"The Strength To Heal"

Author: Amy
Contact: Slvrbttn@aol.com
Notes: My eternal thanks go to Tracy for helping through the duration of this fic, Laura for letting me complain that I was never going to get it done, and Rebecca for letting me throw things her way out of the blue. Love you guys! For some obvious and maybe not so obvious, the losing of Buffy's power isn't due to Giles's giving her injections. Hopefully that will be understood as the story progresses.

Present

She walks down that road every night. Waiting, watching. She knows there's going to be a time when they'll come back. When everything will come crashing back to her, and she'll be able to, finally, deal with what fate handed to her. So she goes in the name of patrol, and waits.

Waits for them in silence.

Past

Buffy pulled her coat up tight around herself, trying to warm her cold body. Hating life. Hating that fate had thrown her this curve. How could she not have her powers, her strength? Life could never be the same for her, anyway. Not after the cloak of innocence had been torn away from her eyes. She had to be able to fight. And now she was... nothing!

She took a cautious glance across the street, clutching the book Angel had given her to her chest, and smiling, just the littlest bit at the thought of her boyfriend, as she made her way across the empty pavement. The two men standing by the truck that she was nearing were giving her strange looks, so her smile fled and she gave the truck a wide berth.

As she passed, one of the men called out. "Hey, sweetheart, how much for a lap dance?"

Buffy immediately tensed in anger, but she breathed out deeply. Her mind was screaming at her for her to do something, take some form of action against him, but her limbs were frozen in an automatic fear that she hadn't felt in years. Shrugging off the feeling as she heard the men chuckle to each other behind her, she continued on her way, holding the book even tighter.

A moment later, she wished she had been running.

One of the men caught her arm roughly and spun her around to face him. His breath was foul, his teeth yellow from the tar of cigarettes. Looking at her lasciviously, he gave a smile and Buffy's eyes glinted with rage and she brought her hand up, fisting it, and backhanded the man. She cried out in pain as her hand connected with his cheek, but he only laughed, one hand reaching out and fondling her breast through the shirt and coat.

Buffy's eyes went wide with terror. "N-no..." she managed to stutter out. "Please. You- you don't know what you're doing! Let me go!" Finally yanking away from him,

she clung to the book as though it were her lifeline and began to run.

The second man, who had been passive before, caught up with her easily and grabbed at the bottom of her coat. Buffy tumbled to the ground, scraping her cheek against the pavement. He chuckled, low in his throat, and pulled at the bottom of her jeans, dragging her three feet before she cried out in pain and then lifting her with one hand under her ribs and carrying her to the nearby alley.

Once there, he dumped her unceremoniously in a pile. The men looked at each other, and grinned as Buffy's heart thumped. Sunnydale, she thought, the word drifting by in a haze. Sunnydale is for vampires and demons. Humans have souls. Humans wouldn't do this. One of the men looked down at her and sniggered.

"So here's the deal, darlin," the first one said, "I'm Jake, and this here's Andy. You give us a real good time, you get to go home and see your mama after the night is done. You don't, well, you don't."

"Wait!" Buffy shouted, desperate. "I'll scream!"

Andy laughed. "Did you ever take a real good look at this town? Lotsa people scream here for some reason. Nobody takes a peek outside once the screamin' starts." Kneeling down by her, he took her chin painfully in his hands and jerked her eyes up to meet his. "You are such a pretty thing, ain't ya? Ain't she, Jake?"

Jake kneeled down on her other side and nodded eagerly. "Sure are, darlin. Sure is."

Taking her hair into his palm, Jake leaned down and gave Buffy a foul kiss, tasting like liquor and fumes. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, groping through her clothes, tearing her shirt with one easy gesture. Buffy gagged on his tongue and shrank back from his hands, gripping the book under her arm. Andy laughed and pulled the book away from her clutching hands, flipping through it. "Looks like the little girl likes to read."

Shooting a glance down at her, his hands tore at the pages, letting them drift uselessly to the ground, crumpled, helpless. Buffy watched them sink onto the damp pavement and her eyes focused on the words as her pants were ripped from her body, burning the skin on her thighs and hips. She tried once, futilely to shrug one of the men off of her-- she wasn't looking at them then, so she wasn't sure which--and tried to say no, but her throat was dry and closed up on her, making her choke on the word.

Her thin bra was torn away, and then her panties, and Buffy was left sobbing dryly in horror, naked. Her eyes stilled on the pages of the book Angel gave her and she thought of him, focused all her energy on him, screaming in her mind for him to come and save her. She thought his name, over and over, and then her legs were being spread, leaving red imprints on the sensitive skin. She looked at his handwriting, "Love, Always..."

And then a scream split through her throat into the air because someone was moving inside of her, tearing her, hurting her. One of the men licked her turned cheek and Buffy tried to wiggle away. She felt small, helpless, worthless, dirty. The filthy water made the pavement even more coarse and she felt it scratch at her back. It hurt, yes, but what was worse was the shrinking feeling inside of her, small. She wasn't really there, she told herself. It wasn't really happening.

And then the first man was done and he gave her another long lick on the cheek before climbing off of her trembling body. The second man took his place and proceeded to hurt her in the same way. Rape, she thought dully. Rape. I'm being raped. This is what rape is. Love, Always....

And then the second man was done and he got off of her, pinching the inside of her thigh harshly. Buffy moaned in pain, the sound low in her chest.

Zipping up their pants, the men strolled away and left Buffy there, weeping, gasping. She heard the sound of a truck start up a moment later and rolled over onto her side, holding together her ripping clothing, stuffing her legs back into her pants even as she shuddered in anguish. My fault, her mind screamed. Should have stayed with Angel. Love, Always... Angel. My fault. She stooped down to take that page with her, Love, Always... Angel would always love her.

Climbing to her knees and shoving the grungy, wet hair out of her face, she stumbled into the street, calling weakly for any car that would stop. After five or six, she lost count because she was so tired, one pulled over and opened the door from the inside. She saw it was a man and wanted to back away, but then looked closer out of habit and saw it was Giles. Wonderful Giles, Watcher Giles. He's going to take me to the ice show, she thought dazedly. I just have to ask him. He'll say yes. Giles loves me.

She fell into the car and pulled the door shut behind her as Giles sighed in relief. He started driving and patted her hand. She shied away from it, and he finally looked at her fully, his eyes widening.

"My Lord, Buffy, what happened?!" he gasped.

And then, only then, did the real tears come.

She sobbed all the way to the library, her tears making her face sticky and wet. Burying her face in her hands, she tried to hide from his gaze, tried to hide inside of herself, but couldn't and shrank away from the gentle hands that tried to comfort her. When the car stopped, she didn't move, didn't speak, just continued to cry and finally Giles went around and lifted her delicately out of the vehicle. She tried to shove him away, but then remembered that it was Giles who was going to take her to the ice show, and threw her arms around his neck, holding him close, holding someone close who loved her, who would never hurt her.

He left the car door open and carried her swiftly inside of the school, into the library, and then into his office. She looked around blearily as he covered her with a blanket. Giles skittered around the room, collecting rubbing alcohol and bandages and gauze from throughout the room. Finally he made his way back to her and dabbed at the flesh on her cheek that was bleeding from being dragged on the pavement. She shuddered again and then laid back, letting him heal her.

After a while, he broke the silence cautiously, quietly. "What happened, Buffy?"

Buffy turned her head back to his and met his eyes evenly, her own filling with large, crystalline tears, and his heart ached for her. Buffy's hand wandered up to his face and touched it lightly, tenderly, as a few stray tears spilled from the corner of her eyes.

"I was raped."

Giles's eyes snapped shut at her words. Though he had been suspecting something like it, once spoken, they were so much more hurting. His reply came out in a long, painful breath. "Oh, Buffy..."

His eyes remained closed, but his hand found hers and clasped it, offering all of his strength to her at the time when she most needed it. Buffy squeezed his hand and he looked down to see the tears again streaming down her face. He winced. The scrape markings were so much more obvious against the paleness of her skin and he reached up, touching her wet lashes with more regret than he had ever felt.

She pleaded with him brokenly, "Giles, don't tell anybody! Please... Please. I know how they'd look at me. They would... It would never be the same! Giles, please!"

Unable to refuse her, even knowing that he should encourage her to do what she was begging him not to, he slowly nodded and dipped his head against his chest. His head snapped up when some books on the outside table clattered over, and both Giles and Buffy strained their eyes to see out the window.

With a horrified face on, Cordelia stood there. She walked in dazedly, her eyes wide with sympathetic pain. Sitting down on the couch next to Buffy, she looked at Giles for a moment.

"Give us a minute, will you?" she asked softly.

He looked torn, not wanting to leave his Slayer, but somehow knowing that Cordelia could help some way. After shooting an uneasy look to Buffy for her assent, he nodded and left the room.

"Quentin Travers." Giles ordered through gritted teeth.

The unhelpful voice on the phone postponed him. "Password."

"My Slayer's been hurt, you bloody ignorant fool. Get him on the phone now!" Giles barked. The voice gave a shaky confirmation and Giles waited for his boss to pick up the phone.

"Travers here."

"Travers, we're stopping the test," Giles said, not beating around the bush.

"You must be mad Mr. Giles. No we're not." Rebuffed Travers coolly. "I understand that this is hard for you, for both of you. But as we discussed earlier, she must complete the test to--"

Giles cut him off. "She's been raped."

