Title: Darkness Bound
Author: Monique
Email: valjean131@aol.com
Rating: 15
Summary: Giles makes a deal to save Buffy's life, but is the price too high?
Disclaimer: Buffy: the Vampire Slayer and its characters and content belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, and 20th Century Fox Television (did I leave anyone out?).


Giles fell to his knees before them. He was a beaten man, with nothing left.

The demon Daedalous held Buffy's unconscious body by the throat, shaking her like a rag doll.

"Please," begged Giles, "You can't…"

"Oh, but I can," Daedalous growled. He stood on a high platform, his bulking figure almost blocking out the swirling light of the vortex behind him. He held Buffy out at arm's length and slowly, painfully resumed choking her.

"I'll do anything," Giles said desperately. He had to save her. She was Buffy. She was the Slayer. He needed her. The world needed her. He could not let her die.

"Anything?"

"Yes," Giles said, for the first time sensing perhaps there was some hope. "Yes. Anything. If you will spare her." His breath came in ragged gasps. He prayed to all the Gods, that it wasn't too late.

Daedalous cocked his beastly head to the side in a gesture of interest. "Hmmm."

"Please? You can have my soul! Just release her."

"That is not enough."

"What more can I give?" Giles asked, blinking back the tears that stung his eyes. He felt his last shred of hope fading.

"You have… something." Daedalous responded cryptically. "Will you give it, to save this girl?" To emphasize his point, he put his other hand around Buffy's throat, she started to turn a sickly gray.

"Yes! Yes! Anything!" Giles could barely stand to watch the scene before him . Every fiber in his being crying out.

"Agreed."

Suddenly and without ceremony, Buffy was at Giles feet. He pulled her to him, quickly checking for a pulse. She was alive. His heart soared. She was alive.

He held her body close to his, thinking only of her. Only of her survival. He closed his eyes, thanking the Gods for giving him this gift. He hadn't failed her this time.

Giles gently set her body down, knowing that he would now have to pay the price for her life. He wasn't afraid. He would gladly give his life for her. He stood, knowing this was a destiny fulfilled.

"I'm ready."

"Are you?"

He stood as tall and straight as his beaten body would allow. He would meet his fate with dignity. "Yes, I -," the words caught in his throat. "Willow?"

Willow stood at the demon's side, his large hand snaked through her hair. Her eyes were wide with fear and confusion. "Giles?"

"W-w-what's this?" Giles stammered. "Let her go!"

"She belongs to me now," Daedalous said with a wicked leer. "And I have you to thank." He stroked her cheek.

"NO!"

"She is the price."

"Giles? What's happening?" Willow squeaked. She pleaded with him, believing he could save her, trusting him.

Giles felt dizzy. This was not happening. He hadn't agreed to this. He'd never… "Take me!"

"You said anything," Daedalous replied simply.

"Please. Not her," Giles whispered, his voice cracking. He couldn't look at Willow. He couldn't bare to see her face and the look of betrayal that he was sure he would find there.

"Why?"

"Please!" He couldn't breath.

"She's special to you."

"Oh, God." He started to sob. "Yes."

"So innocent. So pure."

"Yes." Giles covered his face with his hands, trying vainly to push this nightmare away.

"You have your slayer. I have your… anything."

"Please-" His last call for mercy was drowned out by an incredible roaring sound as the vortex behind Daedalous grew. Giles looked at Willow, one last time.

She was so sad. Afraid and alone. So small. So fragile.

"Giles?" Willow cried as she and the demon disappeared into the vortex.

As the vortex closed behind them, a wave of energy exploded outward, knocking Giles out. The last image in his mind as he drifted into the blackness, was Willow crying out for him in pain and fear.

It would never leave him. For the rest of his life, it would never leave him.

Part Two

"Unghh," Buffy grunted as she dropped Giles onto the sofa in his apartment. She rubbed her throat, red marks blossoming.

She shook the Watcher. "Come on. Giles. Come on. Wakey-wakey."

He groaned. She sighed in relief. "Phew."

She stood and stretched out the muscles of her back. "You know, you might consider Weight Watchers for Watchers or something. You're getting a little heavy for me to be carrying all over town."

He groaned again. "Willow?"

"Close. Think blond, stylish, slayerish."

He tried to blink away the gauze that covered his brain. "Buffy?"

"That's the one."

