The young man ignored Giles, his entire focus being on shaking his laptop battery. He paused, sniffed and with a frown pushed his glasses up on his nose.

"May I help.."

"You don't happen to sell batteries, do you?"

Giles blinked twice and made a faint gesture around the shop. "Uh... no. I retail in magic supplies."

"I think my battery died and that's not good because I got all my appointments on there." With a curl of his lip and a second sniff he added. "And I just got it this morning. What gives?"

"I'm sorry." Giles commented with a touch of insincerity. "Perhaps you should try the computer shop four doors down."

"Naaa..." The stranger countered with a shake of his head and another poke at his glasses. "..I'm sure this is the place. I'm looking for a guy named...." He wrinkled his brow in thought. "... named, something really weird with a last name that begins with 'G'."

"I'm Rupert Giles."

"Yeah, that was it.!" The man shouted. "So let's go!"

Rupert arched an eyebrow. "Go? Go where?"

"Well that depends on how you've lived your life." The man shoved the dead battery into his pocket and pointed to the door. "You see, I don't decide that. I just show you to the portal and make sure you're on your way." He held out his hand to Rupert. "I'm Donald Death and it's time for you to go. So take my hand and we're out'ta here, dude. Come on, it'll be fun."

"Donald...." Rupert got the first name out before a spasm of snorting chuckles overtook him. This had to be a practical joke.

"It ain't funny, man."

Giles took his glasses off to wipe his eyes. "Oh yes, of course. Not funny. Not at all funny. (snort) It's just I never expected for Death to appear wearing a lime green button down shirt."

Donald crossed his arms. "You don't like my shirt?"

"Oh, I didn't say that." Rupert said with motion toward the man's lack of fashion sense. "It matches those olive pants quite nicely." He inhaled, taking a few seconds to composed himself. "Like I said, it's just that... oh well. Very good. Go on back to whomever sent you here and tell them that I needed a good laugh. And be sure to thank them for..."

"I'm Donald DEATH! And you better not laugh at me!"

This proclamation only made Rupert chuckle harder, but only for a short five seconds. Donald whirled around and pointed toward a pair of pigeons winging their way past the shop window.

They dropped from the sky, graveyard dead.

He then came back around and pointed at a potted plant at Rupert's elbow.

In a heartbeat it wilted, went brown and with an audible "crackle" its leaves fell in a dry flurry.

Death turned toward Giles and held up his index finger, blowing on the tip as if it was a smoking gun.

Giles froze, the mirth drained from him replaced by the terrible reality screaming in his brain. "Oh... my.. God! This 'is' Death."

"Now buddy, it's your turn! Because nobody can escape from Donald DEATH! That's the rules!" The entity proclaimed giving his finger a fling in the air to punctuate his words.

Which made him knock his own glasses off, sending them in a spinning arc to the floor. "Ah.. crap!" Donald grumbled as one half of his glasses went North went the other half went South. He bent down, retrieved them from the tile and eyed the cleanly split nose bridge. "Nuts. I thought I had it glued better than that. You don't happen to have any electrical tape... do... you?" Death's voice faded out with the sound of the slamming back door.

"Oh great." Donald sighed to the empty room. "Why couldn't he just cooperate?"

******

Willow jumped halfway out of her skin as Giles made a screeching stop at the curb. Before she could get the first word out Rupert threw his car into park, leaped out and began an animated barrage of instructions.

"Find Buffy and tell her to meet me at the coffee shop downtown in one hour. No, make it two. No, on second thought, have her wait there for my call. Then find Anya and tell her not to go to the magic shop. She must stay away from there and that goes for all of you. Finally, I need you to start researching the Grim Reaper and any other personification of Death." He paused for a breath.

"Hi Giles." Willow butted in. "What's..."

"Death." Rupert flatly stated. "Death is at the shop waiting on me."

"Huh?"

"It's not that I deny my mortality. Without a doubt, our.. our.. final fate is something we will all face. I fully accept that I might die.. 'should' die... 'will' die in the fight, with a sword in my hand, valiant to the last. That's the correct way. The hoped for good death. Not like this... I refuse to simply drop dead at my desk surrounded by mundane paperwork." He set his jaw. "I refuse!"

