Home Again
Title: Home Again
Rating: PG
Summary: BtVS Season 6. Set between "The Bargaining part 1" and "Flooded." Giles returns to England to restart his life, when he learns that Buffy has come back from the dead.
Giles imagined that he had never been so grateful to get on a train in his life. He was leaving London and the Council behind. He had known that it would be painful when he presented his completed Watcher's diary to the council. What he hadn't been prepared for was the fact that the Council had no idea that Buffy was dead.
In the center of the Council headquarters was a giant crystal that was watched night and day. It was as old as the council itself, and it's origins had become shrouded in myth. Whenever one Slayer died and another was chosen, the crystal would light up.
At least that was what Giles had always been taught. It seemed the crystal in fact glowed not when a Slayer died, but when one was chosen. It had been a question of morbid curiosity among among the Council since Buffy had died the first time, whether there would now be two Slayers forever, or if the Slayer line had passed from her to Kendra, and then to Faith.
Now it seemed they had their answer. Faith was now The Chosen One. To be on the safe side, the council was going to look into the possibility that there was another Slayer out there. Giles suspected that it was mostly to guard against the possibility of another Slayer escaping their control.
Luckily he'd been saved going over the details of Buffy's death by some old friends of his from the Academy. They had gone to the old pub together. It was one of those things that should have been just like old times. It wasn't.
Oh, he got along well enough with his old friends. They traded stories, caught up on each others lives and families (many of them had grown up together). Argued over politics, football, and theories of demonic possession. But it wasn't the same.
Or rather they were the same; it was Giles who was different. His friends all seemed so young, and he felt so old. When he looked into their eyes he didn't see half the experience that could be found in Willow's or Xander's or Anya's. Well, all right Anya didn't count, she was over a thousand years old.
Giles felt like a soldier returned from war. All his old friends were eager to rush off to battle and glory, and only he knew the reality that lay before them. Only he had lost fellow soldiers to the enemy. None of them had ever seen the mouth of hell open or the very fabric of reality unravel.
Still it was a pleasant time even if it did seem like a scene from someone else's life. When they were leaving, his oldest friend Neville handed him a slip of paper with an international phone number written on it. Giles stared at it for a moment, trying to decipher the unfamiliar country code.
"This is Sam Zabuto number," was all Neville said.
Giles took it, and thanked him. Zabuto had been Kendra's Watcher. On the one hand Zabuto might be one of the few who understood how Giles felt. On the other, he didn't know if he could face the other man. After all Zabyto's Slayer had been killed trying to keep Drusilla from kidnapping him.
He had put the number in his pocket, figuring he would decide what to do later. Now he sat watching the English countryside pass through the windows of the train.
He arrived in Bath, and found his way to the flat he had rented out. He had arranged with some friends to have some of things brought to there. Things he had put in storage years ago when he left England.
Giles moved around the flat opening boxes and discovering long forgotten items. Things he had packed away years ago before he moved to America.
Most of the items were unremarkable things. A toaster, the iron, a few clocks, and an answering machine; basically anything that plugged in and would have required a transformer if he had taken it to America. It had seemed so logical to leave those items until he returned to England, when he would need them again.
He couldn't remember now, if he had ever thought about what the circumstances would be of his return. If he had known, as he packed away these things, that the next time he saw them a young girl would be dead.
Unpacking didn't take that long however. His most valuable items, his books, would be shipped over by Anya in the next few days. He had gotten rid of most of his other things before he had left Sunnydale. Some strange impulse had caused him to give much of his furniture to Spike. He supposed he was grateful that the vampire had continued to aid them, even after Buffy's death.
When he was done, he took a moment to sit and relax. The moment stretched into minutes. And suddenly Giles realized that almost an hour had past while he sat there waiting.
Waiting for someone to come bursting through the door with news of a new demon. But there was no one was to come through that door. And there wouldn't be either, if Giles didn't get up and get out of his flat.
He had noticed a pub only a few blocks away from his new home, so he decided to head there. He sat at the bar ordered a pint, and tried to remember how to do this. How to meet people. It should be simple, just start up a conversation, but he had no idea what people who didn't spend their lives fighting demons talked about.