He struggled to sit up, she reached out to help him.

"What happened?" he asked shakily, rubbing his hands across his face.

"I was hoping you could tell me. I woke up on the floor of this warehouse. Again. You know, I'm getting pretty tired of doing that. And you were out cold. Again. An incredible feat of slayer strength later.. Viola, we're here."

Giles closed his eyes. Everything was hazy. He couldn't seem to get the fog to clear. He shook his head and was rewarded with a sharp pain.

"Oh," he gasped. "Warehouse…?" An image flashed before him. It was coming back to him. The demon. Daedalous.

Giles rose unsteadily to his feet and began to pace, suddenly very agitated. Buffy slowly suffocating. Dying. And then… His eyes clamped shut. Willow!

"Uhnnn." He stumbled. A wave of nausea washing over him. Buffy ran to his side and grabbed his arm to help support his sagging weight.

"Giles? Maybe you should sit down?" she said, worry in her voice.

He turned to look at her and what she saw sent shivers down her spine. His eyes were black with despair, darker than she had ever seen. Anger and fear warring with equal strength, only to beaten back by a blank, empty stare.

"Giles! What is it?"

He didn't respond. It was as though he hadn't even heard her. He pulled out of her grasp and stumbled to a cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of Scotch, and like a man dying of thirst he gulped down the amber liquid. He would have finished the entire bottle if Buffy hadn't yanked it from his hands.

"Giles!"

He was panting for breath, the front of his shirt wet with spilled alcohol. He looked at the bottle, but had no strength, no desire. Nothing.

He gazed at her through heavy lids, his mouth a flat line.

"Giles, you are really scaring me," Buffy said. She reached out to him. He didn't pull away. He didn't welcome her touch. He didn't do anything.

Pushing down her own panic, Buffy maneuvered him back to the sofa. He fell listlessly into the cushions.

Buffy kneeled in front of him. She took his hands in hers, trying to reach him, to sooth him.

"Giles," she coaxed gently. "Look at me. Giles. Please look at me."

Slowly, obediently, the blank eyes met hers. It made her blood run cold. It was incredibly unnerving to see someone without any expression. Vacant eyes. He… he looks dead, she thought.

Taking a calming breath, she continued. "Good. Tell me what's wrong. What happened?"

His eyes appeared to focus a little. He seemed to actually notice her for the first time. When he spoke his voice was barely a whisper. "Willow," he breathed. "I killed her."

As if struck by a blow, Buffy backed away. "What?"

He closed his eyes again, escaping back to that dark place deep inside.

"What… Giles? … You.. you didn't. You couldn't." She shook her head. No, no, no.

Giles didn't move.

"This is some sick joke, right? She pleaded. Her chest was heaving, eyes darting from side to side. Tears catching in her throat. "Tell me this is a joke. Giles?"

He barely breathed.

"Giles!" she screamed and rushed forward pushing him hard against the back of the sofa. "Giles!"

His eyes looked through her. "I'm sorry," he said to some spot on the wall beyond.

"This has got to be some kind of mistake. I mean. You're wrong. Right?" She was desperate. Willow was not dead.

He shook his head. He couldn't say anything. To say it, made it real. Some part of him thought perversely, if he hadn't said it, it wasn't real. Don't say anything.

Giles' lack of response was driving Buffy insane. "What happened?" she growled, her voice threatening.

Then something in him changed. He looked right at her. Placid. Barren. "I killed her. What more is there to say?"

Buffy was shocked. "How can you… what the hell is going on? Giles, damnit! You had better tell me what's going on. Right God Damned Now!"

"You are the Slayer. I am the Watcher."

"What the fuck does that mean? Willow! What the fuck happened to Willow!?!"

"I killed her."

Buffy shook her head, unbelieving. "No," she said flatly. "No, you didn't." He must be delusional, she thought with relief. He's out of his mind. "You couldn't. I know you. Nothing could ever make you do that."

The briefest of emotions flashed across his face… Anger. Blame. Hatred. They came and went quickly. The emptiness returned.

"W-what?" Buffy gasped.

"You are the Slayer. I am the Watcher."

"Would you stop saying that!"

Buffy stalked across the room. She wasn't getting anywhere. She had to try something new. She hoped all the training might override whatever it was that keeping Giles away.

"Watcher!" she bellowed. He slowly turned and regarded her.

"Watcher, give your report," she demanded.