Willow gave her head a shake. "Are you saying that.."

Rupert's voice was a touch too high. "I'm saying what I just told you! Death, The Grim Reaper just came for me and I am not going!" His head pivoted around to scan the area. "Now listen, this Spirit is wearing a lime green shirt, olive trousers that are a few inches too short, thick dark rimmed glasses, white socks and black wingtips. He's carrying a laptop computer and bemoaning his dead battery. If you see him stay away."

"Death dresses like a geek?" Willow questioned. "I thought he wore a long black, hooded robe and carried a scythe."

"So did I." Rupert admitted running his hand back through his hair. "But that is neither here nor there."

"What I mean is, are you sure this is really Death?"

"I felt the beginning of the end." Giles shut his eyes for a long exhale. "As soon as he extended his hand to me my life began to flash. All in a split second, one last recounting. It was as if my soul wanted to fly out of my body." His eyes slammed open. "Soul.. I have a soul. All he has to do is take my hand and my essence flies."

"He's scared." Willow thought. "Whoa, Giles scared? Impossible." She took a step to his side and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll beat this one. Let me find Buffy and..."

"Hey dude! You shouldn't have took off like that."

Willow blinked back her amazement at the figure trotting up the sidewalk. "Is that...?"

"Yes." Rupert answered her mid-question. "Run Willow. Get away, now!"

"Naaaa..." Donald puffed, coming to a stop beside them. "She's probably not on my list, let me check. What's your name?"

"W-w-illow Rosenberg."

"Don't speak to him, Willow. Just run!"

Death laid his laptop down on the stone fence bordering the sidewalk and opened the lid. "Got a new battery. Should have picked up two since I've got the company credit card." The tip of his tongue appeared as he hit a couple of keys bringing up Willow's file. "Nope.. she's safe. She's got another 36 years then she and her old man and two sound techs all go in a terrible accident at the garlic festival in Gilroy. Looks like she and her hubby had just been crowned 'Grandpa & Grandma Garlic' and this one guy plugs the mic into a 440..."

Willow had backed away a dozen steps and was just ready to run when the information hit her ears. She moved between Giles and Death and crossed her arms. "So you can't hurt me?"

Donald pushed his glasses back up. "I don't 'hurt' people. When it's time, it's time and..." He finished the statement with a shrug and tapped a couple of more keys. "Like your friend here, see? Here's his timeline... oh no, not again!" Death picked up his laptop and began to shake it. "Come on! That's a new battery!"

The famous resolve face plastered itself on Willow's features. "You're not really the 'real' Death!"

"I am too!"

"No you're not!"

"Am too!" Donald yelled back, waving his dead laptop.

"Okay.. if you're the 'real' Death..." Willow countered. "How and when did my.. my... Great Uncle Bernie die?"

"Willll-oow..." Giles hissed, placing his hands on Willow's shoulders trying to pull her back out of Death's face.

Donald sniffed, fiddled with his glasses and looked away. Giles took note of the hedging motions. "Answer the lady." He ordered.

"Uh.. uh.... your Great Uncle Bernie?"

Willow gave her head a sharp nod. "Uh-huh! When and how!"

"Uh... well... uh.. there's a lot of old guys named Bernie. Let me think." Death squeaked in a very un-deadly manner. "Yeah, I remember him. He.. uh... he..."

"I knew it!" Willow crowed, pushing Rupert's hands off her shoulders. "You're NOT Death! The real death would have known that my great-uncle Bernie is still alive!"

Donald hung his head. "Well, I am too Death... sorta. At least until sundown I've got this job."

Rupert peered over his glasses at the suddenly deflated figure. "Are you saying that you're 'interim' Death?"

"I've always been Death.. but usually I take care of... uh..." His voice faded out to a mumble.

"Speak up!" Giles barked.

Mumble

Willow crossed her arms. "We can't hear you."

"Pigeons."