He was half way through his pint, when a woman sat down next to him.
"Haven't seen you here before," she said sweetly.
She was a very attractive woman, whom Giles guessed was in her late thirties or early forties. Her long black hair was held out of her face with an ornate barrette and it was streaked with gray. She wore a brown and red sweater and black slacks. Her smile was kind, but she also exuded the confidence and power of someone who was sure and happy with themselves.
"Uh, n-n-no. I, um just moved here." Giles thought he had gotten rid of his stutter years ago. It seemed to have returned. "Rupert Giles," he finished, remembering his manners.
She took his hand and smiled encouragingly. "Althenea Hartness," she replied. "Are you coming from London?" she enquired.
"Um, no. I mean yes, but not for a long time. Or rather, I'm from London but I've been in California for the last five years. But of course I came through London, via Heathrow."
She smiled patiently as he stumbled through his introductions.
"So what brings you to Bath?"
"Uh, nothing really. I just. . . well we came here a few times when I was a child and I thought. . ."
"I understand, sometimes we just end up where we need to be. I moved here because a friend from university lived here. It turned out to be the perfect place."
"Yes, well. I'm not quite looking for perfection, just a quiet place to continue my studies."
"Oh, what do you study?" she asked with interest.
Without missing a beat Giles lied, "Mythology."
"Oh, really?" she said with genuine enthusiasm. "We shall certainly have to have a talk about that sometime. My field is botany, but I've spent quite some time studying the folklore and myths native people's have about their local flora."
"Indeed? Yes, it's rather amazing the amount of knowledge contained in such traditions."
"So is that what you were doing in California?"
"Uh, no. Actually I was a school librarian for several years. More recently I acquired a small shop there. My partner is running it for me now."
"Oh? What sort of shop."
"Well, um." In California owning an occult shop might have made him seem hip, he wasn't sure how it would be viewed in this corner of England. "We sold many books, and knickknacks and the like."
After the clumsiness of his initial introductions, Giles began to relax, and he and Althenea fell into easy conversation. Althenea it turned out had spent several years in the Amazon, after she had finished school, studying the rain forests. She was a fascinating woman, and certain comments she made lead him to believe that perhaps he could be more forthcoming with his past than he had been so far.
"Oh, my look at the time. It's practically supper." Althenea remarked. "Well, since you've just arrived, I'm sure your kitchen is in no shape for a real meal. Why don't you come by my place and we'll have dinner."
"Oh, no I couldn't impose," he protested politely. Although he was secretly delighted at the invitation. He had been terrified that he'd been boring the poor woman, but the honestness behind her invitation told him that she genuinely enjoyed his company.
"I insist. I won't take no for an answer, so you might as well follow me so that I don't drag you out of here."
He smiled, "Well it seems that I have no choice. But I insist you let me help you cook."
She laughed, a twinkle in her eye. "Do you think I would let you get away with just standing there doing nothing?"
Althenea had a charming little cottage a couple blocks from the pub, with a beautiful garden out front. The garden not only contained flowers, but there was also an herb garden and Giles noticed that a few of the plants were found more commonly in spells than in cooking.
Inside, there were a few more minor details that told him he was in the house of a witch. Various knickknacks, crystals, and candles, that would have seemed only decorations to the untrained eye, but Giles recognized as items of power.
He followed her into the kitchen and she had him set about cutting vegetables.
Trying to politely bring up the subject of witchcraft he confessed, "I'm afraid I wasn't quite honest earlier."
"Oh?" she asked.
"My shop, it's actually an occult store, called The Magic Box. A bit absurd I know. . ."
"Oh! Then do you practice the craft?" she asked.
"Not as such myself. Although I have tried to guide a very talented young witch I know. Actually I was a Watcher."
"I'm sorry dear, I'm not familiar with that term," she confessed.
"Ah yes, I don't suppose you've ever heard of the Slayer?"
"It's sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it."
