A Bridge Between 


"I think that should do it. Is everyone ready?" Giles
asked as he placed the last of the weapons in the bag.

"Let's do it, "Buffy said eager to shift from the
inactivity of research to Slaying.

Everyone stood to leave, except Willow, who was slow
getting to her feet.

"Willow?" Giles asked.

"Hmm? I'm coming," she said in a small voice.

Giles frowned and set down the weapons bag. "You're
looking a little pale."

"I'm fine, just a bit of a cold, I guess."

He crossed the room and placed a hand on her forehead.
"You feel warm." He looked into her eyes and saw the
telltale haze of sickness. He smiled gently. "You go
home and rest."

"But-"

"No buts, we have the situation well in hand," he said
reassuringly. "You should go to bed, get some rest.
You can save the world tomorrow," he said giving her
shoulders a gentle squeeze.

"You gonna be okay, Wills?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah, just a little cold or something. You guys be
careful," Willow answered.

"No problemo," Xander said with a grin. "We'll be back
in two shakes of a demon's tale."

Giles sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just get some sleep."

Willow nodded and let out a small sigh. She was feeling
pretty icky, but she hated not being with them.

As the gang headed off to fight the big brewing evil
of the week, Willow slowly started her trek back to
the dorms.

*****

It was just after two in the morning when Giles
returned to his apartment. As usual, the demon had
been more difficult to defeat than they had expected.
But, also as usual, they had found a way.

He'd dropped Xander at home and left Buffy at her
mother's. The dorm was on the other side of town, and
Buffy was just as glad to sleep at home for once.

Giles started stripping off his clothes as soon as he
entered. It had been a long, exhausting battle, and he
wanted nothing more than a quick shower and a good
night's rest.

He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

*****

When he finally awoke, the next morning, he stretched
lazily as he looked at the bedside clock. Nearly
10:30am. He shook his head. He hadn't slept this late
in ages, but since it was Saturday and the big evil of
the week was chopped into little pieces, he could afford

to luxuriate.

He yawned and worked the kinks out of his left
shoulder. Donning his robe, he made his way downstairs
and let himself enjoy the slow pace of a well-earned
day off.

He put the kettle on and retrieved the paper.

Once his tea was ready, he sat back and leisurely read
the news.

His late morning quiet was interrupted as the phone
rang about half an hour later.

"Hello? -- Oh, good morning, Buffy.-- No. -- No,
that's fine. Have a good time.--- All right," he said
with a chuckle. "Goodbye."

Buffy was going to spend the day with her mother; it
had been too long since they'd had quality bonding
time.

Giles smiled to himself, looking forward to a day of
relaxation. He set his tea down on the counter and
noticed that the red light on his answering machine
was flashing.

He pushed the button and went to put some more bread
in the toaster.

"Beep. Hello, this message is for Rupert Giles. I'm
Nurse Bradford at Sunnydale Memorial Hospital."

Giles set down the bread and crossed back to the
counter. He could feel his heart catch at the word
hospital. His breathing increased as he clenched his
jaw, steeling himself.

"I'm calling on behalf of Willow Rosenberg. She was
admitted about half an hour ago."

"Willow?" he whispered, his chest tightening as he
gripped the counter.

"Her health insurance listed you as the person to call
in case of emergency. We tried to reach her parents,
but were informed they're out of the country. We've
put her in room 1228 for now. Again, this is Ms.
Bradford at Sunnydale Memorial. Would you contact me
as soon as possible? Thank you. Beep. Eight twenty p.m."

Giles stood still for a moment, the shock of the news
knocking the wind out of him.

"Last night?" he mumbled to himself, realizing the time-
stamp was from early the night before. Not wanting to
waste another minute, Giles dashed upstairs and threw
on some clothes. He raced to his car and sped to the
hospital.

'Must have been that flu,' he hoped to himself. 'Good
thing she didn't come with us.'

As he continued to assure himself that she was
in good hands, he'd calmed considerably by the time he
reached the hospital.

He made his way past the admissions desk and went
straight for room 1228, familiarity with the hospital layout
finally paying dividends.

He turned the last corner and pushed open the door to
her room. The bed was empty. He stepped into the room
and frowned.