"Report?"

"Are you deaf? Report!"

He paused for a moment. A small part of his brain registered the request. He recited the events without emotion.

"The demon Daedalous had taken the Slayer. He stood before the Gateway, intent on killing her. I offered my life in exchange, but he refused. I offered anything for her safe return, as is my duty. A trade was agreed upon. The Slayer was spared. Will… Willow…" His voice faltered. A curious frown came over his face.

Buffy's heart rose to her throat. "Go on," she ordered.

He wavered, but continued. "Willow Rosenberg was… given."

Giles swallowed, his eyes squinted in concentration. Slowly reality was showing itself. He was emerging from the dark place, back to face the truth.

"Oh, God, " he rasped. He let out a few short quick breaths, tears bursting from his eyes. "Buffy," he pleaded. "Oh, dear God. He… he took her."

Buffy couldn't make any sense of this. She shook her head ignoring his pleas. What is he saying?

"He took h-" Giles started, but Buffy leapt at him like an animal. She grabbed his shirt and threw him to the ground.

"You traded Willow's life for mine!?!" She stood over him, glaring down.

"I… I…" He closed his eyes. He couldn't breath. He was suffocating. He shook his head, trying to deny that truth that stood before him. Buffy was alive, and Willow… "I… I didn't know. I…" He started to shake.

Giles saw Willow's face. Her beautiful face. Her eyes, so full of life. Her face.. an angel. And he had destroyed all of it. He had given that angel to the demon.

She trusted him. Even at the end, she trusted him. And he had failed her. No! Worse than that. He had betrayed her. He should have known that to love her was to condemn her. He didn't want to love her. He tried not to. But he couldn't stop himself and she was gone because of it. Now, his cursed love would destroy them all.

The man broke. The sobs racked his body, his despair claiming him completely. His heart lay in tatters somewhere in his chest.

"How…could you do it?" Buffy said with disgust.

He couldn't speak, the pain was too sharp.

She grabbed him fiercely by the shoulders. "Undo it!"

"I… it…," he whimpered. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry!" she shrieked. She wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp. This wasn't real. She felt the unstoppable anger building within her.

He sat limply, blubbering. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Buffy roared in rage. Unable to even look at him anymore, Buffy stormed out of the apartment. She needed to kill something. She would kill something. And kill. And kill. And kill.

Part 3


Minutes into hours. Hours into days. Days into hours. Hours into minutes.

Irrelevant.

Meaningless.

All that exists is nothing.


At some point he'd gotten off the floor. He didn't remember doing it. He didn't want to remember anything.

Giles sat back in the chair, his legs extended out in front of him. If you didn't look closely, didn't see his face, you might think he was resting peacefully. There was no peace.

His eyes were open, but didn't see.

The only sound was the beating of his heart, a cruel mockery of his life and love.

He didn't notice when the door flew open. He didn't see the man stride across the room. He didn't hear the curses hurled at him. He barely felt the blow.

A hard right to his chin sent him spiraling to the floor. He looked up at his attacker and nodded. Xander.

"Get up!" the younger man yelled. "I'm gonna give you one chance."

Giles regarded him with a strange sort of detached interest.

"And then," Xander continued, "I'm gonna kill you."

Xander reached forward and pulled Giles up by the shirt. And hit him again. Savagely. And again. Brutally.

Xander hit him until his knuckles started to bleed and his hands ached.

Giles took every blow, offering no resistance, gratefully accepting any punishment.

"I hate you!" Xander cried as he released his grip. Giles fell to the ground. Panting, Xander kneeled in front of him.

"Why her?" Xander rasped. His rage was ebbing and the pain and realization starting to sink in. "Why her?"

Giles finally looked at him. Xander's breath caught at the emotions reflected there. He couldn't believe what he saw. He knew the look, he'd seen it in her eyes.

"You loved her," Xander breathed. It was a truth, and it cut him like a knife.

Everything I knew about love, I've learned from looking in her eyes, Xander thought. The nuances - promises made and broken, possibilities and memories. She gave love so freely and so often, too often, without hope of having it returned. But she offered it just the same. It made him feel small sometimes. He knew he wasn't worthy of the things she gave him. She deserved so much more than he was even capable of. He could love her with everything that was in him, and it would never be enough.

Never was a very long time.

Xander gazed at the man sitting across from him.