"Are you saying that we are standing in the presence of the "Angel of 'Pigeon' Death?" Giles asked with as much of a deadpan as he could possibly muster.

Donald drew himself up to his full 5'7" height. "Yeah! And you better remember one thing, I'm Donald Death and if it wasn't for me you would be up to your butt in pigeons and pigeon poop!"

"I don't know which is more unsettling revelation..." Rupert began, taking his glasses off to clean them. "...that there is a Grim Reaper of Pigeons or the fact that this incarnation was sent to take me." He abruptly replaced his glasses and straightened his jacket. "I don't know if you have noticed, but I am not a pigeon."

"Doesn't matter! Today they put me in charge of the G's and I'm really running behind so let's get this done." Death tossed his thumb toward the car. "And I'll even be generous. When I was zoning in on you I heard you complaining that you didn't want to die at your store like some wimp, so how about we drive off a cliff?"

"No." Rupert dryly answered. "Not an option."

"You can't have him." Willow added with a stomp of her foot. "I won't let you, so you just go back to.. to.. sucking the life out of poor little pigeons!"

Rupert banished the smile that flickered across his lips. "Willow, I think it would be best if you didn't confront Donald Death."

But Willow didn't stop. "I mean, look at you. Where's your black robe and hourglass and scroll and..."

"I don't have a robe, I wear a Timex and welcome to the 21st century, nobody uses scrolls anymore." Donald shot back. "Well at least I'm not using them anymore. See, I found this laptop this morning and I'm never going back to a scroll. Can you imagine trying to keep track of all the pigeons in the world with a handwritten list? Talk about a real pain in the butt!" He roughly shoved his spectacles back up on his nose, tweaking the tape fix and sending each half of the glasses into an odd angle. "And not just pigeons, I have to take care of doves too!"

"So again I ask, why are you here for 'me'?" Rupert interjected.

Donald busied himself with straightening his glasses. "Doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!" Willow disagreed in tandem with Rupert's, "I beg to differ."

Donald sat down on the stone fence. "Well, it wasn't my fault. I didn't know." He wrinkled up his face into a gloomy pout and averted his gaze. "You see, the office ladies are the ones that always print out the names onto the scrolls but this morning they were on some extended Longaberger Basket coffee break thing and I couldn't sit around waiting on them. So I kinda found this laptop on the office manager's desk and thought 'what the heck, I can do this myself'."

Both humans blinked.

"So I started to download my the day's pigeon list and this e-mail from Melissa appeared saying that she loved me more than Teletubbies and that she also had this great joke that would make me rich if I opened the attachment and sent it to ten people within a hour after I made a wish. How was I suppose to know that it had some virus in it?" Death absentmindedly scratched his chin. "It sorta crashed the whole system. We lost six hours of collecting before the network came back online and was Big D ever honked off."

"Big D?" Giles asked, unsure if he really wanted any clarification.

"You know, Big D. The guy with the robe." Donald slid off the wall and waved his hand toward the pair. "The guy that takes care of humans. He was so far behind that he gave me the 'G' list and until sundown to get through it." He patted his laptop. "So I put the list on here and went to work. And you're the first 'G', so let's go."

"No he's not." Willow said with a grin. "His name begins with 'J'."

Donald looked crestfallen. "Oh nooo. You mean?"

Rupert took up the deception. "Yes, you shouldn't be here. I'm obviously on.. uh, 'Big D's' roster and you wouldn't want to risk his anger by taking one of his appointments. So we'll be off now." He quickly ushered Willow into the passenger seat of the car then just as rapidly took his place in the driver's seat. He tossed the car into drive and without another word sped away as Willow waved goodbye to the perplexed Reaper of Pigeons.

"Thank you, Willow. That was quick thinking."

"You're welcome." She said settling back into her seat. "I couldn't let.. uh. I mean we couldn't let this guy take you." A blush reddened her cheeks. "No.. 'we' couldn't. I meant 'we' when I said 'I'. We all have to keep you around for a long time because you never know what's going to happen and.. and.. this was a close one, huh?"

Giles allowed himself a sidelong glance at his passenger. "Yes, I believe it was a 'close one'."