Travers paused and sucked in his breath. After a moment, he continued. "Well, this is a horrible turn of events, Mr. Giles, but you know as well as I do that when she loses her strength that it's time for the test. And what can we do about this?"

Giles spoke quietly in a voice full of muted rage. "Tra-- Quentin. We've been colleagues for a long, long time. I helped you celebrate the birth of your daughter, you told me insecurities over drinks, we've been through many things. So I'm going to ask you one question and then I'll do whatever you think is right and just." His voice dropped. "Were she Sarah, your daughter, the tiny life you held once in your hands... Were Buffy her, would you proceed with the test?"

Travers voice was shaky. "She's- she's not my.."

"But if she were."

"No. No, I wouldn't," the older man finally gave.

"Then pretend she is. Pretend you're not a Watcher, take my place as the only real father figure that Buffy has in her life, and call off the need for the test. We all know she has the courage and skill. We just need her to heal right now," Giles finished.

"Fine," Travers said finally. "Take care of your girl, Rupert. The Council will think that she's gone through with the test. But don't use our friendship against my job like this again."

Giles breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the phone, turning back on his heel and heading for his office. He stopped three feet from it when he remembered that Cordelia and Buffy were talking. He wondered what they were talking about.

Buffy looked absently at the one friend she would have never expected sympathy from. Cordelia stared back at her, gathering her thoughts.

Finally, she broke the silence. "You don't think it's ever going to feel better," she said confidently, quietly. "You want to scrub yourself until you have no skin left, but once you do that, you're going to hurt twice as much and not feel any better inside. Your eyes hurt from crying, your chest hurts from the pressure, and it feels like your heart is covered in filth."

Buffy gazed at her with large, understanding eyes and nodded silently. "How--"

"I was raped, too," Cordelia explained patiently. "When I was fifteen. By one of my father's business friends. You're the only one I've ever told, and you know what?"

"What?"

"It feels different now," she said softly. "I mean, now that I've told someone, someone I trust. I never even told my therapist, because she would have to tell somebody else. But it feels okay to tell you. You know why?"

"Because I've been through it now?" Buffy ventured in a hollow voice, the voice of a scared little girl.

"Yeah. But not just that. Because I've finally said it. Finally gotten past it enough to think of telling someone-- you-- without bursting into tears. You can't hold it in, Buffy. You need to tell somebody... Willow, Xander, your mom." Cordelia hesitated and then exhaled sharply. "Angel."

Buffy shook her head frantically at the name, looking down at the crinkled paper that was still clenched in her hand. "No," she whispered.

"Yes." Buffy's startled eyes flew up to Cordelia's strong ones. "I almost told Xander once. But I felt the same way you did, and I refused to let him know, afraid of what he would say about me. He wouldn't hate me. I know it now, I'm sure of it. Angel loves you, Buffy. He'd do anything for you. You have to tell him to have some kind of peace."

"I can't," Buffy sobbed dryly.

Cordelia nodded, pulling Buffy into a warm hug, which the Slayer clung to. "Yes. You can."

The door opened and Giles sprang to his feet. Buffy and Cordelia exited, the blanket still wrapped firmly around Buffy's shoulders. Cordelia gave Buffy's arm a touch and then turned to Giles. "I'm going to get a couple of things from my car. I'll be right back."

Giles nodded and Cordelia left the library. Buffy approached him, trying not to cause him more grief than she already had, he could see it in her eyes. He needed to tell her that he had known, he needed to tell her that it was his fault, but the look on her face stopped him. She took his hand and nodded toward the phone.

"Call them, call all of them."

Giles licked his lips, his mouth was suddenly dry. "All right. Buffy...?" He let the question hanging in the air, not having the will to ask it and give her more pain. She shook her head, scared and resolved at the same time.

"I'm going to tell them."

The small group of three sat quietly around the desk and watched the clock, waiting for the rest of them to arrive. After ten minutes, and no one had shown up, Buffy turned to Giles, suddenly panic-stricken. She tugged at his sleeve, her eyes filled with a new and unleashed pain.

"Giles!" she choked, on the edge of tears again. His eyes dropped to hers and he winced internally at what he saw there, taking her hand.

"What is it, Buffy?"

"Tell..." She paused, closing her eyes for a moment and breathing in deeply. "Can you... Would you tell my mom for me?"

He blinked. "Don't you think she would take it easier coming from you?" he asked gently. Buffy nodded in wholehearted agreement, her lips turned down.

"Yeah," she whispered, "But I don't think I would." Giles's eyes widened in alarm and he slowly nodded. She looked around the still library for a moment and then stood, wrapping the blanket around herself more securely. "I'm going to wait in your office. Cordelia?"

Cordelia stood too, not needing to be asked. "I'll come."

Buffy hesitated as she got to the door and turned around, finding herself looking at a very lost man. A person who seemed almost as lost as she was. She sighed heavily, her mind weary against the strain, her heart denying what had happened until it came time to confess it. "Would you send Angel and Willow and Xander and Oz in here when they get here?"

He lifted his head; he would. His shoulders slumped and Buffy's heart reached out to his, feeling worse than it ever had. "I'm so sorry, Giles. I should never have let this happen."

He didn't hear her, and she didn't really want him to. Instead, she shuffled into the office and quietly shut the door behind her.

Buffy and Cordelia waited in uneasy silence, clutching hands. Buffy would occasionally glance out side the window, but her mother was working very late that night and probably wouldn't get the message on the answering machine for another twenty minutes.

Angel arrived first, and as Buffy saw his face through the bookstacks, her throat constricted convulsively, as if she was going to vomit. Cordelia, in a moment of rare sympathy and identifying, petted Buffy's hair back, trying to soothe her. Buffy's voice was barely audible. "How am I going to do it? How am I going to tell him?"

Cordelia just nodded, not saying anything as they watched Angel lean down and talk to a very tired Giles. Giles said a few words before gesturing to the office, and Angel turned and walked over to it was a concerned look on his face. He opened the door, his eyes hardly passing over Cordelia, his thoughts only on Buffy. He took in her bruised, scraped face and dirty hair and licked his lips, swallowing hard in something that looked like pain.

Cordelia finally spoke up when Buffy didn't. "What did Giles say to you?"

Angel shook his head in a daze, kneeling in front of Buffy, still staring in shock. "He... told me to stay calm. What happened?" Angel breathed, reaching up to gently touch the scrape on her cheek. She didn't shudder when he touched her, but he did. He closed his eyes and then opened them, eyes full of a new knowledge that he didn't want to have. "Oh my God," he whispered, tears breaking his words.

"How did you...?" Buffy started to ask in a small voice, her eyes not meeting his.

With difficulty, Angel replied, "I smell... them on you."

Her voice trembled. "All over me?"

"Yes." He touched her hand softly and his lips grew into a thin line as he recriminated himself. "I should have walked you home," he growled under his breath. Fury quickly filled his eyes and his bloodlust sang through his veins. How good it would be to kill them. Kill the blackest hearts that walked the earth, tear their throats away with his hands, rip off the parts that the males loved so much that they needed to terrorize her. How good it would be to take away their security.

Buffy shuddered violently, and Angel realized that he had been mumbling his thoughts out loud. Her next words shocked him. "You don't... hate me?"

"What?" he exploded. Buffy cringed and even more regret overtook his heart.

"For... Do you hate me?" she whispered.

Angel reached up and trailed the tracks of her tears with his fingers. She closed her eyes at the simple, pure sensation and he realized that she truly believed that he would think less of her and that she needed to know the truth. "I don't hate you," he confirmed firmly, quietly. "I love you and I always will. I hate them. I want to kill them for doing this to you, Buffy."

"Not now," she said, her voice tinged with a question. He nodded and she continued. "Just hold me?"

He opened his arms and she sank into them, burying her face into his shirt and sobbing, letting him comfort her as only he could. Cordelia remained silent, watching this all play out, and then gracefully let herself out of the office.

Cordelia sat down next to Giles heavily. She paused, taking in his state: His elbows were on the table and his face was in his hands. Silent tremors wracked his shoulders and for a moment, Cordelia could only look at him, confused, before she realized that he was crying. That hit her harder than she had thought it would.

*Giles* was *crying*.

Her lips starting to tremble for the first time that night, she finally let go of some of the grief she had been holding in for Buffy and herself. Cordelia placed a hand on his back, but he didn't stop crying, couldn't seem to be able to stop.

"It's my fault," he whispered hoarsely, and Cordelia knew he wasn't talking directly to her. "I knew... It's my fault."

"What's your fault, Giles?"

Giles breathed in slowly, calming his wave of tears and looked up at her. "I knew that when a Slayer turns eighteen, she loses her strength for three days and three nights. She was supposed to have performed a test tonight, and I didn't tell her. I could have prevented it."

More tears formed in his eyes and he looked away from Cordelia, who was now crying openly too. "She's going to forgive you, Giles. You didn't know this would happen. Right now she's in there thinking that it's her fault. Just... reassure her that it's not, make her know that she's not to blame, even if you have to tell her a hundred times a day. And know that she's going to heal in time."

"Can you be sure? Can you be sure that I didn't kill her spirit with this secret, with what happened?" he asked bitterly.