"Are you a relative?" came a voice from the door.

Giles turned and shook his head at the man in the
white coat. "No, but I was called. Nurse Bradford."

The doctor nodded and extended his hand. "I'm Dr.
Grabowski."

Giles shook his hand. "Rupert Giles. What happened?"
he asked.

The doctor sighed. "I wish I knew. She was admitted
last night. Apparently, she'd fainted in her college
dorm. She was displaying typical flu symptoms.
There are some pretty virulent strains around this
season. We put her on antibiotics."

Giles nodded, relieved that it wasn't something
supernatural.

"But her fever kept rising. We were forced to submerge
her in ice, try to keep her body temperature down." He
shook his head and looked at the floor..

Giles felt a cold chill run through him. "What are you
saying?" he said in a strangled voice.

The doctor looked up from the floor and met Giles'
eyes. "Oh, I thought you-- I'm so sorry," he said as
he reached out to touch Giles' arm.

Giles recoiled from the touch, from the words. This
wasn't happening. "S-sorry?"

"Willow died an hour ago."

Part Two

"N-no," Giles whispered. "Y-you must be mistaken.
There's been a mistake."

"I'm sorry."

"N-no-- I-I w-was," Giles stammered, unable to think.
He rubbed his forehead. "I don't understand."

"Please, why don't you sit here for a moment," the
doctor said, motioning to a nearby chair.

Giles blinked rapidly and then closed his eyes. "N-No.
I-I want to see her."

"I don't think-"

"I want to see her," Giles repeated.

"No, I don't-"

Giles' eyes narrowed as he lunged forward and grabbed
the doctor by the arms. "Now!" No one was going to
keep him from Willow.

"Mr. Giles!"

Giles didn't loosen his grip. He leaned in close, his
face twisted, his voice was low, cold and harsh.
"Now."

The doctor gulped and nodded. "I suppose you could
identify the body."

Slowly, Giles released his arms. Giles let out a rush
of air at the words, impersonal, technical. None of this
had anything to do with his Willow. He took refuge in
denial, letting it cover his heart like a blanket. He nodded
absently. "Yes."

"I'll have someone come by and escort you," he said.
"I am sorry, Mr. Giles."

Giles ignored him, his thoughts racing through
possible scenarios. At the end of each was blackness,
his mind kept shifting quickly to the next, not
allowing the images to take hold.

He stared at the empty bed. Willow's bed. He turned
away quickly and exited into the hall. He leaned
against the wall. This simply was not happening.
This – was – not – happening.

Willow was fine. He'd see the body they thought was
Willow and tell them they were wrong. Willow was fine.

This was not happening.

*****

The corridor seemed to stretch out endlessly. The
white walls and the smell so familiar and always,
always a reminder of pain.

The young attendant who walked a few paces ahead of
Giles, stopped and gestured to a door.

Giles took a breath and nodded, waiting for the other
man to open the door. The attendant placed his hand on
the door and pushed, Giles entered the cold room.

He closed his eyes. The morgue was not a place you
ever forgot. It was a room filled with unendurable
endings and painful beginnings for those who came to
visit.

Giles opened his eyes and walked to the middle of the
room. He stopped abruptly, suddenly unable to move any
further.

The attendant, familiar with the signs of agony,
simply nodded and pushed a gurney away from its lonely
place against a wall. A small figure lay concealed by
stark white sheet.

The young man spoke softly. "Are you ready, sir?"

Giles couldn't seem to look away from the body or find
his voice and merely nodded his assent.

Slowly, the sheet was pulled back.

"No," Giles choked out. "Willow."

She lay pale, still and gone.

"Is this Willow Rosenberg?"

"Y-yes," he said his voice barely above a whisper.

The man started to replace the sheet, but Giles
lurched forward. "Just -- just give me a minute.
Please?"

The man nodded and silently stepped away.

Giles frowned. He couldn't seem to catch his breath.
He reached out with a trembling hand, pausing just
above her face. He hovered near her cheek before
giving in to the need and gently brushing her hair
behind her ear.

He choked out a strangled sound as his fingers swept
along her cool skin, the warmth of life already having
fled.