Ashamed, Giles looked away again and pushed himself back to the sofa and the bottle.

This was all wrong. He loved Willow. She was his Willow. "You didn't even know her," Xander hissed.

Giles ignored him and gulped down the scotch. He didn't know her and he never would.

He remembered the first time he saw her. She was so young, so eager. Shy and brilliant - a flower waiting to bloom. She'd saved his life that night of the Harvest. Saved his life and lighted his soul. And now…

Xander fell into a chair, the fight gone from his body. The anger turned inward - regrets and apologies that would never be given. He looked again at Giles.

He was bleeding from his nose and his lip was split. He didn't seem to notice. Sitting forward, hands clasping a half full glass, elbows resting on knees, his back was hunched with the weight of a thousand sorrows.

Somehow, through his own anguish, Xander found pity for the Watcher.

"Bu…" Xander choked on the lump in his throat, and started again. "Buffy said that you…" he struggled, ".. that you killed Willow." He said it. He said the words and he didn't disappear. He was sure that he would just stop being. But he was still there and his words hung in the air.

Giles nodded.

"How?" His voice was barely whisper.

Giles looked at him, took a deep breath and another swig from his glass. He owed him this, at the very least.

"Buffy was dying. I'd done everything. Everything. He wouldn't take me." He closed his eyes tightly for a moment wishing for things that could never be. "I.. I said I would do anything. Give anything." He took another drink. "Then, Buffy's at my feet and…" He shuddered, his chin trembling… he had to say it… "Willow was calling my name." He looked at Xander, begging for absolution or was it condemnation.

"But why her?"

"She was…" the past tense of the statement struck him and he felt himself falling again. He wanted to climb back inside himself.

"… the best thing in your life," Xander finished knowingly. He understood, too well.

And now she was gone.

The men sat in silence, buried in the ashes of their love for her.

Neither moved.

Eventually Xander stood. Giles was only vaguely aware of him. The younger man took the bottle and poured himself a drink.

Kindred lost souls. Trying in vain to numb the pain, knowing it would only get worse.

The sun would rise again, but it wouldn't warm them. A cold winter had taken purchase in their hearts and there would be no spring.

Part 4

It had been nearly a week since that horrible night.

Buffy was still angry… at Giles, at fate, and at herself.

Xander was depressed, but busied himself with taking care of the others.

Giles was desolate. He'd only left his apartment once and it hadn't gone well.

Xander had convinced him to go to the library. Reluctantly, he agreed, but he wasn't ready. Everywhere he looked were painful memories. Everywhere, reminders of Willow.

They say you never know how much you'll miss someone until they're gone. Giles had always known he loved her, but now he began to realize how much he needed her. Every day he had relied on her for answers, for support and for comfort.

Every chair was a place for her. Each book had felt her touch. There was no part of his life she hadn't possessed.

Giles broke down again, as was his lot these days, and Xander guided him back to his apartment. In a perverse way, Xander was glad. He knew he would have probably gone insane if Giles hadn't needed him so much.

Buffy took out her anger on the local vampires, but word spread quickly and her patrols had become lonely walks among the dead. Reminders of things taken too soon.

It was late when Giles finally climbed the stairs to his bedroom. More habit of the years than anything else. He hadn't slept since that night.

He stood in the doorway and looked at his bed. Maybe he should just get rid of it. All it did was torture him. Beds were for sleeping and making love. He didn't sleep and there was no love to be made.

Some beds are for dying, he thought. A deathbed. Perhaps an angel of mercy would come and take him in the night.

He threw back the dregs from his glass. He drank constantly, although to no effect. Drunk or sober, alive or dead… what did it matter?

Still wearing the clothes from yesterday, (Xander had finally managed to get him to shower and change) Giles lay atop the covers.

He closed his eyes and waited for sleep… or death to claim him.

"Giles?"

He moaned.

"Giles? Can you hear me?"

The voice seemed so far away. It was like a wave breaking on some distant shore.

"Giles!" the voice called.

He rolled over, away from the sound, but the voice was insistent.

"Wake up! Giles! Wake up!"

With a sigh, he opened his eyes. "Yes, what is…" He sat bolt upright in the bed, before scrambling off the side in a panic. "W…Willow?"

She smiled at him, that beautiful smile.

"A-a-m I… d-dreaming? Are y-you a… dream?" he asked breathlessly.