Cordelia nodded gently, even though he wasn't looking at her. "Yes," she whispered. "I'm almost sure."

Giles looked down at his hands and replied softly. "Sometimes almost doesn't make it."

She was about to respond when the library doors were thrust open and Xander, Willow and Oz ran in, looking breathless. Noting the tearstained faces of both Cordelia and Giles, they paused and looked around.

Willow could feel it. Something was very, very wrong. She slowly approached Giles and Cordelia and looked at them, her eyes already becoming moist. "Is Buffy okay?"

There was a long silence and Cordelia and Giles looked at each other for guidance. After a moment, Cordelia spoke up. "No."

Xander and Oz crept to the group quietly; the feeling of foreboding wasn't lost on any of them. Finally, Xander voiced the question that was on most of their minds. "Is she... dead?"

Giles looked away, hiding his new tears and again it was Cordelia who answered. "No. But she might want to be right now."

Willow exploded. "What the hell does that mean?" she cried. Oz took her hand to calm her down, but she yanked away from him and glared at Cordelia. Cordelia's eyes were wide and sad and she shook her head.

"I think you should let her tell you," she murmured, gesturing to Giles's office.

Willow nodded curtly and grabbed Oz's hand back, and then Xander's. Pulling them for the office at a quick pace, they were stumbling behind her when she suddenly stopped. They lurched into her back and looked up to see her staring through the window, watching what was taking place in there. Cordelia, following, stopped too, and stared with Willow.

Angel was holding a bruised and injured Buffy in his arms, tenderly stroking her hair back as she cried raggedly. She clung to his shirt as though it were life saving and let torrents of tears wash her face. Staring up into Angel's eyes, Buffy mumbled something Willow couldn't hear and burst into tears again. Angel took her gently back into his embrace, and Willow found herself near tears with what she saw next.

Angel was weeping.

Finally, she opened the door and walked over to Buffy slowly, sitting next to her on the couch. She took Buffy's hand, and Buffy looked up at her, eyes shimmering and red with tears, her face scraped, dirty and bloody.

"I was raped, Will," she whispered dully. "I was raped."

With that, she fell back towards Angel, grateful when he wrapped her tightly in his arms. Angel looked at Willow with eyes so full of grief that it was painful to see, and Willow slowly joined the hug. Xander and Oz looked at each other for a moment, faces soaked with shock and then came over to the couch. Xander placed his hand on the top of Buffy's head, hopelessly hoping for the knowledge of what to do. Oz sat down next to Willow, and placed a comforting arm around her, his hand brushing Buffy's. Cordelia kneeled down near Angel and wiped away the tears as they came.

They wept together.

Giles watched through the open door, his misery almost matching the young girl's in there, whom he cared for more than life. Placing his head back in his palms, he took some deep breaths, hoping they would calm his racing heart. But they didn't, and the tears pressed his eyelids for release, which he refused to give.

A hesitant, scared voice broke through his thoughts, and Giles snapped his head up to find himself staring at Joyce. He swallowed painfully and gestured to the chair next to him, which she cautiously sat down in, her eyes focused on what was happening in his office.

Giles tried to keep his voice low. "Mrs... Joyce. Joyce, I don't want to have to tell you this, I don't even want it to have happened, but Buffy asked me to..." His mouth was suddenly dry, he licked his lips. Joyce took his hand and searched his eyes.

"I already know that it's worse than ever before," she started softly, "so please, just tell me."

"Buffy was... She was..." Giles's throat closed up, and a few tears escaped. "She was raped. By two men, not far from here, in an alley."

Joyce stared blankly at him for several moments with an uncomprehending look on her face. A slow, dawning understand finally swept over her features and she looked almost confused, glancing fearfully back at the office. "But," she rasped, "I thought... Couldn't she h-hurt them? Couldn't she... kill them?"

Giles stared passed her, to the wall and shook his head, resolving not to fall apart in front of Buffy's mother. "Whenever Slayer turns eighteen, she loses her powers for a period of three days," he explained dimly. "She was walking home from Angel's house and they... apparently, they attacked her. She's horribly bruised and cut, in several places, but I think... I think it's worse on the inside. She refuses to get medical attention for it."

At length, he pried his eyes off the wall and turned back to her. Joyce had one hand at her throat, and her face was horrified, stricken. The urge to be with her daughter warred with the urge to find those men, and to hurt them, and the urge ask him again, to make sure he was positive. Maybe he was wrong, maybe her little girl really wasn't hurt at all.

The words were about to leave her mouth, but she stopped, her eyes locking with Giles's. No, those eyes held too much pain to not be sure, those eyes wanted to die for what had happened, wanted to weep and rage and kill. Those eyes couldn't take anymore questions, they could barely contain all of the questions they already held.

Joyce whispered, "What should I do?"

Giles shook his head tiredly. "I don't know." He nodded towards the office, where the children and Angel were still surrounding Buffy. "She has so much support," he said to himself, "That I'm not sure whether or not it's appropriate to interrupt. I don't know what I can do."

Joyce laid her eyes on him evenly, and saw a man who had aged overnight, a man who was as brokenhearted as she. "Do you love her as much as I do?" she asked softly.

The answer wasn't hesitated. "Yes."

"Then it's entirely appropriate," Joyce murmured, her throat full of suppressed tears. "Come on," she advised, getting up out of the chair and heading for the office. Letting her tears go, she felt something inside her chest rip in half as she watched her daughter and her daughter's friends crying, as the whole revelation of it slammed into her mind. Strained, gasping sobs started, and she stood in front of the circle of friends, crying. Giles haltingly placed his arms around her, and relaxed when she turned to him gratefully, needing someone to cry with, needing someone to hold onto.

He needed someone as well.

After a long while, Buffy pulled out of the group embrace and sat apart from them, her breaths slow and even. She looked at them, her voice beginning soft and then hardening. "You know, you all know now. And I'm fine. I'm not seriously injured or anything, and... I don't want to talk about this anymore. Ever. Like it didn't happen, okay?"

"But Buffy!" Willow spoke up, her eyes wide and rimmed with tears.

Buffy turned to her best friend, a smile softening her face. "Thank you, Willow. But really, please. If you want me to get better, I need to forget about this. I'll be fine." Angel sat silent, watching her with his dark eyes, and she turned away from his gaze.

Joyce broke in. "Buffy... Honey, it's okay to need help. And you do for something like this. It... it wasn't your fault, baby."

Buffy looked down angrily at her hands. "Fine. Whatever. I just don't want to talk about it. It's over, you all know, we've all cried together, it's done. Done." She looked at them pointedly and then repeated herself for the third time. "*Done.*"

Giles cleared his throat. "Buffy..."

"Giles," she cried, "I don't know why I even talked about it in the first place! I just want to forget, okay? Just let me forget!"

Cordelia stared at her hotly. "You don't forget, Buffy. It gets worse and worse until it's eating away at your insides. This isn't something you forget! You *can't* because it's *not* possible. This took part of you away, and maybe you think now everything is okay, but it won't ever really be if you just fucking forget!" Her voice rose in volume until she was yelling her words. Lifting herself up off the ground, she spun on her heel and started stalking away.

She stopped, though, a foot from the door. Turning around, she met Buffy's shocked gaze. "You really don't ever forget, Buffy, no matter how much you would like to, no matter how much you think you have. It doesn't go away," she finished softly and then left the room. The rest stared after her in silence until Buffy spoke again.

"Well, she's her and I'm me. I'm trained to fight, and win, and I'll win over this. All right? No talking about it, okay?"

Against their better judgment, under the worried eyes of Angel, the rest of them gave their assent.

A ticking watch.

The whir of the tires.

The unsteady breathing of her mother.

Buffy closed her eyes tightly against the sounds, as if not being able to see would shield her of the pain of hearing. She turned her head toward the window and stared out as the ground flashed by the door. Her mother cleared her throat and Buffy glanced back over as Joyce began to speak.

"You need to..."

"Mom." Buffy cracked the word like a whip. "Didn't you agree? Didn't you say you would try to help by not talking about it?" Her voice was tired, stressed, reaching a breaking point.

Her mother's voice was sharp, but compassionate at the same time. "Buffy. You need to get tested. For..." Joyce choked for a moment and then went on. "For pregnancy, for sex.. Sexually transmitted diseases."

Buffy's face hardened and she gave a nonchalant shrug. "My period is due in about a week, so if I'm late I'll just get a home test. And my system has built up immunity to... the other sort of thing."

Joyce looked at her sideways. "What?" she asked faintly.

"My immune system. I mean, if I weren't the Slayer, I could see the sense in it, and I'd be all over it, but Mom. I *am* the Slayer. Haven't you noticed that I don't get sick lately? Giles explained it all to me a couple of months ago. The longer I go being the Slayer, the more immunity I'll build up against natural illnesses. I'm not a regular girl." Buffy crossed her arms over her chest.

Joyce spoke up a minute later, hesitant, cautious. "Aren't you, though? Right now, I mean? ...Until your powers come back?"

Buffy closed her eyes again, in pain.... couldn't fight, couldn't save herself. My fault, my fault, my fault. Her voice in her head screamed and Buffy clutched at her ears suddenly to block it out.

Calming down, she cast an ashamed look to her mother, whose hands were holding tightly onto the steering wheel, the knuckles turning slowly white. Buffy licked her lips. "Yeah... I guess I am."