He let his fingers trace the side of her face, a
loving caress he could never give her in life.

He looked down at her chest, insanely hoping to see
the rise and fall, somehow praying that his touch
would awaken her from this slumber.

It was then that he noticed her hands. He'd always
admired them, thought they were beautiful, small and
elegant. But here in death, they spoke of pain and
struggle. The tiny hands were clenched into tight
fists.

He couldn't bear to see them this way. He took her
hand in his, again his breath caught at the cool skin,
so devoid of life. He ignored the growing sense of
rage that had taken root in his stomach and touched
her with the utmost care. He pried her hand open,
rigor mortis already making her fingers stiff. He
straightened them, repeating the gesture with her
other hand before laying them flat, palms down, at her
sides.

He swallowed down the bile that had begun to rise in
his throat and leaned over her, placing a soft kiss
on her forehead.

Giles stood up and took a deep breath. His eyes had
gone dark, and his body was beginning to shake. With
one last look, he turned and left the cold morgue and
the body of Willow Rosenberg.

Part Three

Once he was free of the morgue, Giles leaned heavily
against the wall. As the numbness of the initial shock
began to wear off, he slowly became aware of his
roiling emotions - anger, shame, fear, loneliness and
regret - all in warring measure surged through him.

He clung to the wall, sure his world had split apart.
How could Willow be dead? In his mind and heart,
Willow had always symbolized life. Her smile, her
eyes, everything about her was so alive, so contrary
to the cold shell he'd just seen.

He caught a sob as it rose in his throat. Willow.

God.

Willow.

He shook his head and cursed himself a thousand times
for a fool. He'd thought her too young. He told
himself to wait. To wait. 'She needs to find herself,
to mature. Let her live a little before you reveal
yourself,' he'd told himself.

And now it was too late. For all of the things he'd
wanted to tell her. All of those times he'd
started to do just that and let something - fear,
circumstance, something - stop him. And now his heart
was spilling over with things he could never say. All
the loving words, left unspoken, dying in his heart.

Lost in a haze of grief, Giles walked down the long
hall that had become the passage to his own personal
hell.

As he stumbled through the corridors, Dr. Grabowski
approached him. "Mr. Giles?"

"Hmm? Yes," he said suddenly very tired.

The young doctor was accompanied by another man. "Mr.
Giles, this is Rabbi Adam Shapiro. He was -- he was
with Willow."

Giles looked in to the kind eyes of the Rabbi and
nodded absently.

"If there's anything I can do for you or the girl's
family. Please, don't hesitate to call me."

Giles nodded again and was assaulted with the image of
this man sitting next to Willow offering the comfort
he should have given.

"Tell me," Giles whispered.

"I'm sorry," the Rabbi said kindly. "Tell you what?"

"Everything. What was it like?" Giles paused and
looked away, unable to bear the man's kindness. "Did
she suffer?"

"It was... difficult for a time," he answered carefully.
"But I believe she made her peace with God."

"She did?" Giles asked unsure of what that meant or
why it was so important to him.

"Yes. The fever was very high. She was only conscious
for a short time." The Rabbi looked down considering
his next words carefully. He looked into Giles' eyes,
resolved that the truth was the only course. "Are you
Rupert?"

Giles' breath caught. 'Don't tell me. Don't say it,'
he thought. But his voice spoke something else,
feeling in some absurd way this was part of his
penance. "Yes."

"She asked for you. She loved you very much."

The words were like stab wounds, each one unerringly
finding its mark, causing the most pain. How could this
man know that his attempt to comfort was a life
sentence of regret?

Giles felt himself collapsing into some unmarked abyss.
The world he had known falling away and a
desperate sorrow taking over.

"She suffered from delirium near--- near the end. She
said things. Was she a scholar of some sort?" the
Rabbi asked.

Giles nodded, but wasn't listening. All he could hear
was Willow calling out for him.

"She spoke some phrases. They seemed Latin. I'm afraid
I'm not as up on my Latin as I should be," the Rabbi
said regretfully.

Giles didn't respond.

The Rabbi looked at the doctor with a sympathy borne
of years of experience.

