Alternity's Lieder
By Blair Provence

TITLE: Alternity's Lieder  (4/?)
AUTHOR:  Blair Provence
E-MAIL ADDRESS:  aggiemo@msn.com
SPOILER WARNING:  To third season, I suppose, up to the finale. An alternate future.  This story is a sequel to my fic "Alternity", available at the New Buffy/Giles Relationshippers and A Watcher's Love.
RATING:  NC-17 - (Buffy/Giles)
ARCHIVE:  The above two sites.  If anyone else wants it, let me know.
DISCLAIMER:  Everything Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Warner Brothers.  He'd never let Buffy and Giles have *this* much fun, so I feel obligated to do so.
SUMMARY:  Buffy and Giles return home to try and rescue Willow, despite the danger posed by the Watcher Council's Tarakan Assassins and the return of Angel to their lives.  Sequel to "Alternity".  Beware of Angst.


FEEDBACK IS WELCOME AND APPRECIATED!

Alternity's Lieder (4/?)


     Even in southern California, a trip to the beach in December is a chilly proposition.  The wind whipping over the water bit into the thin cotton of their shirts, but Buffy didn't seem to notice.  She stood on the shoreline, hands in the back pockets of her jeans, staring out over the water.  Giles sat on the hood of the car a hundred feet behind her, studying the way the afternoon sun made her hair glow.
    
     After a few minutes of peaceful contemplation, Buffy turned around and trudged back toward the car, her bootprints marring the smooth perfection of the beach.  She hopped up on the hood and sat next to Giles.  "Isn't it beautiful?" she murmured, returning her gaze to the water.

     "Yes," Giles replied, but he was still looking at her.  "Are you all right, Buffy?"

     She nodded slightly, her eyes faraway.  "I used to come here a lot," she told him dreamily.  "When I lived in L.A.  When Mom and Dad were fighting all the time and I couldn't stand to listen to it anymore.  There's a bus line that ends about three miles from here, and sometimes after school I would ditch cheerleading and ride out here."  She glanced over at him.  "It's not a popular beach - it's too far out of the way, and the surfing usually sucks.  So there was never anyone here, especially in the winter."

     "Sounds lonely," Giles commented, studying her face.  To his attentive ears the echo of pain in her voice from her parents separation was very clear.

     She raised her cheeks to the sun and closed her eyes.  "It was, sometimes.  But I think that's what I came here for, the aloneness - and that's why I never brought anyone with me.  Not that any of my friends would have understood it."  A small smile curled the corner of her mouth.  "And they wouldn't have been caught dead riding the bus."  The smile faded.  "I guess I sometimes felt like none of them really knew me very well.  But here on this beach, I didn't have to be Buffy Summers, cheerleader, or Buffy Summers, fashion queen, or Buffy Summers, trophy girlfriend...I could just be Buffy Summers, *me*."

     "Everyone needs places like that," he agreed quietly, reaching over to take her hand.

     She nodded and bowed her head, staring down at their intertwined fingers.  "After I found out I was the Slayer, I didn't come here anymore."  She shrugged.  "I didn't have a lot of time, for one thing.  And I guess I didn't feel like I needed it any longer - because Slaying made me special, gave me something to feel proud about.  Until the end, after I burned down the gym, when I started feeling like being Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, wasn't any better than being Buffy Summers, prom queen."  She shrugged again.  "And then Mom and Dad got divorced and we moved away."  She raised her head to look out across the water.  "I can't even remember the last time I came here."

     He drew his arm up around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Why did you want to come here today?" he murmured, keeping his tone light so she wouldn't feel pressured in any way.

     She bit her lip.  "I...I wanted to share it with you."  She glanced at him.  "But I'm not really sure why."

     Giles raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers softly.  "Whatever the reason...thank you, Buffy."

     Buffy leaned over and kissed his cheek.  "No, thank you." She nuzzled his ear, inhaling the sweet male scent of him.  "You know me better than anyone in the world, you know that?  Better than my Mom, better than Will..."  She laid her head on his shoulder.  "You know *me*.  I think you're the only one who really does."

     He smoothed her hair with his palm.  "You must know that the reverse is also true, Buffy.  I've never-...no one has ever..." He paused, trying to find the words, but she rescued him from his fumbling.

     "I understand, Giles."  She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled closer.  They sat that way for almost half an hour, watching the waves play on the beach as clouds chased one another across the sky.