She thought for a moment and shook her head. "No."

His pulse raced. She was a vision. Glowing white, radiating a beauty not of this earth. She wasn't a dream! His heart soared and then… crashed. A terrible thought occurred.

"Are you… a g-ghost?" She's come to haunt me, to torment me for my sins.

Her face squished up in consideration. "I don't think so."

"You… you're…" His mind tried to find answers, slogging through the alcohol. He silently cursed himself. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't understand. But what his mind could not grasp, his heart knew without thought. She was here. With him. Willow was here.

His lungs took in breath, his legs pushed him forward, his arms reached out to hold her. "Willow." He passed right through her. "Willow?"

She was incorporeal. He looked to her for answers, she smiled gently, as if to a child.

Then she regarded the man before her. Really saw him. He was a pathetic sight… clothes wrinkled, face unshaven, eyes sunken. The picture of despair. It broke her heart. "Oh, Giles."

It struck her with a fury, his pain, his need. She couldn't bear to look, but she did. Somehow, she always managed to do the things that couldn't be done. To find the strength beyond her own. The man in front of her needed all she could give.

"You look terrible," she said with a wan smile.

It took Giles a moment to realize she was talking about him. He was relishing her face, the sound of her voice - the words held no meaning - save for the mouth that uttered them.

"You look… so beautiful," he said with awe. "Like an angel."

She frowned. She'd never thought of herself as beautiful. Pretty, on a good day, but never beautiful.

She walked, or did she glide, to his mirror and gasped. She was beautiful, unspeakably so. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"W-w-what's wrong?" he asked, desperate to take away her grief.

She smiled sadly at first, and then with wonder. "This is how you see me." It was a statement. A revelation. She repeated it as a question. "This is how you see me?"

"Yes," he said with tears in his own eyes.

She gazed at him, trying to believe it was true. He… Giles, thought she was beautiful. "Thank you," she said softly.

He stared at her. This vision. And tried to understand. "If you're not… a spirit… then, what…?"

"What am I?" She cocked her head to the side, her eyes looking at something that wasn't there. She chose her words carefully. "I'm not sure. I think I'm some kind of… projection."

A very small part of Giles' brain pulled itself out of the muck and began to function. "Some… some sort of… astral projection?" He sat on the edge of his bed, trying frantically to think clearly.

"Yes." She bit her lower lip and a small frown creased her forehead. "I'm unconscious, I think…. Strange."

"W-what?"

"If I'd known I had to be unconscious to contact you, I probably could have been here a lot sooner," she smiled again, but it was laced with pain.

A barrage of cruel images assaulted him. What had she suffered? Had she fought the demon? Did he torture her? Had her body finally given in the abuse? Giles quashed the torrent of unanswered questions. He had to do something. Think! Damn it. Think!

"Where are you?" he asked, as more pieces of his mind awoke.

A dark shadow crossed her face. "I'm with him," she said in a small voice.

"Daedalous?" he whispered. She nodded. "You disappeared into the vortex…" he relived the night again in the agony of a second. All the joy at seeing her wiped away by a tidal wave of guilt. He looked away. He couldn't look at her, didn't deserve to see her.

She came closer, wanting so much to touch him. "It's alright," she said soothingly. "Don't be sad."

He choked down a bitter laugh. "Don't..."

"Giles… Rupert… look at me." He shook his head. "Please?"

He could deny her nothing. He slowly raised his head and looked into her eyes… and found forgiveness.

"NO!" he bellowed and stormed away. "NO!"

Willow was startled by the outburst and looked around in confusion. "What? What is it?"

Losing her had been painful enough, but to have her forgive him… that was more than he could bear.

"How can you… how can you forgive me for what I've done?"

Then she understood. "I'm not forgiving you." From one hell to another he slid. "Because there's nothing to forgive," she added.

"You don't understand!" he hissed. "You wouldn't… He never would have taken you if it weren't for me. Don't you see!" he yelled, his eyes like wildfire. "He only did this because I love you!"

She paused.

"Wow."

That wasn't exactly the reaction he'd expected. "You love me?"

In for a penny… "Yes." He met her gaze, no longer ashamed or afraid of his feelings. If this was all he could give her, then he would do it in no small measure. "I love you, Willow."

A myriad of emotions played upon her face. Shock, denial, trepidation, hope, joy and finally… a love released. "Oh, Rupert," she sighed.