"The Slayer is a young girl chosen to fight vampires and demons. Sh-"
"Oh yes. I mean I've never heard of her directly, but I've run across many legends of young female warriors who defended their people from all manner of evil. You're saying they are more than legends?"
"Yes, you see. . ." Giles began to explain to her about the Slayer, and the Council and what a Watcher was.
Then he told her the real reason he'd been in California, and then he said her name, Buffy. It seemed ages since he spoken it. Since her death her friends had all tiptoed around her name, as if they could forget the hole she'd left in their lives by not naming her.
With the Council it had all been, "the Slayer this," and "the Slayer that." Even if protocol had not dictated that he refer to her in that way, he would have felt traitorous using her name in front of them. They were not worthy to hear it.
But here, in this small English cottage, with a woman he barely knew, suddenly he could talk about her. About her life, about her death.
From time to time it occurred to him that he was horribly burdening this stranger with his problems, but every time he tried to stop, Althenea would just smile and encourage him to go on.
Dinner was done, and they sat sipping some wine and Giles wiped tears from his eyes.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to abuse your hospitality so horribly."
"Don't be silly Rupert," she said, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "The moment I saw you, I knew you were in pain and that you needed to share it."
"You knew?"
"I read auras," she explained bluntly.
"I find that rather disturbing, but I do thank you, I think. . . I needed that. But I really must be going."
She smiled, got up and to his great surprise hugged him. "Well, I hope you won't be a stranger. I'm sure I'll see you at the pub again. And if you need anything, especially while you're getting settled, feel free to drop by."
"Yes, well, thank you again." he said.
"Besides," she said as he was stepping out the door. "Now I know who to talk to if I need some rare spell ingredients."
He smiled, said his good byes, and walked home.
As soon as he got to the door to his flat, he could hear the phone ringing. Cursing he tried to find his keys, but he still had his old keys from Sunnydale on the ring with the new keys. By the time he got the door open the answering machine had already picked up and he heard a recorded message more than five years old play.
"Uh, hi Giles," came Willow's voice from the machine. "I think you need a new mess-"
He picked up the phone. "Yes, Willow? Sorry about that, I was out for dinner."
"Oh Giles!" she began again, excitedly. "I did it! Well we did it. She's back. We saved her."
"Slow down Willow," he told the hyper young woman. "Tell me what has happened. Who's back?"
"Buffy! She's alive! She's a little frazzled, but you know, a hell dimension will do that to a person." She paused, waiting for him to say something. "Giles? Giles?"
"Uh, yes I'm still here. I. . . I don't know what to say Willow. I'm stunned."
"I know it's so big. It's. . . it's ginormous. I almost can't believe we did it. Except I knew we could do it. We had to do it, to save her. We couldn't leave her, you know. Isn't it wonderful Giles?"
"Uh, yes. I suppose. . . I'll see about getting a flight back." Giles suddenly felt desperate to get off the phone. "I'm sorry Willow, it's late here, and I've had a long day. I need to get some rest."
"Oh! Of course. Well, I guess I'll see you soon. Bye, Giles."
"Good night, Willow."
He hung up the phone, and sat down.
Buffy was alive. He had buried her, mourned her, or at least begun to, and now she was alive. It was too much to hope for, so he thrust the thought aside. He didn't dare let himself believe it incase it wasn't really true.
Besides there was a far more serious matter. Willow. How could she have done this? Oh, he knew there were ways, but they all involved black magic. He thought Willow knew better than to do something like this. Didn't she understand the powers she was opening herself up to?
He had thought she would be the one to lead the others now that Buffy was gone. That she would be the voice of reason. That she would keep them from doing something rash. Of all of them he was the most surprised that she would do something this daring, and yet from her words it was obvious that she'd been a driving force behind it. Willow wasn't one to take credit that wasn't hers.
On the other hand he wasn't surprised that Xander had gone along with this. He thought with his heart, and had no understanding of danger such magic might pose.
Dawn was only a child, and she had lost both her mother and and sister within the space of a few short months. He could hardly blame the girl for grasping at straws.