Her mother's turn in the direction of the clinic was expected.

Angel prowled around the library angrily, helplessly. He growled in fury and kicked a chair, which immediately broke and tumbled to its side. Giles watched him silently, taking off his glasses and cleaning them. "Angel?"

"Fuck them," Angel hissed through bared teeth. "Fuck them both. I could kill them now and not care. I could kill them and feel good."

Giles nodded; finally they had something to relate with, though he hated what led this union to appear. "As could I." His eyes darkened, narrowed. "I could kill them just as easily, and I'm meant to help preserve humanity, even the less than innocent kind. But where is the humanity in those men?"

Angel sat down heavily in a chair at the table and buried his face in his hands. "I want to kill them, Giles. I want them to die. To die at my hands. I want... I want them to know how much pain, how many consequences, how much remorse accompanies you once you..."

"Once you what?" Giles prompted, his breath held.

"Once you regain your soul," Angel continued miserably. "How much torment fills your mind when you have a conscience, what the knowledge does to your heart. I want them to..."

Giles interrupted in a hard voice, completing Angel's thought. "Suffer."

Xander chased her through the quiet parking lot, rushing to get to her, at least to walk her to her car. He caught Cordelia by the arm and spun her around to face him, somehow not surprised when she struggled against his grip.

"Let me go!" she shouted. "Xander, get your hands off of me, or so help me I'm gonna..."

His eyes sparked and he gave her a small smile. "I'm gonna what?" he said, parroting the words that led to their first kiss.

She looked up at him with teary eyes. "What do you want?" she asked softly, resigned.

"I want to know what happened to you, that you know so much about... About..." He couldn't finish the sentence; it was too hard a word to get out over his tongue.

"Rape?" she suggested mildly. "Sexual assault? Forced intercourse?"

"Your indifference doesn't fool me, Cordy. Not now. Not anymore," he muttered in a low voice. Her eyes glittered in the moonlight, and she trembled against him, allowing him to pull her into his arms for a moment.

"It was years ago, okay? And I told Buffy nothing but the truth. I'm never going to be healed. Neither is she. Not really. You can move past it, but it's always going to be there, reminding you, shaming you. It's not..." Her voice was thick with tears. "It's not possible to really heal, I don't think."

"Yes it is," Xander murmured into her hair, stroking her back tenderly. "I'll stake my heart on it."

"Your heart?"

Xander pulled away from her an inch and smiled softly at her. "Yeah. My heart."

Willow and Oz drove to her house in silence until they reached her curb. She started to reach for the door handle and then stopped, turning to look at him. Her eyes misted over and she looked lifeless, dull and sad. "Things will never be the same, will they?" she whispered.

Oz shook his head, took her hand. "No. But things change all the time, Baby. Things haven't been the same since ever. You gotta count on the changes. Sometimes that's all that's gonna get you through, I think."

Willow leaned over and brushed his lips with hers. "Thank you."

He looked surprised. "For what?"

"Being you. Being you in the way that only you can be." A shining tear spilled out and trailed down her cheek, creating a glimmering path on her skin and Oz reached up to wipe it away with his thumb. She caught his hand as he pulled away and kissed it, kissed her tear away so that it wouldn't soil his fingers and then lifted her trembling mouth to his for a longer, deeper kiss. After a moment, she broke off with a cry.

"What is it, Will?" he asked, disturbed by her pulling away so abruptly. She shook her head and he took her chin in his hands, lifted her face so that she would have to look at him. "What is it?"

Her voice shook. "B- B- Buffy," she choked through her tears. "Sh-she's my b-best friend and I c-can't help her. Oh, Oz. Why can't I help her?" Her voice was that of one in total despair, and Oz slid his arms around her, holding her close, petting her hair back from her wet face soothingly.

"Shh... She doesn't need your help right now, she wouldn't take it. She needs your support, Honey, and that's what you're best at giving," he whispered into her neck.

She mumbled something unintelligible and shook against him, the trembles wracking her body like they would never stop.

Both the counselor and the doctor spoke to Buffy about what she should do in a situation like what had happened, but every time they opened their mouths, she would close up, turn her face to the wall, tighten her lips and not listen. She didn't want to listen. She couldn't listen.

It was daylight when they got out of the clinic. Buffy, other than her outward physical injuries, had been given a fairly clean bill of health, though there had been some vaginal tearing that might scar later. Buffy shuddered when she heard that, and she found herself asking in a small voice, "Does that mean I can't have children someday?" Though children were something she had said she had never wanted, the idea that she wouldn't be able to have them if she so chose terrified her.

The doctor assured her that she would, indeed, be able to carry and deliver healthy children one day, and, seeing Buffy's small vulnerability, began speaking again. But Buffy, having heard all she needed to know, turned her head to the wall again and stopped listening.

Closing her ears. Not hearing. She was getting good at it.

On the way home, a few stray tears slid out from under her tightly closed eyelids and she found shivers encompassing her. With a look of unconcealed concern, her mother braked quickly, and pulled over to the side of the road.

"What is it, Honey? Tell me." Joyce took her daughter's hand, but it remained lifeless and cold in her grip. She began to panic. "Tell mommy what's wrong, Sweetie! C'mon, Baby, tell me what's happening!" she cried out.

And as suddenly as the tremors started, they turned into laughter, helpless, hysterical laughter and Buffy launched herself into Joyce's arms, laughing and crying at the same time. Joyce stroked her hair, her back. "Tell me, Baby," she quietly commanded.

Buffy shook her head against Joyce's shoulder. "I... I'm the Slayer," she whispered.

"Yes, Buffy, you are," Joyce encouraged, relieved that her daughter was finally coherent again. "The Slayer. Yes."

"I would-- I would die for people. I would give up my life for a woman I met on the street. That's what I do," she mumbled, tears streaming out of her eyes and into the cloth of Joyce's sweater. "I save them. I save them. But..."

"But what, Buffy?"

Buffy's voice cracked. "I wouldn't. I wouldn't. That same woman I would die for so that she would live... If she were being... if she were being raped, I wouldn't give that up so that she wouldn't be. I couldn't. I *couldn't*, Mom," she whispered feverishly.

Buffy's mom let out a low, pained moan, the sound of ultimate grief and horror. Her tears fell onto Buffy's dirty hair and disappeared.

"I know, Baby," she whispered. "And I wouldn't want you to."

He sat alone in his office. Trying not to think, not to feel anything. Trying to turn off his heart as he knew he should have done when he walked in those doors two and a half years ago. It didn't work, nothing worked. He was in love with her, hopelessly in love with her, as all of her friends were in love with her. But he was more than her friend. He was her Watcher.

He was her father.

At least, Giles had liked to think of himself as such. Until tonight. How could a father not protect his daughter? How could he have let this happen to her?

Giles looked around the room slowly. His gaze wandered to the chair Angel had been sitting in before he left, and then to his desk, which was covered in his precious papers. Standing up, he walked with measured steps over to his desk. Placing his palms flat on the surface, he calmly looked down at the papers and ancient texts that laid there.

Then he exploded.

His arms skimmed the top, throwing books and sheets of paper onto the ground. His glass trinkets shattered on the floor with the impact as they were thrown off, embedding themselves in his slacks and cutting into his legs. Turning to his shelves, he did the same, yelling in anger, flinging objects into the walls.

Spent, he sat back down and looked around in something like satisfaction. He deserved no better than her, no more. Truth be told, he deserved less. He thought of the men who had done this to Buffy.

"Fucking bastards," he growled.

A voice spoke up from the doorway, a little cautiously. "I second that."

Giles looked up to see Xander standing there, his lips tense and white. Xander looked back at him and let the fury glimmer behind his eyes before he sat down on the couch slowly.

And then another voice came into the room. "Anyone mind if I third it?"

Xander and Giles looked at Oz, who had his fists clenched in anger as he stood in front of the door. He walked briskly over to the couch and sat down next to Xander, sliding his eyes from the Watcher to his girlfriend's best friend.

Giles cleared his throat, leveled his mind as to not erupt again. "Oz," he said evenly, "I hope this doesn't offend you, but you of all people seem to have the least attachment to Buffy. I understand that this is hard for..."

"It does offend me," Oz interrupted quietly. "She's my friend too. I may not have known her for as long as any of you, but she's saved Willow's life on many occasions, and that's not the sort of thing you forget. I don't have a lot of friends. She's one of them. One of the best." He pinned Xander and Giles with his gaze, daring them to refute what he said.

Giles shook his head. "All right."

Xander licked his lips slowly, nodding. "Which begs the question: What can we do about this?" Giles lifted his head, a thought occurring to him, and then leaned over to the phone. He picked up the receiver and then hurriedly began to dial. "Uh, Giles? What are you doing?" Xander asked after a moment.

Giles looked at him. "Finding out what we can do about this."

She was sleeping, restlessly tossing under her sheets. Joyce watched her, sitting in the chair across from the bed, her brow knitted worriedly. Buffy called out something in her sleep and Joyce let the tears slip out from underneath her eyelids, wishing that she knew of some way to comfort her daughter.

A strained voice broke into her thoughts. "Is she okay?"

Joyce turned, startled, and then relaxed when she saw Angel standing in the doorway. "No," she sighed, "She's not. How did you--"

"I was outside, walking by, and I heard her say something," Angel explained quietly.

"From outside?"