The doctor stepped forward and put his hand on Giles'
arm. "Perhaps, it would be best if you rested. I can
prescribe something to help you sleep."

Giles looked up, temporarily freed from his own
prison. "No."

"Is there someone you'd like us to call?" the Rabbi
offered.

'Oh God,' Giles thought. Buffy and Xander. He'd have
to tell them. How could he tell them? Instantly, he
flashed back to a day years ago.

He was reading late at the library, sure Buffy had
gone out for the evening when he heard the doors open.

"Oh Buffy, I thought you were going out tonight. I
didn't expect --" his voice trailing off as he saw the
looks on their faces - the pain, the loss.

Then the tentative elation as she had walked into the
library so very alive. There'd be no salvation this time.

They'd cheated death so often, and now it had finally
won.

How could he stand to see that look on their faces again?
He couldn't bear his own pain, and theirs would be just
another burden, another anguish he couldn't take away.

They wouldn't understand the depth of his pain. They
didn't know how he felt about Willow. How could they?
He'd kept his precious secret so well. He'd buried his
desires so deep and now he'd bury Willow with them.

How would they go on? She was everything to them. To him.

Blind to everything but his pain, Giles mumbled
something to the doctor and the rabbi and nearly ran
from the hospital.

Suddenly, he felt sick. He needed air, desperately.
And once free of the white walls, he breathed in the
fresh air greedily, knowing it was only a band-aid to
a gaping wound.

He managed to find his car and slid into the front
seat. He gripped the steering wheel and finally the
tears came.

Rupert Giles sat alone in the hospital parking lot and cried.

Part Four

Photographs never did her justice. Oh, she was
beautiful in them, but they could never capture what
her made her Willow - the spark in her eyes or the
warmth in her smile.

Giles raised the glass to his lips, his eyes never
straying from the photograph in his hands. The scotch
could have been water for all it mattered. He couldn't
taste it, couldn't feel the heat as it slid down. Even
the numbness escaped him - all he could feel was a
ripping in his chest and a cold, penetrating darkness.

He stared at the picture, a candid photo of Willow at
the park, wishing he could run his fingers through her
hair, caress it as the sun had done that day. He tried
to see her this way - bright and beautiful, but the image
of her lying on that cold slab in the morgue wouldn't recede.

"Giles?" Buffy said as she and Xander barged into his
apartment. "What's going on? You're message was--" her
voice trailed off as she saw the glass of liquor and
his slumped shoulders.

Giles looked up at them with unseeing eyes. Every
sight overlaid with the ghastly image of Willow as
he'd last seen her.

"What's going on?" Xander said anxiously. Then he saw
the photograph that Giles had gripped in his hand.
"Oh, God."

"What? Buffy demanded. "Xander?" she asked as
all the color drained from his face.

He ignored her and looked into Giles' eyes, trying to
deny what he saw there. "She isn't."

"Who isn't?" Buffy said angrily. "What's going on?
Giles?"

When she finally looked at him, really looked, she
knew the answers and rushed forward and grabbed Giles'
sweater. "What's going on?"

Giles looked at his Slayer, his eyes focusing on her
for the first time since she'd arrived. He swallowed.
"Willow," he croaked. "She's--" He frowned as the word
wouldn't come.

"She's dead," Xander finished for him.

"What?" Buffy said turning on Xander. "What the hell
are you talking about? She's fine. Isn't she, Giles?"

He looked back down at he photo.

"Giles?" she repeated. He didn't answer her, and she
tore the photo away from him and threw it against the
wall, the glass shattering like their lives.

Giles didn't even flinch. He merely took another long
pull from his drink.

Buffy fell to her knees in front of him, holding on to
him like a child. "Was-was it vampires?" she asked in
a small voice.

He took a deep breath before speaking. "No." It should
have been a comfort, but the fact that she'd died of
something natural only made him feel more helpless.
"It was-- a fever."

"A fever?" Buffy said in disbelief. "People don't die
from fevers. Not anymore."

Giles didn't know what to say.

Xander had fallen into a chair. "She was sick yesterday."

Buffy spun around to face him. "But-but she was fine.
It was just a cold." She turned back to Giles. "Tell
me this isn't happening. I need this not to be
happening."