     It was Giles who finally broke the silence.  "You're nervous about seeing Angel later, aren't you?"  His tone was quiet, undemanding, and filled with understanding.

     She pulled away from him, as though to protest his conclusion, but then paused and reluctantly nodded.  "I am.  I don't know what I'll say to him."

     "You should say whatever you feel, Buffy."

     She closed her eyes.  "I don't want to hurt him.  But I-...I think I know how he'll react to seeing me again, Giles, and I really don't want to deal with it.  I made so many promises to him...and I don't know that I've kept even one of them."

     Giles was almost afraid to ask her to elaborate - he'd always avoided internalizing her more passionate declarations about the vampire.  Had she promised to love Angel forever?  "I don't think Angel expects anything from you, Buffy.  He left so you would get on with your life."

     Buffy bit her lip, wondering - a bit late - if it had been a good idea to get into this at all.  "Look, I know that's what he said, and I know a part of him really meant it...but a part of him expected me to never get over him."  She shot Giles an uneasy glance, but went on anyway, "Just like a part of me expected him to never get over me."

     "I'm sure he hasn't," Giles murmured, eyeing her.  "In fact, I'm quite positive that is an entirely impossible proposition."

     She smiled miserably at his compliment, uncomfortably aware that her relationship with her undead ex was one of Giles' least favorite subjects.  "But that's not all, Giles."  She took a deep breath and braced herself.  "I'm not...not sure how I'll feel when I see him, either."  She glanced at him quickly out of the corner of her eye, clearly nervous about his reaction to her words.

     Giles experienced a pang of something he refused to examine closely, and instead chose to concentrate on reassuring Buffy. "Buffy...it's all right, sweetheart.  Feel how you feel, that's all you can do.  It won't change what I feel for you.  And it won't hurt me."  She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and he managed a smile.  "I promise you, love."

     "I love you, Giles," she told him, swallowing thickly.  "And I-...I don't think I love him anymore.  I really don't."

     He couldn't hold her gaze and glanced away toward the water. "It's not important."

     "It *is*," she insisted.  "I don't *want* to love him, Giles.  Loving Angel *hurts* - it always *did*.  I mean, think about it, Giles - how much of the time was I actually happy when I was with Angel?"

     Giles didn't really want to examine the past that closely, painfully aware that Angel had been her paramount obsession for over two years.  "I don't know."

     Buffy snorted, a sound so unexpected that he almost smiled. "Nice attempt at nice, Giles, but you and I both know that it was months of disaster versus days of fun.  It's like I didn't think it was real unless it hurt, you know?  And I know that when I was loving him, I didn't consider anyone else's feelings.  That wasn't healthy, and it wasn't nice."  She reached for his hand and squeezed it regretfully.  "Especially with regard to *you*. And even with all the crap I put you through, and even though you had the right, you never tried to make me choose between you."

     "Maybe I was afraid to," he murmured, then found he wished he could take the words back as soon as he'd uttered them.

     Buffy ducked her head guiltily.  Had she really made him feel so unimportant as all that?  How could she have been so insensitive?  "I deserved that, I guess," she replied softly.

     His tone was chagrined.  "No, you didn't."

     She reached for his hand.  "It doesn't matter, anyway. There isn't a choice to make now, don't you see?  I'm with you now.  I want to be with *you*."

     Giles disengaged his fingers from hers.  "You're right, Buffy," he agreed, keeping his tone even, "you don't have to make a choice.  In fact, it isn't really necessary for you to tell him anything about us at all."

     "I don't want to hide how I feel about you," she retorted indignantly, grabbing his hand again.

     He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "Buffy, the next few days are going to be very difficult for all of us, that's a given.  So whatever you need to make it easier for you to do what you have to do, I support one hundred percent.  That's really all that matters to me."

     "I know it is," she told him.  "But in order to get through it, I'm going to need you, and I don't want to keep us a secret. Giles, this might be the last few days we ever have on earth, okay?  Let's not let the past - the past that's *gone* - mess up what we have now."

     "I appreciate what you're trying to say, but you...you loved him, Buffy," Giles said, pausing slightly over the choice of verb tense.  Buffy caught his hesitation and grimaced.  "You loved him very much.  You offered to sacrifice yourself for him - I don't know that I've ever known a more noble act."  Or a more horrifying one, he didn't add.