Willow looked at her lap. "There's kind of a lesson in it. If this Spirit wasn't such of a dufus you would have.. you know... died this morning." She shivered a bit. "And... and... nobody would have been able to tell you anything again."

"We never know if this day or this hour will be our last, a lesson worth remembering." He said softly. "There is a danger in putting things off because... because..." Rupert pulled the car over to the curb and slid the gear into 'park'. "I'm dropping you off here. Donald is not the wisest adversary we have faced but I'm sure he will soon discover the trickery."

"Because we might not ever see the person again to tell them what we want to tell them."

Rupert gripped the steering wheel. "T-that's the gist of it. We'll discuss that... ah.. later. Please, Willow you're not safe with me. He has my 'number' so to speak, and..."

She reached over and laid her hand on his. "There might not be a 'later'. And I'm not leaving you because I..." Her gaze searched out his eyes to lock in for a second. Willow took a deep breath, hesitated, then threw caution to the wind and kissed him.

For the first second Giles could do nothing but sit in shocked amaze. His breath, movement, logic and senses deserted him. No, not deserted but instead his being was smothered by the honey sweetness of her honest kiss. A kiss that finished her sentence like no declaration which could be said in Heaven or on Earth.

Willow felt the hesitation and with it a self-conscious embarrassment arose within her heart. In a flash this doubt began to pass judgment, telling her she was a total fool. With apologies forming on her lips she tried to pull away. But not the first word was uttered for Rupert's hand found the curve of her shoulder and lightly held her as he returned her kiss with the passion of a man who fondest wish had finally come true.

The car bounced as a figure plopped down on the hood.

"All right... break it up." Death held his hands in the air, clapping them together over his head. "Whoo-hoo! Hand check!"

Giles pulled back a bit and stroked Willow's cheek. "We have 'company'." He glanced toward Donald then covertly turned forward in his seat and put his hand on the gearshift. Willow scooted away and slyly fastened her seatbelt.

Why they bothered being stealthy is anyone's guess because Death was busying himself with inserting a new battery into his laptop. "Got another one. Well, I really got three more. Accounting is going to be all over me when the bill comes, but I don't care. How can they expect me to do my job without the..."

Simultaneously Rupert hit the gas and threw the car into reverse.

The car lurched backward all of ten inches and then politely died.

Donald slid forward all of ten inches, teetered on the edge of the hood long enough to clasp the laptop to his chest then unceremoniously completed his fall to the pavement.

Twice Rupert hit the ignition key and twice he was rewarded with the sound of a dead battery.

(Click)

"Damn!"

(Click!)

"You Sod!"

Donald pulled himself to his feet and with a heavy sigh came around to the driver's door.

"GILES! LOOK OUT!"

Willow's screamed warning came too late for Donald had reached in to envelope Rupert's left hand with the cold touch of Death.

As the memories of his life again replayed, Giles felt a chill race up his arm to his shoulder and fly toward his quivering heart.

Then a darkness began to close. He felt Willow fall across him, saw through the encroaching tunnel vision her small hand trying desperately to pry Death's hold away from him.

And through it all cut the final words "I'm sorry, but it's time for you to... EEEEEPPPP!!!

"Eeeep?"

The hand of Death vanished. The world came back into focus. His dying brain came alive with the wonder of it all. Willow had done it! Yes! He reached out for her, determined to take this second chance at life. Wait, she's saying something. Pointing.. look?

Rupert shook his head to speed up the regaining of his dulled senses. He grimaced, trying desperately to fathom why she looked terrified and why she was pulling at his arm in a frantic attempt to move him away from the driver's window.

"WHAT is going on here?!"

The deep voice resonated as if it came from the lowest depth of the pit.

"Uh.. Uh... Hi Big D. Uh.. I mean, Boss. I mean Sir." Donald squawked as he hung two feet off the ground suspended by his Master's grip on his shirt collar.

The Grim Reaper hoisted his underling a foot higher into the air and brought him face to faceless void. "I asked you a question."

"Well, I-I-I'm taking the G's, like you asked, Sir."

