***************************************

At eight a.m. on any other morning, the ringing of the doorbell would have woken her up. Today it merely jerked her out of a chilling reverie. Glad for the distraction, she slowly rose from her seat at the bedroom window. Dawn, normally a heavy sleeper, was already rubbing her eyes and swinging her legs out of Buffy’s bed. She smiled blearily at her sister and walked to the door.

Don’t!” Buffy said sharply. Dawn stopped, looked at her quizzically.

“It’s…don’t answer if you don’t know who it is,” Buffy finished lamely. “I’ll get it.”

“But, Buffy – are you sure you’re feeling –"

Her sister was already out of the bedroom.

Downstairs, the sun dappled her mother’s furniture and warmed the floorboards under her bare feet. Buffy found her heartbeat accelerating as the doorbell chimed again.

And then she was motionless, staring out the peephole in disbelief.

“Buffy?” came the muffled voice. “Are you there?”

She threw the door open.

“Giles.”

He stood, smiling down at her, eyes full of affection and acceptance. Something clenched tight inside her relaxed, and she crushed his rumpled form in her embrace. The smells of aftershave and travel wafted up to her. She was suddenly gasping and sobbing against his chest, words pouring out of her, and though a part of her suspected she wasn’t making much sense Giles seemed to understand.

A noise from the staircase made her pull away and smooth down Giles’ shirt, now damp from her tears and wrinkled where her fingers had grabbed on desperately.

“Good morning, Dawn,” he said. Her sister bounded down and wrapped Giles in another hug, her long arms circling him easily.

Somehow the three of them managed to move to the couch; Giles buffeted by a Summers on either side. His hand rested on Dawn’s knee as he handed Buffy a handkerchief. She unceremoniously blew her nose, but he only pulled her closer.

“Spike told you?” Dawn asked. She didn’t need to add specifics.

Giles nodded. “I left London immediately after speaking to him yesterday. He informed me of the most recent happenings.” He slanted a look at Dawn. “What you did was very brave, and very foolish.”

“I know,” Dawn replied proudly. Giles sighed.

“Is our resident vampire around? I believe what I have to say will be easier with –"

“He went back to his crypt,” Buffy said.

“Oh.” Giles’ eyebrows crept up in surprise. “I had thought – well, no matter I suppose. I –" he hesitated. Buffy and Dawn gazed up at him expectantly.

“I’m afraid I have some sad news. Terrible news.”

“Dawn, go upstairs,” Buffy ordered automatically. Dawn jumped up.

“No! Buffy, don’t make me! I’ve been around for everything, you can’t start treating me like a baby again –"

“It may be better if she remains, Buffy,” Giles interjected quietly. “It would…save me from another conversation I’m not keen to have.”

She looked from her sister’s indignant face to Giles’ drawn and lined one. “All right,” she relented.

Giles removed his glasses. Instead of cleaning them he laid them across his thigh and rubbed his face tiredly. “You – remember what occurred that night? At the Magic Box?”

Buffy nodded silently. Blood, fire, fear, blood, screaming, blood…

“You’ll be relieved to know that Xander and Willow have fully recovered. They – Xander will be very happy to learn that you’re…back.”

“What about Tara?” Dawn asked. Her question was full of such curiosity and eagerness that it was clear she had not truly contemplated all the possible answers to that question.

The ensuing silence, though, provided time enough for that.

“Giles?” Buffy’s voice was desperate, pleading.

“Tara – I’m afraid that Tara did not survive. She never left the hospital.”

For a long moment, Buffy could do nothing but sit numbly while the news washed over her, infected her, curdled the blood in her veins. Dimly she heard the start of Dawn’s now-familiar tears, and felt the sofa shift as Giles moved to comfort her. Outside Sunnydale came to life; cars and children and neighbors calling to each other as they walked dogs and pushed strollers.

But the only thing that penetrated her, made it through her chilled skin and slack muscles was the thought – Nothing will ever be the same again. Nothing, nothing, nothing will be the same.

Dawn’s howls rose and rent the air, and Giles’ hands reached for Buffy as she slid bonelessly off the cushion and onto the floor. She knelt there while Giles tugged at her shoulders, and she wondered if she could ever get deep enough into the ground so that she and Tara could switch places.

Part 15: Dark Impressions

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