     Her smile was pained.  "Are you sure you don't mean a more *melodramatic* act?"

     "Don't belittle your feelings," he replied, squelching his own odd, sudden urge to smile at her self-deprecating statement.

     "They're mine, Giles," she pointed out.  "I can belittle them however I want.  And you know, if these past few months have taught me anything, it's that life is a *precious* thing, and I should be a lot less cavalier about throwing mine around like that."  It was as close as she could come to admitting she might have made a mistake during the Ascension, but it was enough for Giles.

     He offered her a significant glare of wholehearted agreement, then decided it was time to abandon weighty emotional topics in favor of something less painful.  "'Cavalier'?" he mocked lightly.

     "You've been so good for my vocab, Giles," she replied, grinning at him, clearly equally willing to leave the tough subjects behind.  "My own walking thesaurus."

     "Thank you very much," he sniffed, stifling a smile.

     She tilted her head to the side and studied him for a moment.  "So, are we done with the excruciatingly painful soul- searching for a little while?"

     He closed his eyes briefly and sighed.  "God, I hope so."

     "Good," she said, bending down to unlace her left boot. "Because we're on a beach, and we're in violation of
international beach rules."  She kicked one boot away and began to attack the laces of the other.

     He raised an eyebrow.  "Those being?"

     "Number one - the 'no shoe' rule," she replied, stripping off her socks and hopping to the ground.  "Number two - the 'no jeans' rule," she continued, unbuttoning her jeans, sliding them off, then kicking them away.  She stood before him clad only in her long-sleeved baseball t-shirt and pink panties.  "And number three - the 'you must go into the ocean' rule."  She flashed a grin at him before turning to race toward the water, slim legs flashing in the afternoon sun.

     "The water's *freezing*, Buffy!" he called after her, but she just waved him off, plunging into the surf, arms upraised. She waded out until the water was waist-deep, twirling in unending circles as the waves swirled around her.  Her hair gleamed golden in the afternoon light.

     Giles swallowed past the lump in his throat and attempted to memorize the picture she made - a grinning, dancing water nymph shining in the sun.  The chill that had enveloped his heart as they had spoken of Angel began to thaw a little as he realized that nothing could alter the memories of the months they'd spent together, not even the re-entry of Angel into their lives.  And a small, secret, selfish part of him smiled in satisfaction at the knowledge that he and Buffy had shared something that she and Angel never could.  He allowed his gaze to roam her slim figure, admiring the way her curves were outlined in stark relief by the dripping, clinging cotton of her shirt.

     Smiling, he kicked off his boots and shucked his jeans, looking up in time to be on the receiving end of one of Buffy's thousand-watt grins.  He jumped off of the hood, clad only in boxers and t-shirt, and quickly crossed the sand toward the water.  The grains were cool and gritty between his toes, and the spray kicked up by the wind was cold enough to sting, but he was determined to ignore any discomfort.  Buffy wanted to play, and he wanted to join her.

     The icy shock of the water stole his breath for a few moments, but he persevered until he was standing next to her, facing seaward, arms upraised, eyes shaded against the bright ferocity of the winter sun.

     "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Buffy called, raising her voice to be heard over the surf.

     "*You're* beautiful!" Giles shouted back, suddenly incapable of repressing a mile-wide grin.  She looked so incredibly *alive* standing there.

     Buffy turned to face him, her eyelashes dripping sparkling water down the blooming color of her cheeks.  Her wet hair was plastered against her head like a golden skullcap, and her white teeth gleamed brilliantly as she grinned back at him in sheer, unadulterated joy.  "I love you!" she yelled, wading toward him. She reached up to wind her arms around his neck.  "I love you!" he captured his lips with hers - cool and salty - and molded her body to his, bouncing upward in the water to wrap her legs around his waist.  Her warmth was furnace-hot compared to the icy water, and he gave himself over to the kiss, drinking her in like hot chocolate.

     She thrust her pelvis against him, using the buoyancy of the water as a springboard in time with the sweeping of her tongue. He felt consumed, devoured, as though she was branding him, claiming the last infinitesimal bit of his soul that was still his alone.  He gave it over freely, driven by the desperation of their last few days together to marry their spirits and hearts in time with their bodies.  She was vibrant and alive in his arms, but even as he devoured her heat he could not banish the ever- present fear of losing her that had haunted him for months.     

