered form.

    Deciding that there couldn't possibly come a better opening, Giles cleared his throat loudly as his eyes skipped away.  "Well, yes, about that," he murmured, forcing a deep breath before turning back towards his slayer.  "There is something that I wanted to talk to you about - about these past few-"

    "Hey, no big," Buffy quickly broke in, flashing him a small smile as she reached out and found his hand, squeezing it gently.  "I'm just glad to have my watcher back on speaking terms with me - although why it took a bear attack is anyone's guess," she added, wrinkling her nose slightly and forcing her body not to react to the memory that would probably visit her dreams that night.

    "No, it is a... well, a big," Giles argued, stumbling over his words once more as he frowned down at their joined hands.  "I owe you an explanation - and an apology."

    "You, of all people, don't need to apologize," Buffy murmured, her brow tightening in confusion.  "After all, I was the one who spiked your drink - although I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you safe," she added, her chin jutting out stubbornly in a way that was classic Buffy.

    "And while that's a matter that I've resigned myself to never resolving nor agreeing with you upon," Giles cut in, a wry smile lifting his lips before settling back into a small frown, "that isn't to what I was referring."

    Now even more confused, Buffy quickly threw her mind back, desperately searching for something her watcher could have done to warrant such odd behavior.  Okay, so yeah, he didn't know how to kiss and make up, but she hadn't exactly been all warm, fuzzy, let's shake hands either.  And so he could be kind of grumpy and did refuse to allow her to patrol on her own, but that was hardly apologizing material - which left the petite slayer quite baffled.  "This isn't about the crucia-whatever test thing, is it?" she asked, seizing a hold of the only truly bad thing her watcher ever did.  "Because if so, Giles, let it go!" she continued, squeezing his hand once more as she chuckled softly.  "That was over a year ago, and I told you even then that you were forgiven.  You don't have to-"

    "Buffy, there's something I need to tell you," Giles interrupted, his voice soft as he scooted even closer to his slayer, his eyes begging her for the silence to allow him to continue.  "That night in Sunnydale when you were able to break free of Lyle's control," he began, watching as she flinched at his words, her face paling as, for the first time, he was evidently forcing her if not to talk about the experience, at least listen to something about a time that she wanted nothing more than to forget.  "Lyle told me something that you deserve to-"

    "Giles, whatever it is, I don't want to know," Buffy quickly cut in, feeling her body begin to tremble as she tried to pull away, hating how the tears came to her eyes at the mere mention of the monster's name.  "It's over, it's done with, and I-"

    "The drug that they used on you while you were in the Centre was the cruciamentum drug."  There, he said it - he said the thing that had been driving him to avoid his slayer for so long.  His betrayal of her hadn't been as small as either of them had at first thought, for his first ever betrayal of his slayer led to this hell that she had endured.

    "What?" Buffy murmured, her thoughts silenced by his words as she tried to grasp what he was telling her.

    "Buffy, Lyle told me that after we met Jarod that first time, he had kept all of us under surveillance-"

    "We’ve been watching you, Elizabeth Ann Summers," Lyle murmured, his voice low and seductive as he took a few steps back, his annoying grin replaced by a thoughtful expression that was somehow even more chilling.  "And I’ve done my research... I had a team sent down to keep an eye out, and in no time my men began giving reports of monsters that had fangs and drank people's blood.  I saw surveillance tapes of demons that viciously attacked this small California town... and of the small girl that somehow managed to fight them all..."

    "He - he said that they were trying to learn everything they could about me," she murmured, her voice soft as she recalled his first taunting words to her.

    Smiling grimly, Giles gently squeezed her hand before continuing.  "Apparently the Centre overheard you and Willow talking about the cruciamentum.  They later broke into my apartment and stole the remainder of the drug from me - I never even realized that it had been taken until Lyle told me about it that night," he admitted, his eyes pleading with her to understand.  "They broke apart the drug's compound and then synthesized it - made it more potent as your body began to become adapted to it," he murmured, his voice faltering as Buffy's eyes turned away from his and seemed to look at nothing at all.  "I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice cracking as his head dipped down.

    "For what?"

    Confused, Giles slowly lifted his face and found Buffy's puzzled eyes meeting his own.  "F-for the drug," he stammered, unable to understand why she wasn't immediately seeing his guilt.  "If I hadn't first betrayed you for the Council, they never would have been able to get their hands on the drug.  They wouldn't have been able to take you and maybe-"

    "Giles," she began, breaking into his tirade with a small smile.  "None of this is your fault anymore it is mine and Willow's for being overheard in the first place," she stated simply, her voice holding no sign of the accusation that he had been expecting.  Instead, all that he heard in her voice was acceptance - acceptance of a twist of fate that none of them could have foreseen nor prevented. 

    What had come, had come, and there was nothing that any of them could do to take it all back, no matter how much any of them wanted to.  And in that moment Giles realized something that he should have realized long ago - that he had understood at one point, but had forgotten when Fate had chosen to take his slayer away from him in a manner that he had never prepared himself for.  He had forgotten that this was her Destiny.  Some part of Giles had always known the end that his Slayer would eventually find - the end that all slayers eventually found.  He had been trained for that moment - the time when she wouldn't return from patrol or when an apocalypse stole her life.  But in the moment when a few cruel people took her away from him without a trace, Giles had forgotten about her Destiny.  And in the moment when she was returned to him, brutalized and a shell of her former self, he had vowed to never let her go again.  Yet with Buffy's small smile, Giles realized how impossible that task was.  For Buffy was the Slayer.  The Chosen One.  She had been chosen by Fate, Destiny, the Powers That Be or whoever did the pickings.  She had been Chosen as the one girl who would stand between this world and darkness and conquer it until it conquered her and another was called to take her place.  It was her duty, and as Buffy smiled at him, he realized that this was not the same girl that had argued against Destiny three long years ago.

    "Giles, I'm fifteen years old.  I don't wanna die!"

    Instead, Buffy had grown and matured far beyond her years - perhaps even beyond his years.  She now understood her destiny and more importantly, she accepted it.  Buffy would fight for this world that she lived in until she breathed her last breath, and then she would die knowing that she had done her best.  Buffy would die, sooner rather than later, and she knew this.  And she accepted it.  And if Buffy could accept her fate, then the least that Giles could do was honor his brave slayer by doing the same.

    "I understand," he murmured, and by the way that his expression softened as the lines around his eyes crinkled, he knew that his slayer understood the undertones beneath that small word.  Indeed, he did understand now, for perhaps the first time in quite a long time.  He understood her duty, and now he understood his as well.  "Just remember that I will always be at your side for this," he added, even as his heart ached at the knowledge of what eventually would come.

    "I know that you'll be there for me as much as you can," Buffy amended, squeezing his hand gently.  "But sometimes... sometimes you won't be able to.  You just have to remember that you trained me well and that I know what I have to do."

    "As do I," he returned.  Eventually, I will have to let you go.  Sighing, Giles shared a bittersweet smile with his young slayer before pulling her close in a hug that would have been painful for anyone else.  The move was completely uncharacteristic for him, but he found that he didn't care.  Sometimes, you just had to push all of the dressings to the side.  After all, one never knows when such simple pleasures would be taken away forevermore.

To be continued...