But what of Anya? She had been around for more than a thousand years. She knew the consequences such magic could have. Surely she knew better? But then Anya had the bad habit of not offering up information. Not to mention that the formerly immortal vengeance demon feared death more than most people. Humanity had been a kind of death sentence on her. Perhaps she simply wanted to know there was a way around it. That death could be cheated.
Spike, well, Spike was evil. He probably had understood the consequences all too well, and allowed the Scoobies to walk into whatever trouble they may have gotten themselves into. Spike would welcome Buffy back no matter how she came back, all to satisfy his sick obsession.
And Tara? She was well versed in the laws that Wiccans had bound themselves to for centuries. Giles had thought there was more sense in the girl than to let herself be bullied by Willow.
Willow. It all came back to her. They never could have done it without the raw power she possessed. Now that Giles knew what had happened, he could see all the whispering behind his back. The months of plotting that had lead up to this monumental mistake.
Mistake? Could he call it that? They had brought Buffy back. Given her another chance at life. Giles loved her as if she were his own daughter.
He couldn't accept it however. Couldn't quite believe it. Finally he realized that his thoughts were just going round in circles. He got up and got ready for bed, even though he knew there was no way he'd be able to sleep that night.
In the morning he'd call a travel agent and get himself tickets back to America. It was time to go home again.
Rating: PG
Summary: BtVS Season 6. Set between "The Bargaining part 1" and "Flooded." Giles returns to England to restart his life, when he learns that Buffy has come back from the dead.
Giles imagined that he had never been so grateful to get on a train in his life. He was leaving London and the Council behind. He had known that it would be painful when he presented his completed Watcher's diary to the council. What he hadn't been prepared for was the fact that the Council had no idea that Buffy was dead.
In the center of the Council headquarters was a giant crystal that was watched night and day. It was as old as the council itself, and it's origins had become shrouded in myth. Whenever one Slayer died and another was chosen, the crystal would light up.
At least that was what Giles had always been taught. It seemed the crystal in fact glowed not when a Slayer died, but when one was chosen. It had been a question of morbid curiosity among among the Council since Buffy had died the first time, whether there would now be two Slayers forever, or if the Slayer line had passed from her to Kendra, and then to Faith.
Now it seemed they had their answer. Faith was now The Chosen One. To be on the safe side, the council was going to look into the possibility that there was another Slayer out there. Giles suspected that it was mostly to guard against the possibility of another Slayer escaping their control.
Luckily he'd been saved going over the details of Buffy's death by some old friends of his from the Academy. They had gone to the old pub together. It was one of those things that should have been just like old times. It wasn't.
Oh, he got along well enough with his old friends. They traded stories, caught up on each others lives and families (many of them had grown up together). Argued over politics, football, and theories of demonic possession. But it wasn't the same.
Or rather they were the same; it was Giles who was different. His friends all seemed so young, and he felt so old. When he looked into their eyes he didn't see half the experience that could be found in Willow's or Xander's or Anya's. Well, all right Anya didn't count, she was over a thousand years old.
Giles felt like a soldier returned from war. All his old friends were eager to rush off to battle and glory, and only he knew the reality that lay before them. Only he had lost fellow soldiers to the enemy. None of them had ever seen the mouth of hell open or the very fabric of reality unravel.
Still it was a pleasant time even if it did seem like a scene from someone else's life. When they were leaving, his oldest friend Neville handed him a slip of paper with an international phone number written on it. Giles stared at it for a moment, trying to decipher the unfamiliar country code.
"This is Sam Zabuto number," was all Neville said.
Giles took it, and thanked him. Zabuto had been Kendra's Watcher. On the one hand Zabuto might be one of the few who understood how Giles felt. On the other, he didn't know if he could face the other man. After all Zabyto's Slayer had been killed trying to keep Drusilla from kidnapping him.
He had put the number in his pocket, figuring he would decide what to do later. Now he sat watching the English countryside pass through the windows of the train.
He arrived in Bath, and found his way to the flat he had rented out. He had arranged with some friends to have some of things brought to there. Things he had put in storage years ago when he left England.