     He slipped his hands underneath her shirt to stroke her smooth skin, imprinting her with the stamp of his fingertips, pressing hard enough to bruise were she someone other than the Slayer.  She moaned low in her throat and squeezed him more tightly, scissoring her thighs to tighten around his waist.  Her kisses became hotter, more urgent, burning against his lips.

     "Buffy!" he gasped, pulling away for a moment, his mind whirling dizzily.

     "What?" she murmured as her mouth travelled over his cheek to bite his earlobe.  She sucked it inside her mouth, then traced his ear with her tongue.

     "My-*ah*...*t-toes* are frozen," he replied nonsensically, awash in a sea of pure sensation.  He nipped at her neck, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin.

     She chuckled into his ear, her voice low and sexy.  "So? What do you need your toes for?" she asked, giving his ear another nibble.

     "Nothing," he replied.  "But *other* things are getting rather cold as well...things that *you* might feel a *need* for sometime soon..."

     She pulled back to stare at him, and he grinned at her, eyes sparkling.  Comprehension dawned and she started to laugh. "Well, come on then," she exclaimed, unwrapping her legs and splashing backward.  She tugged on his hand, towing him toward the shore.

     They stumbled from the surf onto the beach, both giggling uncontrollably.  Buffy, grinning impishly, struck out suddenly with one foot in an attempt to catch Giles off guard and send him crashing to the ground.  He dodged, lightning quick, and tried to return the favor, but she danced out of reach, whirling and laughing.  "Come and get me," she taunted, smoothing the wet t- shirt against her body provocatively.

     "I'm *trying*," he replied feelingly, which only made Buffy laugh harder.

     "Like what you see, do you?" she asked, raising the hem of her shirt slightly, giving him a glimpse of the tantalizing white skin of her belly.  "All ya gotta do is catch me, WatcherMan."
    
     He feinted, then dove, nearly capturing her arm, mainly because she wasn't trying very hard to get away.  Skipping sideways, she picked up a handful of wet sand and lobbed it toward him, hitting him smack in the middle of the chest.  "Oh, you'll regret that," he vowed, scooping up his own handful.

     "Ooh, mud-wrestling fantasy," she replied, throwing another ball of mud.

     "I'm thinking that perhaps we stayed in too many hotels with x-rated television," he quipped, his own missile striking her leg a glancing blow.

     "If this were one of *those* movies, I'd be naked and you'd be a six-foot tall blonde woman with enormous boobs," she informed him breathlessly as she dodged another lob and ducked under his arm.

     He paused mid-turn, frowning.  "I think I saw that one," he muttered thoughtfully, pretending to search his memory.

     She choked on a laugh and shoved him from behind.  As he fell he reached back and grabbed her hand, and they went down on the sand in a tangle of arms and legs.  Giles rolled over and pinned her underneath him.  "Gotcha," he told her.

     "Still cold?" she asked, smiling up at him, looking adorably disheveled.

     "Getting warmer," he replied, then leaned down to kiss her - deeply, languidly, allowing his lips to map the contours of hers.

     They broke apart breathlessly a few long minutes later. "Giles?" Buffy murmured while her right hand delved beneath the waistband of his sopping boxers.

     "Yes?" he replied, his voice rising an octave as her cold fingers found their target and gave an experimental squeeze.

     "I'm glad you're not a six-foot tall blonde woman with enormous boobs," she told him.  She released him after a brief caress and began to tug on his shirt.

     He burst into laughter as he rolled off of her into the sand and yanked his shirt over his shoulders.  He tossed it away, then reached for the hem of her top.  "Buffy?" he murmured as he pulled the material upward over her head.

     "Hmmm?"  She licked her lips and went to work on his boxers.

     "I'm glad, too."  She giggled into his mouth as his lips reclaimed hers.  A few moments later their remaining clothing lay piled in the sand beside them, and they were lost in one another once again.

     The wet gritty sand at her back presented a bizarrely sensual contrast to the warmth of his skin, and as they moved against one another, she could feel their bodies digging a hollow underneath her.  She ran her hands up and down his back, relishing the feel of taut muscle.  Giles didn't have the shape of a bodybuilder - his strength came from their daily workouts and long years of fighting experience, newly tempered with the tinge of deprivation.  Any excess fat that had ever graced his frame had burned away in the past six months, leaving a long, lean, rangy form, battle-scarred but unbowed.  He was perfection in her eyes, seen through the lens of love, and to her pleased surprise she had discovered a deep hunger for his body that stole upon her at the oddest times.