"Vampire," he reminded her. He looked out of the window, cringing. "Sun up is very soon. I should go."

Joyce rose from her chair. "The shade draws. You could stay. I'm going to go downstairs and fix her something to eat for when she wakes up." She started to leave the room, but stopped halfway to the hall, and turned back. "Watch over her."

"With all I have," he agreed softly. Joyce nodded and left.

Angel drew the shade down, and closed the curtains. Looking at Buffy for a moment, his eyes dark and tormented more than they had ever been, he took his place beside her. Stretching out on the bed, above the covers, he wrapped his arms around her and let her settle her face against his chest. She tensed as his hands tentatively touched her hair, and then eased herself against him when he began whispering.

"It's going to be okay, Buffy," he said, hushed. "It'll be okay if I have to die making it that way for you. I promise, my love. I promise."

Angel felt his eyes get moist, and he determined silently that it was one promise he would never break.

They tore at her clothes, they made her bleed. Inside and out. Inside and out, she was bleeding. She shook underneath them, their faces burned inside her memory. Forever and ever. Always...

Buffy watched the papers flutter to the ground, the papers of her book, the book Angel gave her. She cried out helplessly, reaching for them, but her arm was blocked and pinned by someone who hated her and wanted to hurt her. Why couldn't she hurt them back? Why did they hate her so much? She would have died for them.

She was dirty and torn when they left her. Her soul was dirty and torn, irreparable. Ashamed, ashamed. "No!" she screamed. "NO!!"

Buffy woke up, startled and still screaming, clutching at Angel's shirt. "No," she whispered raggedly. "Not to me, not again. Make it stop, Angel. Please... please..."

Angel stared in horror as she fell into sobs again, and he tried to soothe her, but she refused comfort. "Buffy!" he finally cried out when she didn't calm.

Her tremors eased and she looked up at him tearfully. "It hurts when I walk, Angel," she mumbled with a dry mouth. "...Bath. I want to take a bath, want to get clean. Please."

Angel slowly nodded and stood, lifting her in his arms and cradling her as though she was a child. Carrying her into the bathroom, he sat her down on the toilet and began running the water. As it heated and the bath slowly filled, he kneeled at her feet and looked at her eyes. Haunted eyes, once so clear and happy and blue, now filled with something worse than death, worse than a thousand nightly terrors.

He turned off the water and stood to leave, but Buffy tugged on his arm weakly. "Stay with me?" she asked in a small voice.

Not able to deny her, he nodded and kneeled again, slowly drawing her night shirt off over her shoulders and head. Her hair tumbled back down as the shirt came off, and Angel sucked in some useless breath as he took in the state of her body. Scrapes all along her arms and chest and shoulders and back, a bite mark on the curve of her left breast. Angel's fingers wandered over the injuries and Buffy trembled as he touched them, wanting to heal her.

He slowly peeled away her panties and she stood to step out of them, steadying herself by holding onto his shoulder. Angel's eyes welled as he noticed the black bruise on the inside of her thigh, where fingers had pinched her. He touched it lightly and felt her wince with pain, but she allowed his silent inspection. His hand drifted along the line of her body gently, touching her but with not enough pressure to hurt her wounds. His fingers found the bruises and abrasions on her breasts and he placed his hands over them softly as he wept. Buffy stepped closer to him, naked and trusting, and let him fold her in his arms, let him kiss the top of her hair.

At length, she pulled away and looked at the steaming water. Her eyes were bright with repressed crying and she motioned to the tub. Angel nodded and lifted her slight form easily, lowering her slowly into the hot water. She sank into it and rested her head against the back, looking at him.

He swallowed thickly as he saw some of the dried blood from one of her injuries float through the water and dissipate. "Do you want me to stay?"

She nodded, her eyes fixed on him, and stretched out her hand. He took it and settled himself on the floor beside the bathtub. "Yes," she said softly, loving him for not hating her, "Stay always."

A timid but insistent knocking brought Cordelia to the door. She faltered before opening it, wondering who could be there at just after sunrise. Finally she turned the knob and let her jaw drop when she saw who was standing in front of her.

Willow smiled nervously, shifting from foot to foot. "Uh, hi."

Cordelia's expression cooled and she stared at the other girl. "Hi." When Willow didn't say anything else, Cordelia cocked her head to the side. "You wanted...?"

Willow shrugged. "Just to talk. I know it's early, but I thought that maybe you weren't asleep yet. Or that maybe you were having bad dreams," she mumbled. "Like me. I thought maybe it'd be nice to..."

"Share my most private feelings with the girl who cheated on her boyfriend with mine?" Cordelia bit out. Willow's eyes widened and her face fell. She turned to leave, but Cordelia caught the edge of her coat and turned her back around. Cordelia's expression softened and she sighed. "Yeah, it might be nice."

Willow gave a trembling smile and walked in the door, following Cordelia her bedroom. She stood awkwardly, looking around, as Cordelia flopped down on her lush mattress and stared up at the ceiling.

"You know," Cordelia started, "I'm not going to bite you if you relax. You can sit."

Willow gave a shy laugh and sat down next to her on the bed, folding her legs underneath her body comfortably. "Thanks."

"Sooo..." Cordelia murmured out loud, not really knowing what to say.

"Sooo..." Willow mirrored. She let out a deep breath. "I guess I thought... I don't know. I mean, Oz has been comforting to me, even though I'm not really the one who needs comfort. I- It's just that, this is so scary to me. Not the... rape," she stumbled over the word, "But the Buffy being raped thing. That isn't to say that rape isn't scary," she said hastily.

Cordelia rolled on her side to look at the other girl, and propped her head up with her arm. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Look, I seem to be Confessional Girl today, but I was raped a while ago and still I have trouble understanding what Buffy must be going through."

Willow touched her arm, her brow furrowed. "You were? You do?"

Cordelia nodded. "Yeah. It was a long time ago. But I'm pretty okay, I think. Sometimes I still have nightmares... That's not really the point though. I just think that it must be even worse for Buffy, a fighter without her strength and all. How she thinks she could have stopped it when she couldn't have? Of course, everyone who this happens to thinks that, and it's not true."

Willow's fists ground the sudden tears out of her eyes. "I know what you mean. Or, I'm trying to. And trying not to. Is that horrible?"

"Yeah," Cordelia said, giving her a small smile. "It means you're Satan."

Willow giggled and promptly slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes horrified. "I didn't just mean to..."

Cordelia sat up. "Hey. It's okay to laugh and stuff. Sometimes that's the only thing that helps in serious conversations like these. If you can't laugh, then the only thing left to do is to cry, and no one wants blotchy eyes for the rest of their life."

Willow nodded slowly. "Are-- Are you okay. With what happened to you?"

Cordelia locked eyes with the redhead. "Can I change the subject for a second?" she asked. Willow nodded somberly. "What would you say if I told you that Xander kissed me tonight?"

Willow's mouth dropped open. "I uh... I guess I'd say good for you. And him. And all of us. Is it my business?" she murmured honestly, blushing.

"That's what I was wondering," Cordelia said softly. "If it was your business, if you would be upset over it. Because I'm not going to fall for a guy who's in love with another girl again, not even if he's charming and funny and... and..."

"Makes you feel better about things?" Willow suggested quietly.

"Yeah. I told him tonight, Willow. And he held me and kissed me and I felt better. But I want to be sure that... I just don't know that I forgive him yet. Or you," Cordelia admitted.

"I'm not sure that you should ever forgive either of us," Willow said truthfully. "But, Cordy, he's so in love with you that it dizzies *me* sometimes. If that helps you choose, then good. If it doesn't, it can't really hurt you knowing. What does this have to do with any of what we were talking about before?"

Cordelia shrugged, picking at an invisible thread on her comforter. "Trust, I think. Forgiveness. Healing."

Willow looked away. "Have you healed yet?"

Cordelia smiled gently at her, a smile that warmed her face, even though she didn't know which heartbreak Willow was referring to. "I think I'm getting there."

"I wish we could make love," Buffy whispered. Angel's head snapped up to look at her. She almost seemed relaxed, except for the telltale sign of her crunched forehead. The steam was still rising from the water, misting her face lightly, and her hair rested in a bunch of curls on top of her head. She opened her large eyes and glanced at him, then looked away. "Sorry."

Angel cleared his throat quietly. "Don't be. I'm just not sure if... Are you okay with this subject?"

"Are you?" she countered, looking down at her injured body through the water.

"I am. But after... Considering... I mean..." He trailed off, searching the ceiling for words.

"I wish that you could take away this feeling," she volunteered suddenly. Angel quieted and leaned against the edge of the tub, slipping his hand underwater to clasp hers. She looked down at their joined hands. "I feel so... So bad inside, Angel. It hurts more than it does on the outside. And I wish that we could-- I mean, if we could, I think that maybe it would," her voice broke and then faded to a whisper, "Go away."

He reached his free hand up and brushed back the hair that was tumbling in her face. "It wouldn't make anything better right now, Buffy. As much as I wish for that intimacy too, it might hurt you more in the long run, and make you resent me if we could."

Her eyes turned glittery with tears. "I guess." She quietly pulled her hand away from the warmth of his and turned her face to the wall, closing her eyes in what looked like grief.

"Don't." Angel's voice was surprisingly stern and Buffy's eyes fluttered open again.

"Don't?"