Giles smiled sadly. "I wish --" was all he could say
before his chin began to tremble.

"She's --- she's really -- gone?" Buffy whispered.

The tear that slid down Giles' cheek was her only
answer.

She gasped and caught back a sob as it filled her
throat, but the tears came and the Slayer sat on the
floor and wept.

"When?" Xander asked softly, his brown eyes spilling
tears.

Giles shook his head, loathe to tell them, but knowing
it was part of his punishment. "She was admitted to
the hospital last night."

"What?" Xander yelled jumping to his feet. "And you
call me now?"

Buffy wrapped her arms around her body.

"I didn't know," Giles rasped. "I--I didn't get the
message until this morning. I-"

"I don't understand."

Giles closed his eyes and then looked directly at
Xander, accepting the silent accusations. "Last night,
Willow collapsed and was brought to the emergency
room. The nurse called me and left a message."

"And you just thought you'd wait until the morning?"
Xander yelled.

Giles ignored the outburst. "I didn't get home until
late, and I went straight to bed. I --I didn't check
the machine until the morning."

"While Willow was dying?" Xander growled.

"Yes," Giles said plainly.

"I-- can't believe you! What the fuck is wrong with
you?"

Giles surged to his feet and strode toward the younger
man. "What do you want me to say? That Willow
suffered? That Willow called out my name while I sat
here reading the fucking paper? Is that what you want!"

Xander shook his head and looked down. "No, that's not what
I want," he whispered hoarsely.

Giles covered his face with his hands. "Jesus," he
cried.

Buffy slowly stood and walked unsteadily into the
kitchen. She picked up the phone and dialed.

"Giles, I didn't-" Xander started and reached out to
the older man.

Giles just shook his head and walked away, unable to
accept any sort of comfort. He knelt next to the
smashed photo and picked up the picture.

Xander watched him walk away before turning inside
himself.

"Angel?" Buffy said in a trembling voice. "Angel,
Willow's dead."

Part Five

Buffy tried to think only of Angel. He'd make her
feel better. He'd take the pain away. Make it all
better. All better.

Xander sat wide-eyed in a chair staring at the front
door, sure Willow was going to walk through it.

While Giles remained on the floor where the picture
frame had hit the wall. He leaned against the
fireplace, his mind racing from one torturous thought
to the next.

None of the three knew how long it had been since
Buffy had called Angel, but finally there was a knock
on the door.

"Giles? Buffy?" Angel called out.

Buffy ran to the door, throwing it open and flinging
herself in Angel's arms, not even acknowledging
Cordelia and Wesley. "Oh, God," she sobbed against his
chest.

"Shh," he soothed her. "I'm sorry."

"Xander," Cordelia said as she entered the apartment.
The younger man's eyes focused on her and a sob
escaped his body.

Cordelia put her arms around him and tenderly stroked
his hair. "My Willow," he gasped.

Wesley felt incredibly awkward intruding at a time
like this, but he certainly couldn't remain in Los
Angeles. He'd been fond of the girl too, but to see
the depth of emotion here was staggering. Tentatively,
he approached his fellow ex-Watcher.

"Mr. Giles," he said softly. "Rupert?"

Giles, his tears long ago spent, looked up at the man
with hollow eyes.

Wesley took a steadying breath. "I'm sure anything I
say would be inadequate at this time. But I -- I just
want you to know how sincerely sorry I am. She - she
was," he knew his words would be cold comfort, but
it was the highest form of praise he could offer.
"She was a valued member of the team," he finished.

"Valued -- member?" Giles hissed, his eyes full of
rage. He rose to his feet, everything about his
posture threatened violence.

"I'm sorry," Wesley said quickly, stepping away.
"Willow was much-"

"Don't you dare speak her name," Giles spat as he
advanced on the younger man. "You have no idea what
she was."

"No, quite right," Wesley said in his most apologetic
tone.

Giles continued his menacing advance. "I ought to rip
out your throat."

"A-Angel!" Wesley cried.

"Giles!" the vampire called out as he released Buffy
from his embrace and intercepted Giles before he beat
Wesley to a pulp. He grabbed him by the shoulders and
forced him to look into his eyes. "Giles! Listen to
me! This isn't helping anyone!"