     They fit together as though made for one another, her petite frame hiding a strength that overmatched his own and made them equals in an intimate embrace.  Their movements were instinctive, their caresses proceeding without need of guiding words.  He knew just where to touch her to drive her absolutely crazy, and she possessed an innate seductiveness that excited him as no one ever had.

     Buffy bent her knees, pulling her thighs up to increase her leverage, then locked her ankles behind his back.  "Now," she demanded impatiently, unwilling to delay any longer.  She could feel his straining erection against her belly.  He was toying with her, holding himself away even in the face of her iron grip.

     "Say please," he gasped, nipping at her right breast.  Sweat beaded on his forehead.  The chill of the winter afternoon could not penetrate their mutual heat.

     She choked on a laugh, her fingernails biting into the skin of his back.  "*Now*, you sonofa- Oh, *God*!"  Her voice rose to a scream as he plunged deep within her.  She clung tightly to him, matching her thrusts to his, fast and furious.  Blood pounded between them, the beating of their hearts and bodies utterly in sync.  He filled her almost to overflowing, penetrating deeper than he ever had before, branding her with his body as she had branded his.  She gave herself over to him completely, trying to reassure him with her actions as she hadn't been able to do with words.  "Love you, love you, love you," she chanted in time with each thrust, squeezing her inner muscles around him, knowing it would drive him absolutely wild.

     They came together, simultaneously, their twin shouts ringing across the deserted beach.  Buffy felt his warm seed fill her, an amazing sensation she'd only recently begun to experience sans a barrier of intervening latex.  She felt deliciously complete, utterly one with him, as though she'd taken a piece of his soul inside her womb. 

     Giles collapsed on top of her, spent and panting.  "Lord, you feel good," he gasped.

     "Well, you feel heavy," she replied, but when he made to climb off of her, she tightened her grip on his shoulders and twined her legs around his, ensuring that he wouldn't slip from her body.  Together they rolled to the side until she was laying on top of his chest, her naked back caked with gritty grains of sand.  The seawater and heat between them had combined with the sand to form a thin sticky glue of sex and sweat, bonding their skins along with their bodies.

     "We're going to have sand in some *very* awkward places," Giles observed as they settled into a comfortable embrace. 

     She giggled agreement.  "You know, that's the part they never mentioned in all those movies that neither of us ever watched."

     "Hmph."  They were quiet for a moment.  "Do you remember the one with the green alien women?" Giles wondered eventually.

     "The six-foot amazon huge-boobed alien women?" Buffy asked. He nodded.  "Nope, sorry, don't recall that one at all.  But I *do* remember the one with the Texas cowboy with the *really* bit six-shooter - you know, the guy who wore his spurs even when he-"

     "I remember," Giles countered, cutting her off.  "I'm going to have to watch four hundred consecutive hours of opera to cleanse my brain of those images."

     Buffy yawned.  "Count me out."  They drifted off into a mutual doze, enjoying the lazy afternoon somnolence.  Buffy idly wondered whether or not the sun was strong enough to give her bare backside a very awkward sunburn, but she was so comfortable against his chest that she decided not to worry about it.  She lay in Giles' arms and simply relished their time together.

     "What are you thinking?" she asked eventually as she traced idle circles across his right bicep.

     "I'm thinking that it would be damn silly for a man my age to get arrested for indecent exposure on a public beach..." Giles chuckled, the rumbling of his laughter sending fizzing vibrations through her spent body. 

     She kissed his chest.  "It was worth it."

     "Seconded," he agreed, smoothing her damp, sand-dusted hair. "And what are *you* thinking?"

     She was silent for a moment, remembering the final moments of their lovemaking.  "I'm thinking that we haven't been very careful," she finally said.  Her voice was very quiet.

     Giles tensed and glanced up and down the beach, but the sand was still deserted, gleaming white in the afternoon sun.  "The Tarakans don't know where we are," he reassured her.  "Don't worry."

     She bit her lip, turning her head to lay her cheek on his chest, hiding her expression from his view.  "I'm not talking about the Tarakans.  I meant...well, ever since I told you about Willow, we haven't been *careful*."