"Don't do that. Don't take yourself away from me, Buffy. I don't think it's right for you to do it with everyone else, I think it will make it harder for you, but I simply won't allow you to do it with me. Don't close yourself off to love and comfort and truth because you encountered the worst kind of pain. Please." His voice was raw with emotion as he pleaded with her, and a tear streaked down his face.

Buffy lifted her dripping hand out of the water and reached up to wipe the tear away, pawing his face lightly. "I'm sorry..."

"Please, Buffy," he broke in, "Don't be sorry either. None of it's your fault. None of it."

"I wish I could believe you," she whispered hollowly.

"You will," he promised, hoping that he was right. "Someday, when all of the hurt is behind you and nothing else is inside of you other than the light that always resides there, you'll look back and realize that there was nothing you could have done to prevent any of this." Another tear, and then another slid down his cheeks and Buffy looked at him, startled.

"Angel," she said wonderingly, "There was nothing you could have done either. There's nothing that can be done."

He licked his lips. "I'll try not to blame myself if you'll do the same."

"We'll see," she conceded softly.

Angel paused, thinking over her comment that nothing could be done. "Yes. We'll see."

"Angel?"

"What, Honey?" he asked quickly, shaking the drowning thoughts off of him.

Her voice was small, her eyes large and rounded and shining blue. "Would you kiss me?"

He smiled tenderly at her, touching her face as though it were a priceless jewel to be handled carefully and with love. "With pleasure, Beloved," he answered, tracing her lips with his finger.

The kiss didn't lack passion, but it didn't belong with that category. In an instant, it was realized that the kiss was about tenderness and nothing more or less. Tenderness and sharing and understanding and love.

And, best of all, trust.

Giles abruptly hung up the phone, looking at the two boys warily. "You do understand what we're discussing, do you not?"

Xander nodded. "I'm all over it. We've all got aspects."

Oz looked at him and lifted his eyebrows. "Aspects?"

Xander shrugged tightly. "Yeah. Giles is the Watcher, but he's also the Dad-guy. To all of us, but especially Buffy. I'm guessing he can make Ripper come out on command. I tend to lean towards cheesy comedian, but I have basic and not-so-basic military training which might come in handy. Oz, you're the laidbackalooza guy, but you're a werewolf too, so there's a bunch of things there that will help. Especially... Well, I think your sense of smell. Right?"

Oz nodded mutely, understanding of what Xander was saying sweeping over his face. Giles looked at them seriously. "Then we're set to do this? Please tell me if either of you aren't prepared, because I'd rather know now than later."

Oz's knuckles were as white as Xander's lips. "Ready," they murmured in unison.

Giles stood, brushing off his slacks tensely. "Good. Then as soon as it gets dark, we're going to see Willy."

"It's getting cool," Buffy spoke up when Angel pulled away from her mouth.

He looked at her, gave her a small smile. "I didn't realize that you were getting that tired of my kisses."

Buffy gave a little laugh and then seemed to realize what her situation still was and calmed down, settling on a gentle smile for him. "The water. Not the kissage."

"I hoped not," he said, gazing at her warmly. "Would you like help out?"

"Yes please."

His arms and hands went under the water, scooping her body in them and lifting her out easily, as though she were a feather. The water dripped down from her, splashing them both as it reached the bath, and he hugged her close. Gently he kissed the top of her head and the placed her on the toilet. He handed her a towel and allowed her to wrap herself in it and then glanced towards the door. "Would you like me to get a robe or something for you?"

She looked down at her towel-clad body and thought of her mother downstairs and whoever else might be down there. She nodded. "Thanks."

"Sure," Angel said smoothly. "I'll be back in a second."

Angel opened the door and slipped out, shutting it quickly behind him. Bolting to her room, he opened her top drawer and smiled, pleased, when he found her underclothing. Plucking a couple of soft items, that would be sure not to hurt her irritable skin, out, he turned around for the closet and stopped silently when he saw Joyce standing there.

"I'm... Sorry, Mrs. Summers."

She shrugged. "It's okay. Where's Buffy and why are you holding her underwear?"

If Angel could have blushed, he would have. Instead, he settled for looking at the floor in embarrassment. "She's in the bathtub. She felt... She wanted to get clean. I was just getting her some things."

Joyce bit her lower lip for a moment, a nervous tick she thought she had gotten over when she was a teenager. "Did you watch her?" she asked sharply.

Angel's back straightened and he looked at her squarely. "I watched over her," he corrected simply. "She didn't want to be alone. She trusts me."

"Why?"

Angel's face went blank as he thought that over. "I don't know why," he said slowly. "Because I love her and she can see that. Because I live for her. Because she loves me too. I certainly don't deserve her trust."

"Yes, I know," she said stiffly. "So... Nothing was going on in there?"

Angel looked at her intently and realized something in an instant. All of her fears over her daughter's life had come out in this one incident and she needed someone to hurt, to lash out at. "No," he denied calmly. "Even if something could have been, without the potential loss of my soul, I love her enough and have enough control to never ask that of her, for any reason."

Joyce nodded slowly, her eyes bright, and started to move away. He placed his hand on her arm and she looked at him. "I love your daughter," he said softly. "Do you realize how rare that is, true love? How impossible it is for the two of us? And yet it's here, and it's here to stay. Nothing could change that." He looked down to the items in his hands. "Buffy's probably cold now. I need to get--"

She interrupted him. "I believe you."

His eyes met hers for a long moment. "I can't tell you how grateful I am for that," he whispered.

She gave him a small smile and a small shove. "Now, go. To my daughter, and bring her here and cover her up and let her get some more sleep," she instructed, motherly nuances filling her tone.

Angel nodded compliantly and slipped the robe in the closet off its hanger. "With pleasure, Mrs. Summers," he agreed. With that, he was out of the room and her sight, leaving her to marvel at how quietly he moved, and something deeper and more important than that.

How much he loved her daughter.

The sun finally slipped below the horizon, bathing the earth in the dusky, glowing tones of twilight. Angel held Buffy as she fell into another fitful sleep. He gave an airless sigh of relief at the feeling that accompanied sundown, and held Buffy a little closer to him.

It seemed he couldn't hold her close enough.

Joyce knocked lightly on the door, not waiting for an answer before she poked her head in. Angel, self-conscious but not willing to move his arms from around Buffy, settled for nodding at her. She gave a small, tense smile and perched on the edge of the mattress.

"How is she?" she asked, careful not to disturb her daughter from healing sleep.

Angel's eyes dipped down to Buffy, his face softening as it did every time he looked at her. His voice was strained, and Buffy stirred but didn't wake when he spoke. "As well as could be expected, I think."

Joyce placed her hands on her knees. "It's strange," she mused softly, "It seems like this day has gone by so slowly, and yet faster than time ever has before. Am I making any sense?"

Angel lifted his head, resting his chin on top of Buffy's hair. His hand found the small of her back, and he stroked it soothingly. Thoughtfully, he replied, "Yes... I've been alive for so long now that the days usually melted together until I met Buffy. And then by days still went by quick, though they weren't meaningless as before. I had purpose because I knew her. So, in that sense, this day has reached its end too fast." He paused for a moment, treasuring the girl in his arms with reverence, then he went on. "But... To see her in this kind of pain... These have been the longest hours of my existence."

"Yes..." Joyce sounded distant when she answered a moment later.

Angel looked towards the shaded window; the blue light of the night sky was beginning to filter through the cracks on each side of the shade. His hands touched Buffy's arms lightly as Buffy began to shake in silence, the terror of her life chasing her in her dreams. She calmed, the familiar touch of him soothing her.

"Joyce?" His voice was hesitant.

"Um hmm?"

"I need to leave for a little while. Will you...?" he trailed off, unsure.

Joyce rolled her eyes heavenwards, exasperated. "I'm her mother. Of course I will. I always will." She paused for a moment, and then her voice became heavier than before, sad. "Will she be okay?"

Angel nodded slowly, gently releasing Buffy from his embrace and untangling from hers. "Yes, And I'll come back."

Buffy's eyes stayed closed, but a quiet sound was issued from her lips. "You'd better," she mumbled.

"Wait... Where are you guys going tonight? I thought... I thought that--" Willow started to say when she was interrupted by Oz. He took her hand, shaking his head briefly.

"We won't be gone for long, Baby. Just doing something that needs to be done," he explained vaguely.

Willow began to nod, but was cut off by Cordelia, who apparently wouldn't take that answer for face value. "What exactly needs to be done?"

Xander raked one hand through his hair, then flopped down next to her on the couch. "Research stuff. Finding out about Buffy's strength. Giles asked for our help, but he wants you two to stay away from it."

Willow's eyebrows knitted. "Why?"

Oz kissed her lightly, thinking. "It's a sensitive subject. We're also researching what..." his voice caught for a moment, "happened last night. We were hoping that you two could stop over at Buffy's for a while. Check up on her, talk to her."

Cordelia tilted her head, inspecting Xander, who squirmed suddenly under her gaze. "Okay," she agreed suddenly, understanding flitting quickly over her features. She turned to Willow. "We should."

Willow bit her lip, nodding. "Yeah. Do you... Do you think she'll want to see us?"

Cordelia shook her head. "Probably not. But she might need to, and that's what's important." She looked at Xander and Oz, who were poised uneasily in different places in her living room, and gave them a meaningful look. "We'll catch you guys later?"