Giles growled in response, his eyes darting to Wesley.
He needed so badly to release his anger, and the man
was as good a target as any.

"I know how you feel," Angel said. "But Wesley's here
to help. We're all here to help."

Giles looked into Angel's face and took a deep breath,
bringing a hand to his face, the anger receded, shame
taking its place. "I'm sorry."

"We loved her, too."

Giles laughed bitterly and shook his head. His secret
love continuing to mock him, tormenting him still.

Sensing Giles had calmed sufficiently, Angel let go
and turned back to Buffy. "How did it happen?"

She stepped again into his embrace and sighed through
her tears.

"Was -- was it a vampire?" Angel asked softly, his own
voice tinged with loathing.

Buffy shook her head. "It was -- I still can't believe
it. It was a fever."

"She'd been ill?" Wesley asked carefully.

"Just for the last few days, but it wasn't bad. I
mean, we would have done something." She started to
sob again. "I would have done anything."

"I know," Angel whispered.

Wesley's Watcher training asserted itself and like a
detective he needed to piece together the puzzle,
provided there was one. "Did she come into contact
with any unusual demons? Anything out of the
ordinary?" he asked as he crossed to Giles' bookcase.

"No, I--" Buffy said trying to clear her head.

"There are certain demons whose defenses include
airborne viruses," he said as he pulled several
volumes from the shelves. "They're quite rare, but --"

"But Willow's -- she's --," Xander said roughly. "I
mean what good is any of this now?"

"Perhaps none," Wesley admitted. "You're sure, she
didn't have any unusual--"

"Wait! Wait!" Buffy said excitedly. "Last week.
Remember last week. We were out by those old rock
thingies near the beach-- what the hell are those--"

"The Druidic remnants," Giles said softly. "You
mentioned something about a creature."

"Yeah! But we kicked its ass. We didn't think anything
of it."

Giles strode across the room to Wesley' side. The
younger man flinched at his approach, but held his
ground.

Giles took the book from the other man's hands and
rifled through the pages. "You-you said it had curved
horns and uhm--"

"It's hands were like-- a pitchfork," Buffy said
crossing the room quickly to stand next to Giles.

"A trident. Yes, here! Is this it?" Giles asked
anxiously. "That's him," Buffy said angrily.

"The Meridacant. It uses a spell upon its defeat to
destroy its foe. A sickness that manifests itself in a
consuming fever. The Fire-From-Within," Giles read
from the book, finally slamming it shut. He clamped
his eyes shut as the real truth of what he discovered
struck him. "I could have saved her."

Wesley sighed, but forged ahead. "There's no known
cure for the spell. There's nothing you could have
done."

Giles spun toward the man. "I could have tried!" He
turned away in shame. "I didn't even ask for details.
Oh, evil dispatched, move on," he hissed bitterly.

"I don't understand; why didn't I get sick?" Buffy
asked.

"Your Slayer strength must have given you some kind of
immunity," Wesley reasoned.

"Sounds logical," Angel said as he put his arms around
Buffy's shoulders.

"What difference does it make?" Xander yelled
suddenly. "You can research and name things and come
up with logical scenario's all you want. Who gives a
fucking shit! Willow's still dead!" Cordelia pulled
him toward her and tried to calm him.

"Unless," Wesley said under his breath. "Were any of
you-- were you with her near--," he swallowed
nervously. "-- near the end?"

The silence was his answer. "I see," he said softly,
nodding his head in disappointment.

"A rabbi was with her," Giles said in a small voice.

Wesley perked up and stood in front of Giles. "Did he
mention anything unusual?"

Giles shook his head. It was all a blur, his time at
the hospital. "No -- not." Giles looked at the younger
man. "Yes." He straightened and narrowed his eyes in
concentration. "He did mention that she seemed to be
saying things in Latin... H-he thought she was delusional
from the fever."

Wesley's brow furrowed as he considered this new piece
of information. "There is a spell--"

"What spell?" Buffy demanded.