"I should have told you, but I was a coward. I was afraid to admit… you're so young and I'm…" He shook his head sadly, accepting his fate. "I knew you could never have these feelings for…"

She knelt before him. "I have always loved you."

His eyes sought hers, searching for hints of pity, and found only his love reflected. He wanted so much to hold her, to kiss her. His heart ached with the need to feel her in his arms.

She smiled at him, that innocent, beguiling smile. "Life's funny, isn't it?" He chuckled and marveled at the sound.

Abruptly, she stood and pulled away, a frown darkening her face. "There isn't much time."

"What? What's happening?" he demanded.

"I don't know. Something's changing."

"What can I do?" he said desperately. "Tell me what to do."

She grimaced in pain.

"Willow!"

She pushed the feeling away and gave him a brave smile. "The vortex. You can open it."

"How? I…" He didn't understand.

"My computer. Look-" she swallowed hard. She was suffering. "Look-" A quick flash of intense panic burned across her face. "Oh."

"Oh, Love…" If only he could hold her!

She started to fade away.

"No! Don't go!" he begged.

"If I can't come back-"

"Don't say that!"

"If he'd…. if Daedalous had given me the choice. I would have gladly given my life to save her."

He shook his head, but knew it was the truth.

She grinned. "What are friends for?"

Then she gasped, unable to stifle a cry of pain.

"Willow…" Oh, God.

"I love you."

And she was gone.

Part 5

Xander looked at Giles and thought, not for the first time, that this was a very bad idea. "This is a very bad idea."

Giles ignored him, again, and continued his preparations for the spell. Xander sighed and looked around the warehouse. Okay, they had a rope and big sword. This was a really, really bad idea. But, as Giles had already pointed out, it was their only idea.

Willow's notes had given them the answers and now it was up to them to finish it. They would summon the demon. Never a good idea, especially when this particular demon had already defeated the Slayer once. But Buffy swore she was ready, and Xander wasn't about to argue with her. She paced like a caged tigress.

Giles on the other hand was eerily calm.

Ever since the visitation he seemed to have a clarity of vision and purpose. He was methodical and unswerving, possessing a single-mindedness that would save her or die trying.

The plan being, once the vortex was open, Giles was to step through and retrieve Willow. Simple. Insane.

"That's the last," Giles intoned. "Everyone ready? Buffy?"

She nodded. "Let's get on with it." She'd been itching for a good fight and was looking forward to taking care of some unfinished business.

Giles tied one end of the rope around his waist, carrying the rest coiled over his shoulder. He and Xander stood off to the side out of view. He began reciting the summoning spell.

Soon the swirling vortex appeared again at the top of the stairs. Giles felt a rush of heated anger. In his mind's eye, he saw Willow's face – afraid and vulnerable, as she had appeared that fateful night. He pushed the image away. He had to stay focused. For her.

Daedalous stepped out of the void and onto the platform. "Who dares disturb me?"

"That would be me," said Buffy as she struck a fighting pose at the bottom of the staircase, holding the broadsword above her shoulder. "And I'm just getting started."

He laughed and then smiled, if one could call it that.

"What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?" she taunted.

Grinning wickedly, he jumped down to the lower level and the battle was on.

Once they were sure Daedalous was fully enmeshed in the fight, Xander and Giles ascended the stairs. "I'll pull twice on the rope once I have her," said Giles as he tried to see into the inky black. He turned back to Xander and looked at him sternly. "If I don't succeed and the vortex starts to close, let go of the rope." Xander narrowed his eyes, paused and then nodded. He understood. Giles would return with Willow or he would not return at all.

The men shared one last look, regards and regrets - a thousand things unsaid.

Giles stepped into the murky whirlpool and disappeared. Xander tied his end of the rope around his own waist and gripped it fiercely. No matter what, he would not let go.

*****

Giles stepped through the window into the demon dimension and found...

Darkness.

Utter and absolute.

There was no sound. There was no smell, no taste, not even a sense of touch - not one physical sensation. He felt disembodied. Floating. Drifting. Only a consciousness and nothing more. It was incredibly disorienting. No sense of direction or even of movement. How could he possibly find her here? His resolve began to fade and doubts clouded his mind.

Instantly, things changed. The doubt transformed to anger then fear. The emotions were like electrical surges passing through his body. Intense and painful. It took a moment for him to realize that they weren't coming *from* him, they were coming *at* him.