Xander coughed and lifted his head. "Yeah. We shouldn't be there for more than a couple hours. I'll page you."

Cordelia stood, pulled up Willow with her. "Come on," she said briskly, heading for the garage. "We'll talk as we drive."

Willow turned confused eyes on the boys as Cordelia tugged her along. "I- Uh... You guys can let yourselves out?"

As soon as they were in the car and buckled, Willow turned to Cordelia. "*What* was that?"

Cordelia pursed her lips. "I'm not sure... They're up to something, though. I only have a vague idea of what it might be. I think I feel like Xander does on his best days." Her mouth lifted in a slight smile.

"Something like...?" Willow let the end of her question hang in the air. She hung tightly onto the seat of the car as Cordelia sped around a sharp corner.

"Think about it for a second, Willow. Right now, what could be going on?"

Willow's eyes got large, and she let a strangely satisfied smile wander over her face. "You mean that they're..."

"Hey, it's only my guess," Cordelia commented.

Willow nodded, and proceeded to hang on for dear life as Cordelia swerved to keep from hitting a mailbox that had somehow jumped in front of them. Her eyebrows knitted together in terror. For a second there, Cordelia had been driving on the sidewalk.

Xander and Oz walked quickly into Giles's office. They stopped and looked at Giles, who was on the phone, speaking rapidly in what sounded like French. He looked up and gestured for them to wait before saying something else and then placing the phone back in the cradle.

Xander lifted his eyebrows. "Well?"

"Old friend," Giles explained curtly. "I wanted a spell, a location spell. It's a bit complicated, but I think it should perhaps work."

Angel walked in, his long black duster floating on the air behind him. He stopped, his eyes dark with worry and pain and fear for the soul of the woman he loved. Placing his palms flat on the desk, he looked Giles in the eye and smiled predatorily. "I like the idea. But there's an easier way if you'd like to hear it."

Giles frowned, studying the vampire. After a tense moment, he leaned forward.

His voice was low. "Tell me."

Joyce answered the knocking at the door, smiling in relief when she saw Willow and Cordelia standing there. "My daughter's always been a good actress," she said without preamble. "But she says she's fine and feels better, and it's obvious she doesn't. She's insisting on going to school tomorrow. Maybe you two can convince her otherwise."

Willow bit her lip and Cordelia looked worried as they took off their coats and handed them to Buffy's mother. She took them and hung them on the coat rack, turning back to her daughter's friends. After a moment of tense silence, Willow spoke up.

"We'll do what we can, Mrs. Summers," she said softly, "But you know Buffy..."

"She's as stubborn as someone who's been told to cut up your credit card," Cordelia supplied helpfully. At the looks she got, she continued, "What? I'm not saying that's ever happened to *me*. It's just an expression!"

Joyce sighed. "Yes, I know. Thanks, girls. Go on up."

They mounted the stairs quietly, the feeling of trepidation taking over. Shoving Buffy's door open after a quick knock, Willow and Cordelia stepped inside. Buffy lay curled up in a ball, underneath her covers, and their eyes widened as they watched her stir from sleep.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Willow started. "Your mom didn't tell us you were sleeping."

Buffy gave a great cat yawn and looked at them with a little smile, gesturing for them to sit on the bed. "It's okay. I've sort of been wandering in and out. I'm still tired from... I'm still tired."

Cordelia tucked the hair that was falling in her eyes behind her ears, looking at Buffy with an unusual Cordelia expression: care. "How are you?" she asked cautiously.

Buffy let out a strained laugh. "Fine. Why do I feel like I'm going to be asked that for the rest of my life?"

"Well," Willow said slowly, "If you look like you do now with everyone, you might be right. You don't look fine, not at all. What can we do?"

Buffy's eyes took on a dangerous glint. "Nothing," she snapped. "Nothing. No one can do anything at all. Do you understand? That's why I just want to get past it. Because *nothing* can be done for me. I don't know why you all are so fucking concerned all of the sudden!" Her fingers clawed viciously at her bedspread.

Cordelia maintained a steady, even expression, but it was plain that Willow was holding back tears. "I'm sorry..."

Buffy twirled some hair around her finger and yanked on it a little bit. She sighed. "Don't be sorry, Willow," she said wearily. "I shouldn't have blown up over nothing. But can't you try to... I don't know."

Cordelia leaned forward. "Buffy. If you didn't want support, if you wanted to act like it had never happened, why did you tell all of us? Hmm?"

Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Thoughtfully, she looked up at the ceiling and then back at Cordelia. "It happened fast. First thing I knew, Giles was picking me up and he asked me what happened. Then you came. I thought you were my friend, Cordy."

Cordelia looked down at the Slayer's hands; They were trembling. "I am," she said carefully, "But I just know what it's like to... Be helpless. It might not be in the exact way, but everyone else does too. And I know that you need something right now, something that we can't give you unless you let us. If you shut everyone out, you're going to feel this way forever."

"I don't shut out Angel," Buffy mumbled under her breath.

Willow's eyes lightened. "That's... something! Right?" She looked pleadingly at Cordelia, who gave a short nod. "We're just here for you, Buffy, if you ever do decide that you need us."

Buffy let out a shaky breath. "I'll keep that in mind."

Giles rammed his fist into the younger man's stomach as Angel held him up. Willy lurched forward, gasping, and let his head drop down to his chest. "Man," he muttered, huffing, "I thought you were the good guys."

"We are," Giles growled, sending another rousing jab into Willy's midsection. "Which is why we're here. We'd appreciate any information you could give us." His eyes glittered angrily and he balled up his hand into a fist to hit Willy again, but Angel laid his hand on Giles's shoulder, stilling him.

"Giles, he's human," he said quietly, ignoring the Watcher's glare. "And not the one you're angry at."

Xander looked uneasily at the door; It was locked, but who knew who would try to break in there? Hearing Angel's voice, his head lifted and his eyes snapped viciously. "This coming from someone who says he loves her?"

Angel flinched and then sent a withering look to the boy. "Don't you dare, Xander. Not now. If Giles puts him in a coma, we have no hope of getting the information we want. I'm as prepared as you are to do some damage-- even more prepared. So don't give me your lectures on how much I do or don't love Buffy." He kept his words low, dangerous, and Xander closed his mouth with an audible click.

Willy lifted his head, exhausted. "Yeah, what Angel said. Angel's my man, aren't ya?"

The men surrounding him spoke in unison. "Shut up, Willy."

Giles's fingers slid through the bartender's hair and he yanked his head back up as it drooped down. "We could make you quiet if you like," he offered, almost hopefully.

Willy's eyes widened.

"No, ah, I mean," he stuttered, looking for the right words. "Okay, man, let go of the hair and I'll tell everything I know."

Giles studied him for a moment and then released his grasp. Willy righted himself, coughing, and then gestured to a small booth near the back of the bar. The group followed him to it and sat uncomfortably around him, trapping him in, should he decide to try to escape. He eyed each of them warily and then finally nodded.

"You guys know I'm always happy to help the noble efforts of my favorite bad guy fighting gang," he started, "So why you gotta come in here and start beating me up? I didn't even refuse you information yet."

The men stared at him. "More effective that way," Oz supplied.

Willy gave a short nod and then glanced around the table. "So, I guess you guys are workin' on what I heard last night."

Angel arched his eyebrows. "Which was?"

"Some guys took the girl in an alley not far from here, I'm sure you know about that, fighting evil like you guys do. They came in, after, around midnight or so, crowin' bout their success. I thought it sounded sort of fishy, but that's me. So I poured them a coupla drinks, even though it was obvious they were already loaded-- because who am I to judge, and anyway, they might not have been legally drunk, which is when I gotta stop-- and they started telling everyone what happened."

Giles jolted in his chair. "They told *vampires* about her?" he asked hoarsely.

Willy glanced at him. "Hey, I don't get on the case about your clientele. Or wouldn't, if you had some other than these kids."

Angel could feel the blood starting to boil underneath his skin; acid fire. He fought to keep his human visage and to stay in control of his soul.

Xander was trembling with something that he couldn't describe-- Fear, fury, hatred, all rolled into one confusing mass of emotions. "You know who Buffy is, who we all are, and you let the guys go on talking about what those fucking assholes did to her?!" He slammed his hand down against the table.

Willy jumped in his seat, noticing the increase of hostility towards him. Suddenly his eyes became huge, and he locked them on Xander's face. "It was the Slayer? The Slayer it happened to? You guys are gonna kick the shit out of me, aren't you?"

"I can tell you we're thinking about it," Angel muttered.

"Listen, guys, they didn't name names. All they really said was that she was little and blond, and weaker than a kitten." His lip turned up in a sneer, thinking back. "And I did throw them out. No matter what anybody's gonna say about me, I won't stand for that kind of talk, that kind of bragging in this bar. I was an inch away from callin' the cops." After a second, he deflated. "Except, you know, all the vamps..."

"So what else do you know?" Oz spoke up with.

Willy's eyebrows knitted together. "What else?"

He nodded, tipping his head back and smelling the air. "There's something... I know there is, I can feel it."

Angel nodded. "I can to. Holding out on us, Willy? Because you know, I just might be able to find it in my soul to hurt you really badly, which might make me feel really good, if you don't start talking soon."