"Oh really?"

Giles and Willow winced at the dripping sarcasm in the tone. Unfortunately Donald didn't. The Taker of Pigeons nodded and pointed at Giles. "This guy's a 'G', Rupert Giles, first one on my list."

"I know Rupert Giles is the first one on your list!" The Reaper roared, dropping Donald into a heap. The Spirit reached into his bottomless pocket, pulled out a parchment scroll and waved it in Donald's direction. "I've already taken him along with all the others because you have NOT DONE ANYTHING!"

Donald scrambled to his feet and stared at Giles. "No, Boss.. uh.. Sir. He's right here. I was just getting ready to show him the portal and then you kinda stopped me."

Instinctively Willow and Rupert wrapped their arms around each other as The Grim Reaper paced toward the car, bony fingers winding the scroll into a tight roll. The Reaper paused and then smacked Donald up one side of the head with the parchment list. "Rupert Giles, age 89 of Sunnyvale Illinois, you idiot!"

"Huh?" Donald quizzed, rubbing his head. "You mean.. this.. this is the wrong guy?" He adjusted his glasses and peered at Rupert.

Rupert unwound Willow's fingers from his shirt and leaned forward. "You thought I was 89!"

"Well, it was a honest mistake, you could have just been well preserved. You know I couldn't access the data with that laptop battery going dead on me every five minutes."

"You FOOL!" The Grim Reaper bellowed. "We can't use anything battery powered! Batteries die in our presence!" Again Donald left the ground via his shirt collar. With each word The Grim Reaper jabbed a fingernail into the unfortunate's chest. "Destroy our network! Fail in your assignment! Ignore protocol! You have displeased me for the last time! Consider yourself demoted back to houseplants!"

Donald's face crumbled into anguish. "H-houseplant! Nooooooo! Not that! I promise! I'll do better! Please, let me stay with m-my pigeons! They need me!"

"I have SPOKEN!" The Grim Reaper proclaimed giving Donald a toss as if he was yesterday's newspaper. The entity raised his palms and began to fade back to his home in eternity.

Rupert scrambled out of the car. "Wait! Sir! May I be so bold as to speak with you?"

The Reaper paused and considered the human's audacity. Finally, it made a faint motion for Giles to continue.

Rupert cleared his throat, wondering if he had completely lost his mind. "Sir, I ask you to reconsider this punishment. This Spirit.. is.. is.. uh.. he.." He swept his hand toward the forlorn figure of Donald Death. "... he has a good heart. I know that because he tried to make it easier on me by showing himself. I'm sure that is not the rule."

"I always let my pigeons see me. Tell them that it's time to go to a better place." Donald sniffed.

As the seconds ticked by The Grim Reaper's stance softened a tad. Finally, the shrouded figure nodded. "Very well. Let it never be said that Death cannot be merciful."

Then it was gone.

"Oh thank you, man!" Donald shouted, spinning around to give Rupert a hug causing the human to jump back from the forthcoming embrace. The Pigeon Reaper pouted at Rupert's nervous body language then nodded in understanding. "Oh... guess you're not a touchy kinda guy, huh? Well, I gotta get moving. Work to do, ya know." He grinned and trotted over to the front of the car to retrieve his laptop. Then with a flourish he waved and headed down the sidewalk.

Willow came over to Rupert's side and slid her hand into his. "That was really brave." She paused and frowned. "And kind of.. well, crazy." Her frown vanished and she snuggled closer to him. "Promise me you won't ever do that again?"

"I promise." He answered, bending down to seal his vow with a kiss. Their lips had barely brushed together when...

"Hey guys! Cool it for a second I got something for you."

They pulled apart and turned toward Donald who was inserting yet another battery. "It's only gonna be good for a second, but let's see if I can do this." He poked his glasses up on his nose and typed in a name. "Okay... got it. I just wanted to tell you both, you know that Garlic festival thing in 2037?"

Rupert and Willow nodded.

Donald closed the lid and flashed them a broad smile. "If you two write yourselves a note and don't enter the contest, you'll both have more than 36 years together."