As his other senses shut down, his emotional awareness grew. He felt a wave of revulsion. All around him - loathing, disgust, hate and vengeance. All luring him with their sirens' song. He had all of them within - locked up tight - but the shackles he'd placed on them began to loosen. He started to feel the intoxicating rush of a vengeance about to be met. Images played across his mind - a montage of cruelty and revenge.

Unbidden, thoughts (his worst fears) of things he'd imagined Daedalous doing to… inflicting upon Willow, came to him. Vile and disgusting. And his anger grew. It grew within him and without. He was suffused in it. The weight of his own emotions pressed down on him - keeping him still - immobile. His frustration grew at his inability to act - stoking the fires of his rage. One dark thought begetting another.

In the periphery, he felt a ripple in the evil that surrounded him. The vaguest sense of it drifted past him. A distant, flickering candle flame, it shown through the darkness. Somewhere, far away, was something different. A faint glimmer of innocence. Then when he recognized it, saw it for what it was, it stood out like a beacon. A lone island of purity in a sea of corruption.

Willow! It was her.

The light grew brighter.

His heart skipped a beat. She *was* here. She was alive. Oh, Jesus, Willow.

It was then he felt the others. Shifting. Moving. Presence without form. Energy comprised of all things malevolent. They swirled around him, brushing up against his mind. They tried to infect him with their hate, paint him with their agony. He could feel their lust for her, their hunger to devour her. To destroy her. He shuddered at the images that assaulting him. Oh, God.

The light began to fade.

No! Fear gripped his heart. Don't go! She was fading away, running from him. He felt awash with panic. She was so close. So close. No!

The light continued to dim.

Somehow, through his fear he began to realize it was his anger and desperation that were pushing her away. To her he was another dark thing, something to be shunned and feared.

He tried to purge himself of all his negative emotions. He had to reach out to her. He concentrated on the joy he felt at knowing she was still alive.

The Evil pressed against him. He ignored it. Thinking only of her. Willow. Sweet Willow.

The light grew stronger.

Spurred by his success, he filled his mind and heart with all the love he had for her. Pure love. True love. Absolute.

She burned as bright as a star!

Then an amazing thing happened. He felt her. He felt her truth and compassion. Her sweet innocence and selflessness. Her strength and bravery Her heart. Her very soul. It was exquisite. She was inside him.

They had become one. It was at once erotic and pure. Pleasure beyond measure. Her soul was so beautiful, more beautiful than he had ever imagined. He knew true bliss. And lost himself in it, lost his purpose. He didn't want to leave this place, this feeling, this small patch of heaven surrounded by hell.

*****

Xander held tightly onto the rope that hung from his waist. He watched as Buffy fought the demon, occasionally glancing back at the swirling portal. Hurry up, Giles, he urged silently. A loud crack brought his attention back to the battle on the floor below.

He had seen Buffy fight dozens of times, but never with such ferocity.

Daedalous was growing frustrated. He had so easily defeated the girl before. Of course, then he had caught her unaware and unarmed. Now she was prepared and wielded a broadsword like a knight of old.

Buffy's anger made her stronger, more focused, while the demon's made him careless. He roared in frustration as once again she deftly dodged his attack. He lunged at her, sure he could dispose of this child, but she sensed his move before he had even made it. She hefted the mighty sword and struck for all she was worth. In one swift movement, she cleaved his head from his body - silencing his outraged cry and replacing it with her own.

His lifeless body slumped to the floor and lay motionless. Buffy stood above him, contemplating how she would enjoy dismembering him, when Xander screamed. "Buffy!"

She ran up the stairs to the platform and gasped.

The vortex was closing. It must have been linked to Daedalous. Now that he was dead, the window to the demon dimension was degenerating inward.

Xander looked at her desperately as he clung to the rope that disappeared into the void. "He hasn't given me the signal yet!"

Buffy thought for a moment. "Pull him out," she said flatly.

"Willow's in there."

"She could be dead. Giles could have hallucinated the whole damn thing."

"What if he didn't?" Xander countered.

"There isn't time," she said, motioning to the shrinking opening. "Pull!"

"No." Their eyes locked. The unstoppable force met the immovable object.

"I can't lose him too," Buffy said plaintively, her eyes full of emotion.