Willy started to shake his head and the stopped, nodding slowly. "Yeah... They travel. I don't remember what kind of jobs they have, maybe construction workers or something-- that's what they looked like, at least-- but they said that they don't come through town much. Hardly at all, but they do come. If that helps any."

Giles let out a long breath, which he didn't know he had been holding. He lifted himself out of the seat and darted his eyes around. "Yes, I do think it does," he muttered grudgingly. The other men followed his lead and also rose from their seats. Xander stretched and Oz looked at the clock as Angel continued to stare at the sleazy bartender. Giles continued, "I'd think it'd be best if you weren't to tell anyone about what you learned tonight," he said menacingly. Willy heard the unspoken threat and quickly nodded his compliance.

They all started for the door. Willy looked after them uneasily. "Uh. Will you guys be back?"

Angel lifted his hand in a careless wave as he disappeared out the door after Oz and Giles. Xander, following quickly, turned to face Willy for a second. He grinned slowly, a smile of dark and angry promises. "I think that means yes."

Buffy bolted upright in bed, the sweat making her hair cling to the sides of her face. She looked around for a moment, panicked, and then relaxed.

< It was a nightmare. A nightmare. > She reached up to brush some of the hair out of her eyes and noticed a large, black bruise on the tender flesh of her arm. She sagged in bed, tears filling her eyes. < A living nightmare.>

Noticing the sunlight filtering through the edges of the shades, she yawned and slowly got out from under the covers, ignoring the throbbing pain that jolted in her head and throughout her body. She walked over to her closet and began looking through her clothes, drawing her lip up in disgust at what she found there.

Finally, in the back, she saw what she was looking for. She quickly pulled out the large gray sweatshirt and slipped it on, and then the faded blue jeans. She threw her hair up in a ponytail quickly, not bothering to brush it. A glance at the clock told her that she was twenty minutes late. Silently, she cursed at her mother for wanting her to stay home from school.

Snatching up her book bag in a hurry, she noticed an envelope lying on top, her name in Angel's handwriting. Buffy tore it open quickly.

~Buffy, I came back, but didn't have the heart to wake you. You were finally sleeping peacefully, and I can only thank God that He gave you that rest. I know you well enough not to demand that you stay home, though I wish you would, but I will ask you to call me or come over if you need anything. And remember that I love you. Love, Angel.~

Buffy sniffed once and rubbed at her eyes impatiently. No time for tears. She had to get to school.

Giles raked back his hair and sat up, realizing that he'd fallen asleep. He looked up to meet Buffy's amused face. "And you always get mad at me for sleeping through school," she tried to joke.

Giles stifled a yawn and looked intently at her. "Why are you here today?"

She bristled. "Because I don't feel like being home and moping. And, besides, I'm already healing. I'm getting my strength back, I can feel it." She bit her lip and then continued. "It feels... nice."

"Good," he said softly.

She gave a small nod and then turned to leave for her first class. At the door, she paused and looked back at him. Giles raised his eyebrows in question. "By the way... Did you ever find out the reason that I lost my strength?" she asked.

Giles opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Buffy looked closely at him and then stepped further inside the office, shutting the door behind her. "You do know something. Why didn't you tell me? When did you find out?"

He looked at his hands. "I've known all along," he whispered at length.

Her mouth was suddenly dry. Clutching the books to her chest, she walked towards him and looked down at his ashamed face. "What do you mean?"

Giles stood and took off his glasses, cleaning them. He began to pace, his words barely audible. "Whenever a Slayer reaches her eighteenth birthday, if she does, she loses her powers for three days and three nights. She is then tested to see if she has the will, drive, and mind needed in a Slayer. It has been this way since the beginning of time. The Watcher's Council picks a vampire for her to face and, upon killing him, they give her a free choice-- to remain a Slayer or not. If she chooses to relieve her duties, her power is gone indefinitely, another is called and she lives a normal life. If not, she is the Slayer as long as she lives." He stopped walking and looked at her, regret written across his face.

"You are allowed to choose. Though the test was not completed, my superior has agreed with me that it is no longer necessary." His eyes dipped from her shocked face and he rushed on. "Buffy, you must understand that if I had known this was going to happen, I would have ignored the Council's rules and would have told you. As it was, I was having trouble not saying anything."

When he looked back up, large, silver tears were sliding down her cheeks. Buffy stared at him, stunned. Her throat worked in silence and finally her face crumpled. Giles started for her but stopped when she turned away. A moment of silence passed.

And then she fled the room.

The stares people were giving unnerved her. Buffy shrugged it off, running through school. Some random boys whistled at her flight from whatever it was she was running from, and the sound made her cry harder. She didn't want attention. She didn't want boys to notice her, not anymore. She didn't want anything.

Except to be in the one place she would feel safe.

Giles stared after her as she ran from him. From everything, he supposed. He wondered dimly if he should have told her the truth, or if it would have been better to conceal this one piece of information, just one time. Would she have been more suited to not knowing?

He sat back down at his desk and placed his head in his hands, the tears coming freely. Too much sobbing, too much knowledge, too much of everything. It hurt to know, and it hurt to be the one who told her. It hurt to betray her.

A palm on his shoulder made him flinch, but he didn't shy away from the touch. Xander spoke softly. "She knows you knew?"

Giles only nodded.

"I saw her, running away from school. I tried to talk to her, but she was past hearing anything. It's going to be okay, Giles. It's not your fault," he whispered.

Giles looked up, his face haggard and traumatized. "It *is* my fault, Xander. Had I told her, had I let her know what was happening to that body, none of this would have happened. Don't you see it? Can't you see?"

Xander shook his head. "Hey, listen. This is a big blow to everyone, but maybe especially to you, discounting Angel like I always do. I guess it's... normal that you're blaming yourself, but that's really not gonna help anything, you know? You just have to-- We just have to all find a way past this. Right now, Buffy's going to a place where she's past everything. Maybe you need to go find her there."

Giles locked eyes with the boy and slowly nodded. He stood back up. "Perhaps I should."

"Okay." Xander gave a slight smile and Giles returned it, marveling at how, though he was certainly not easy on the boy, Xander always managed to come through in the end.

"And Xander?"

"Yeah?" Xander looked at him quizzically.

"Thank you."

She didn't bother knocking on the door. Opening the heavy cement barely winded her and she smiled sadly. Her tears had dried on her cheeks, but inside it was different. Inside, she would always be crying, always be broken. Silently, Buffy crept into Angel's room and walked over to the bed, looking down at him.

His eyes fluttered open and caught hers. After a moment, he opened his arms and Buffy crawled into bed beside him, settling into his embrace. His arms were cool, strong. Buffy wound her hands around his back and rested them on his shoulders. He kissed her temple. "Why did you wake up?" she whispered.

"I smelled you. It's okay. I was dreaming about this anyway." A small smile lifted his mouth and Buffy looked at him with tears brimming her eyes. His smile vanished. "What happened?"

She fell apart, hugging him fiercely. "Giles," she sobbed into his chest, "He... He..."

Angel was alarmed. "Buffy, tell me," he prodded gently.

"He knew," she choked. "He knew that I was going to lose my strength and he didn't tell me. He... I don't want to blame him, I don't. I lo- love Giles. But he *knew* and I can't stop thinking that... It... It wouldn't have happened. If he had told me. If I had known enough to not walk home alone."

Angel's eyes glittered darkly, painfully. "He didn't know, Buffy, what would happen. Dammit, I should have walked you home, no matter what you said. I should have been there..."

Her head jerked up. "No, not you. It's not your fault. Please." Her gaze, moist and terrified, pleaded with him.

Angel looked down at her, nestled in his arms, and felt a rush of love. Something stronger than ever before ran through his blood and he tightened his hold on her. "If it's not my fault because I didn't walk you home, why is it Giles's fault because he didn't tell you?" he asked softly. "It's their fault, theirs. Not yours, Buffy. Not Giles's."

"Not yours," she said, agreeing with him silently. Her next word hissed. "Them."

Their mouths met tenderly, brushing the sadness away for one fleeting moment. His hand rubbed her back soothingly as the kiss deepened and Buffy smiled against his mouth. < He tastes different than they did....>

She broke away with a horrified moan.

"Buffy?"

"Just.... hold me?" It was a question, though Angel didn't know why she would ever doubt something like that. He nodded. "And make the thoughts go away."

Angel lifted the bedspread up to cover her too. Resting his chin on the top of her hair, he nodded again and held her closer. "I'll do my best."

Giles ignored the thought that he was entering a place where he didn't have permission to, a place where, under most circumstances, he didn't want to be and wasn't welcome. Shoving that small voice inside his head away, he walked through the drafty mansion, keeping his eyes peeled for Buffy.

At length, he walked into Angel's room and stopped mid-stride.

For a long moment, he stared at Buffy, wrapped comfortably in Angel's arms, sleeping. Her hair was spread across both her face and Angel's, and littered the pillow with gold. A sudden grin lifted his features as he noticed Buffy's smile; Content, peaceful, satisfied.

Angel's eyes opened and Giles took a step back, startled. But the vampire merely gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head as his eyes gestured for Giles to take the chair positioned on Buffy's side of the bed. Giles nodded in thanks and sat. Angel closed his eyes again, pleased, and ran his fingers through Buffy's hair. Giles sat back as his eyes drifted closed.

And silence reigned.

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