Ignoring the interruption he continued his train of
thought. "It's incredibly difficult and historically
unreliable, but--"

"Pons Intermundia," Giles whispered his voice tight
with restrained hope. He turned to Wesley. "Do- do you
think--?"

Wesley took a deep breath.

"Somebody better tell me what the hell's going on!"
Buffy rasped.

"What is it?" Xander asked hopefully, clutching
Cordelia's hand for support.

"Pons Intermundia roughly translates to 'a bridge
between'. If she had the time and the knowledge," Wesley
shook his head skeptically. "It is possible that she
cast the spell - sending her soul onto the bridge
between worlds."

"But," Buffy said. "I hear a but."

Wesley nodded. "It's a delicate spell and even
assuming she was successful, we have fewer than 24
hours to return her soul to her body or she--"

"Or what?"

"Or she'll be forced to walk between worlds for
eternity," Giles said dismally.

Part Six

"What do we have to do?" Xander said as he pulled away
from Cordelia and approached the ex-Watchers.

Wesley pursed his lips. "The ingredients for the
return spell are rather simple. Angel could you-"

The vampire nodded. "I know what to get." He kissed
Buffy's forehead before looking into her eyes. "Well
find a way," he promised her.

She nodded.

"Cordelia?" Angel asked.

She looked at Xander, silently asking if it was all
right for her to leave his side. He smiled weakly.

"Is the mansion vacant?" Wesley inquired. "We'll need
more room."

"Yeah," Buffy said softly, fighting down the memories.
"It's empty."

"Good, then we'll rendezvous there."

Angel nodded, and he and Cordelia left.

"What else do we need?" Buffy asked anxious to *do*
something.

"Willow," Wesley said softly. "Her... ah... her body."

"Oh," Buffy said trying to stay calm. "Right. Okay.
She's--- she's in the morgue." She took a deep breath
and closed her eyes for a moment. "So we go the
morgue."

"I'll do it," Giles said. "I -- I know where to go."
Without waiting for a reply he headed for the door.

"I'm coming too," Buffy said firmly.

"Me too," Xander put in.

Giles turned, his face a dark mask. He looked at
Wesley, his eyes intense.

"I-I am going to need someone to stay and help me
prepare for the spell," Wesley said tentatively. He
looked at the three before him; they were all
determined to go. He wouldn't cross the Slayer, not
now. And judging from the look in Giles' eyes, well...
"Xander? Would you stay?"

The boy was about to protest when Buffy put her hand
on his shoulder. "Please? We'll bring her back. I
promise."

Reluctantly, he nodded. Buffy turned back to Giles.
"Let's go."

*****

Giles and Buffy waited around the corner for the
attendant to leave the morgue. At this hour, he was
the only one on duty, and the room would be empty. As
they watched him enter the break room, they hurried
down the corridor and pushed into the cold morgue.

Buffy shuddered and stopped in the middle of the room.
It was so stark, so empty feeling. She saw Giles
stride across the floor to gurney pushed against the
far wall.

She crossed to stand by his side. He stood
stock-still, staring down at the covered body. She
heard a soft sob escape his lips and quickly looked up
at him.

She'd only seen him look like that once before - after
Jenny. And even then... Suddenly, it hit her like a
ton of bricks. He was in love with Willow.

How had she missed it all these years? Was she so
blind to the people around her? Her own grief felt
suddenly pale in comparison. She reached out and
touched his arm. He looked down at her, his heart in
his eyes, finally unafraid of the truth. Buffy smiled
wanly in understanding before turning her attention
back to the small figure under the sheet.

She watched as he took a deep breath and with a
trembling hand pulled back the sheet. Buffy made a
small choking sound at the sight of her best friend's
body. She thought she had steeled herself, was ready
to face it, but nothing can prepare you for something
like this.

Giles clenched his jaw and then reached forward
carefully sweeping her body up into his arms. Tenderly
he lifted her, the long sheet flowing down to the floor.
Buffy picked up the material and tucked it in around
Willow. Giles cradled her to his chest, his heart pounding.

Silently, they left the morgue, carrying their
precious cargo and tenuous hopes.

*****

Cordelia and Angel had retrieved the needed
ingredients and helped Xander and Wesley prepare for
the spell.