Giles moved around the flat opening boxes and discovering long forgotten items. Things he had packed away years ago before he moved to America.
Most of the items were unremarkable things. A toaster, the iron, a few clocks, and an answering machine; basically anything that plugged in and would have required a transformer if he had taken it to America. It had seemed so logical to leave those items until he returned to England, when he would need them again.
He couldn't remember now, if he had ever thought about what the circumstances would be of his return. If he had known, as he packed away these things, that the next time he saw them a young girl would be dead.
Unpacking didn't take that long however. His most valuable items, his books, would be shipped over by Anya in the next few days. He had gotten rid of most of his other things before he had left Sunnydale. Some strange impulse had caused him to give much of his furniture to Spike. He supposed he was grateful that the vampire had continued to aid them, even after Buffy's death.
When he was done, he took a moment to sit and relax. The moment stretched into minutes. And suddenly Giles realized that almost an hour had past while he sat there waiting.
Waiting for someone to come bursting through the door with news of a new demon. But there was no one was to come through that door. And there wouldn't be either, if Giles didn't get up and get out of his flat.
He had noticed a pub only a few blocks away from his new home, so he decided to head there. He sat at the bar ordered a pint, and tried to remember how to do this. How to meet people. It should be simple, just start up a conversation, but he had no idea what people who didn't spend their lives fighting demons talked about.
He was half way through his pint, when a woman sat down next to him.
"Haven't seen you here before," she said sweetly.
She was a very attractive woman, whom Giles guessed was in her late thirties or early forties. Her long black hair was held out of her face with an ornate barrette and it was streaked with gray. She wore a brown and red sweater and black slacks. Her smile was kind, but she also exuded the confidence and power of someone who was sure and happy with themselves.
"Uh, n-n-no. I, um just moved here." Giles thought he had gotten rid of his stutter years ago. It seemed to have returned. "Rupert Giles," he finished, remembering his manners.
She took his hand and smiled encouragingly. "Althenea Hartness," she replied. "Are you coming from London?" she enquired.
"Um, no. I mean yes, but not for a long time. Or rather, I'm from London but I've been in California for the last five years. But of course I came through London, via Heathrow."
She smiled patiently as he stumbled through his introductions.
"So what brings you to Bath?"
"Uh, nothing really. I just. . . well we came here a few times when I was a child and I thought. . ."
"I understand, sometimes we just end up where we need to be. I moved here because a friend from university lived here. It turned out to be the perfect place."
"Yes, well. I'm not quite looking for perfection, just a quiet place to continue my studies."
"Oh, what do you study?" she asked with interest.
Without missing a beat Giles lied, "Mythology."
"Oh, really?" she said with genuine enthusiasm. "We shall certainly have to have a talk about that sometime. My field is botany, but I've spent quite some time studying the folklore and myths native people's have about their local flora."
"Indeed? Yes, it's rather amazing the amount of knowledge contained in such traditions."
"So is that what you were doing in California?"
"Uh, no. Actually I was a school librarian for several years. More recently I acquired a small shop there. My partner is running it for me now."
"Oh? What sort of shop."
"Well, um." In California owning an occult shop might have made him seem hip, he wasn't sure how it would be viewed in this corner of England. "We sold many books, and knickknacks and the like."
After the clumsiness of his initial introductions, Giles began to relax, and he and Althenea fell into easy conversation. Althenea it turned out had spent several years in the Amazon, after she had finished school, studying the rain forests. She was a fascinating woman, and certain comments she made lead him to believe that perhaps he could be more forthcoming with his past than he had been so far.
"Oh, my look at the time. It's practically supper." Althenea remarked. "Well, since you've just arrived, I'm sure your kitchen is in no shape for a real meal. Why don't you come by my place and we'll have dinner."
"Oh, no I couldn't impose," he protested politely. Although he was secretly delighted at the invitation. He had been terrified that he'd been boring the poor woman, but the honestness behind her invitation told him that she genuinely enjoyed his company.
"I insist. I won't take no for an answer, so you might as well follow me so that I don't drag you out of here."
He smiled, "Well it seems that I have no choice. But I insist you let me help you cook."