Xander hesitated, looking back into the black morass, then nodded. Forgive me.

Buffy grabbed a hold of the rope and together they pulled.

*****

"NO!" he cried in anguish. She was gone. He'd lost her. He couldn't feel her anymore. The emptiness, the loss was devastating…. "NO!"

*****

With a rush the physical world reasserted itself. Blinding white light and a painful crush of gravity abused him as he came crashing to the floor. He lay quivering, shock convulsing his body. Slowly his senses began to return. He felt his arms move and then heard muffled sounds.

He wanted to die. The loneliness was too overwhelming, the loss and emptiness too great. How could he ever feel whole again. "Willow," he moaned.

"Giles?" Buffy said.

"I had her," he rasped. "She was…" He couldn't explain how it had felt. How complete, and now, how desolate.

"You did it," Buffy reassured him.

"Did what?"

"Giles…" said a weak voice, but one he'd know among thousands.

"Willow?" He sat up quickly, his eyes blinking rapidly against the bright light, searching for her. Dear God. There she was. Alive. She was cradled Xander's arms - tears coursing down his cheeks.

Giles wanted to run to her, sweep her into his arms, rain kisses on her face, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely breath. So overwhelmed by the sight of her, all he could do was stare.

"Miss me?" Willow quipped with a half smile.

Xander laughed and brushed away his tears.

"You could say that," Buffy said, her own tears flowing freely.

Willow's eyes fluttered for a moment. She was incredibly weak, her eyes were marred by dark circles and her skin was almost translucent. "I knew you'd come," Willow said softly.

Giles regained some of himself and made his way to her side. He knelt down next to her, afraid to touch her. Afraid she wouldn't be real.

Willow noticed Daedalous' dead body sprawled on the floor below. "You did it. I knew you'd figure it out," she said rewarding Giles with the smile he'd dreamt of so often.

He returned the smile tentatively and struggled to find his voice. "I'm afraid I wouldn't have, if you hadn't told me where to look."

She frowned in confusion. "When did I do that?"

His world stopped.

"All I remember," she continued, "I was researching Daedalous for you and Buffy and… then I was…" her face grew sad and tired, "then I was with him… the next thing I know I'm here with you. Which is a very good place to be." She hugged Xander, who heartily returned it, but stole a sympathetic glance at the Watcher.

He was destroyed. She doesn't remember. Maybe it didn't happen. Maybe I didn't tell her… she doesn't know… She doesn't really… love me. Oh, God. It was a dream. A fantasy. No one like Willow could ever love a man like me. An illusion. A delusion. I'm a fool. I've lost her again. No, worse than that. She was never mine to lose.

He sat back numbly and watched the three friends hug and delight in each other. He was empty, apart from her love, something he could watch, but never have.

"Let's go home," Buffy said as she helped Willow to her feet. Xander held one arm and Buffy the other, but Willow stood on her own two feet.

Slowly, they helped her make her way toward the door. Giles didn't move. Couldn't move. He watched as she moved further and further away.

"I must look like hell," she said with a small laugh.

Giles whispered sadly to the memory of what never was. "You look… so beautiful… Like an angel."

Willow stopped. Buffy and Xander looked at her in concern, but she ignored their stares. She turned back to Giles, her eyes meeting his. In a flash she saw herself standing in his bedroom, looking in the mirror, glowing - beautiful. Unspeakably so.

"This is how you see me?" her voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," he breathed. Did he dare hope?

Like warm water the memory caressed her. She took a tentative step toward him. Buffy reached out to help, but Xander held her back.

A few more small, painful steps and she was in front of him. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes stung with unshed tears. He wasn't sure if he could stand it much longer. He felt that same ache to hold her in his arms, but he was so afraid.

"Go ahead, Rupert. I won't disappear this time," she assured him.

He swallowed hard and held out a shaky had. It hovered near her cheek, his fingers trembling. Gently, so gently, he touched her face. He closed his eyes briefly, capturing the moment in his heart. When he opened them again, she was there. Smiling up at him.

She took his hand, strong and warm, and kissed the palm. He let out a shuddering breath. Then he pulled her to him, his arms encircling her. He felt her body press against his. He felt the beating of her heart echoing his own.

"I love you," she said softly against his chest.

And she filled the empty man.

"I love you, Willow." He dared to look into her eyes. So luminous, adoring and alive. "Let's go home."


THE END


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