     It took Giles a moment to understand why she placed special emphasis on the final word, but then he sucked in a sharp breath of comprehension.  "Oh," he said, shocked at himself.  He had been insistent since the very beginning of their sexual relationship that they be vigilant in the use of birth control - adding a baby to the living nightmare that was their lives would have been the cruelest kind of child abuse, and he had known how hard it would be for Buffy to terminate a pregnancy.  So they had been careful, even when desire had driven them to the brink of madness.  But Buffy was correct - neither of them had given protection a thought since her revelation about Willow's abduction.

     "Giles?" Buffy ventured hesitantly.

     "It's all right, Buffy," he told her, for lack of anything better to say.

     She bit her lip miserably.  "I guess even our subconscious minds believe we're gonna die, huh?  They're not real worried about us being around in nine months."

     "I...don't know."  He hugged her tightly.  "Maybe it's just that...we're clinging to every bit of life we can, while we can." He kissed the top of her head.  "But that isn't to say I'm giving up, Buffy.  I'm well aware of how dangerous this is, but I'm conceding nothing.  I will do whatever I have to do to get you through this alive."  His voice was fierce.

     She scooted upward and buried her face in his neck.  "Me, too, Giles," she murmured as she settled against him.  "I'll do whatever I have to do to make sure you're okay, too.  But I-" she paused, took a deep breath, and plunged onward, well aware of how much he would hate hearing her next few words, "...I don't want to survive this if you don't."

     "Don't say that!" he snapped angrily, incensed by her matter-of-fact martyred tone.  He knew that Buffy was far more likely to live through the coming battle than he was, being both a Slayer and considerably younger.  The thought that she might just throw her life away after the fact was galling.  Could she make a split-second decision to allow her own death during a moment of emotional devastation?  Yes, she was very capable of it - she'd already lost too much in her young life.  But it was something Giles could not allow - he simply had to find a way to prevent her from giving up like that.

     And suddenly an idea came to him - a vastly unfair idea, but he couldn't permit himself to care.  "If you are pregnant," he began slowly, choosing his words with care, "if you are carrying my child, then you would need to keep on living, wouldn't you? For *our* child's sake."  He left unspoken the assumption that she would decide to give birth to the child - they both knew she would never choose to abort his baby should he die in the next few days.  His words tasted bitter in his mouth, because he knew he was condemning her to the life of loneliness that was her greatest fear...but she had to live.  She *had* to.

     Buffy froze in his arms.  "That's blackmail," she retorted icily, her fingernails digging into his skin.

     "Perhaps," Giles replied calmly.  "It's true, nevertheless, isn't it?"  <Please, forgive me, Buffy...>  He knew that once she'd survived long enough to discover whether or not she were carrying his child, she wouldn't find it nearly so easy to end her life.  She would live...

     Buffy shoved away from his embrace and rolled off onto the sand.  "I can't believe you," she muttered under her breath as she snatched up her scattered clothes.  "I can't believe you'd ask me that."

     "I'd do anything to keep you alive," he told her quietly, gaining his feet.  Dried sand cascaded down his body to the ground.

     She refused to meet his gaze, turning to stalk back toward the car.  "And you, Giles?" she returned bitterly over her shoulder.  "If I die, and you live, will *you* go on to greater glory and happiness?"  Her angry tone said she already knew his answer, no matter what lies he might tell her.

     <No,> his heart automatically replied, but he managed to stay his tongue.  "I'd have to, wouldn't I?" he said instead, not really answering her question.

     She snorted, and he knew she'd seen through his ruse. "Hypocrite!" she muttered.  "You're a hypocrite, Giles - using a phantom child to blackmail me into a life without you."  Suddenly she whirled on him in all her glorious naked fury.  "*Fine*, then," she spat, her eyes shooting sparks, "I'll make that promise if you will, Giles.  I'll swear to live without you, if you'll swear live without me."  She raised her chin challengingly, daring him to refuse her.  His word would bind him, she knew, as surely as their possible child bound her.

     He licked his lips nervously, but there was really only one reply he could make - and he knew it.  It was the price he would have to pay to bargain for her survival.  "Agreed."  The word tasted of ashes in his mouth.

     "Fine!"  She turned her back on him resumed her angry stalk toward the car, still muttering under her breath.  "Stupid, selfish sonofa...And now I have to see *Angel* as if this whole damn thing wasn't bad *enough*..."  Her voice faded away to only a few recognizable curse words, and Giles grimaced regretfully.

     It was going to be a long few days.

NEXT