They made a large circle on the floor, placing candles
around the perimeter.

As Buffy and Giles entered with Willow's body, the
group fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts,
the proximity of death like a weight, with a presence
of its own.

Giles stepped into the circle and knelt down,
carefully setting her body on the cold floor. He
pulled the sheet away from her face and tenderly
brushed her hair away from her eyes. The gesture was
lost on no one. He stood, reluctant to leave her side
and stepped out of the circle.

"Very good," Wesley said quietly. "Would everyone
please take a place on the outside of the circle?"
Obediently, they complied, all eyes on the small
figure.

Wesley took a deep breath. "Would everyone please
clear their minds. Your thoughts must be of Willow and
Willow alone. Her soul is lost in a void, in order for
her to return to her corporeal state, her spirit must
be guided. Our thoughts, our hearts will be her beacon
in the darkness."

He allowed everyone a few moments to prepare before
continuing. He read from a small book.

"If there is one among you whose love for the departed
is unspoiled, step forward into the circle."

As one, Buffy, Angel, Xander and Giles stepped
forward.

"Ah," Wesley said with a small sigh.

Buffy turned to the vampire. "Angel?"

"I do love her, Buffy. I owe her my soul," he said
sincerely.

"I'm afraid that's not quite the type of love we're
looking for here," Wesley said uneasily.

Angel nodded and reluctantly withdrew from the circle.
Buffy sighed. "I guess that leaves me out, too?"

Wesley smiled in sympathy. "Well," he ventured as
Giles and Xander remained.

The two men stared at each other. Finally Xander
spoke, his voice halting. "I've loved her all my
life."

Giles didn't waver, his voice calm and sure. "She *is*
my life."

Xander stood for a moment, refusing the truth in
Giles' words. But the look in the older man's eyes
couldn't be denied. Xander nodded slightly, somehow
knowing all along that Giles was always the one.
Lowering his head, Xander stepped out of the circle.

"Right," Wesley said softly. "Would you kneel next to
her? And place one hand on her heart?" Giles did as he
was asked, closing his eyes one last time in prayer
before gazing down at Willow.

Wesley began reading from the small spell book, each
member of the group concentrating on the words, on
their love Willow.

Soon the room was crackling with magickal energies,
winds from some other world whipping through the great
halls of the mansion.

Giles stared intently at Willow's body, begging for
any sign of life. 'Please, love? Please?

A great crack of thunder shook the very walls, a
blinding flash of energy snaked down from the
ceiling, stabbing into Willow's still form. Her body
convulsed from the shock.

Abruptly, the winds, the sounds, the light disappeared
and silence reigned. The group stood frozen. Giles'
hand still resting on Willow's chest.

And then, incredibly faint at first, he felt her
heart beat. Once. Twice. Giles' breath caught
at the sound. The others wanted to surge forward,
but held their ground, afraid to break the circle.

Again, another beat. Stronger. Then stronger still.
"Willow?" Giles whispered. "Can you hear me?"

Weakly, her eyes began to flutter open.

"Willow?" he repeated a bit louder. "Can you hear me?"

Finally, her eyes opened and found Giles. A small
smile came to her lips. "I heard you," she whispered.

Giles gasped and pulled her to his body, holding her
fiercely as the others broke their silence and joined
him inside the circle.

Willow, although weak, was alive and gazed lovingly at
each of her friends in turn. It was because of their
love. She was alive because of their great love for
her. "I heard you all," she said softly after looking at
each of them, her gaze returned to Giles.

His face was finally an open book; all his emotions,
all his love for her, was spilling out with his tears.
Willow lifted a trembling hand to capture them both.
Giles caught her hand and kissed it, tasting his own
tears.

After a long moment, Giles stood protectively cradling
Willow in his arms. He looked at his friends and
smiled in profound gratitude. "I'm going to..." he
said in a voice thick with emotion. "To take Willow
home now."

Buffy stepped forward. "I'll go wi--" and then she
smiled in realization. "Oh."

Giles smiled back at this Slayer before gazing down at
the woman in his arms. She smiled lovingly at him,
and his heart was full again. He walked out of the
mansion and took Willow home. Their home.

The End