She laughed, a twinkle in her eye. "Do you think I would let you get away with just standing there doing nothing?"
Althenea had a charming little cottage a couple blocks from the pub, with a beautiful garden out front. The garden not only contained flowers, but there was also an herb garden and Giles noticed that a few of the plants were found more commonly in spells than in cooking.
Inside, there were a few more minor details that told him he was in the house of a witch. Various knickknacks, crystals, and candles, that would have seemed only decorations to the untrained eye, but Giles recognized as items of power.
He followed her into the kitchen and she had him set about cutting vegetables.
Trying to politely bring up the subject of witchcraft he confessed, "I'm afraid I wasn't quite honest earlier."
"Oh?" she asked.
"My shop, it's actually an occult store, called The Magic Box. A bit absurd I know. . ."
"Oh! Then do you practice the craft?" she asked.
"Not as such myself. Although I have tried to guide a very talented young witch I know. Actually I was a Watcher."
"I'm sorry dear, I'm not familiar with that term," she confessed.
"Ah yes, I don't suppose you've ever heard of the Slayer?"
"It's sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it."
"The Slayer is a young girl chosen to fight vampires and demons. Sh-"
"Oh yes. I mean I've never heard of her directly, but I've run across many legends of young female warriors who defended their people from all manner of evil. You're saying they are more than legends?"
"Yes, you see. . ." Giles began to explain to her about the Slayer, and the Council and what a Watcher was.
Then he told her the real reason he'd been in California, and then he said her name, Buffy. It seemed ages since he spoken it. Since her death her friends had all tiptoed around her name, as if they could forget the hole she'd left in their lives by not naming her.
With the Council it had all been, "the Slayer this," and "the Slayer that." Even if protocol had not dictated that he refer to her in that way, he would have felt traitorous using her name in front of them. They were not worthy to hear it.
But here, in this small English cottage, with a woman he barely knew, suddenly he could talk about her. About her life, about her death.
From time to time it occurred to him that he was horribly burdening this stranger with his problems, but every time he tried to stop, Althenea would just smile and encourage him to go on.
Dinner was done, and they sat sipping some wine and Giles wiped tears from his eyes.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to abuse your hospitality so horribly."
"Don't be silly Rupert," she said, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "The moment I saw you, I knew you were in pain and that you needed to share it."
"You knew?"
"I read auras," she explained bluntly.
"I find that rather disturbing, but I do thank you, I think. . . I needed that. But I really must be going."
She smiled, got up and to his great surprise hugged him. "Well, I hope you won't be a stranger. I'm sure I'll see you at the pub again. And if you need anything, especially while you're getting settled, feel free to drop by."
"Yes, well, thank you again." he said.
"Besides," she said as he was stepping out the door. "Now I know who to talk to if I need some rare spell ingredients."
He smiled, said his good byes, and walked home.
As soon as he got to the door to his flat, he could hear the phone ringing. Cursing he tried to find his keys, but he still had his old keys from Sunnydale on the ring with the new keys. By the time he got the door open the answering machine had already picked up and he heard a recorded message more than five years old play.
"Uh, hi Giles," came Willow's voice from the machine. "I think you need a new mess-"
He picked up the phone. "Yes, Willow? Sorry about that, I was out for dinner."
"Oh Giles!" she began again, excitedly. "I did it! Well we did it. She's back. We saved her."
"Slow down Willow," he told the hyper young woman. "Tell me what has happened. Who's back?"
"Buffy! She's alive! She's a little frazzled, but you know, a hell dimension will do that to a person." She paused, waiting for him to say something. "Giles? Giles?"
"Uh, yes I'm still here. I. . . I don't know what to say Willow. I'm stunned."
"I know it's so big. It's. . . it's ginormous. I almost can't believe we did it. Except I knew we could do it. We had to do it, to save her. We couldn't leave her, you know. Isn't it wonderful Giles?"
"Uh, yes. I suppose. . . I'll see about getting a flight back." Giles suddenly felt desperate to get off the phone. "I'm sorry Willow, it's late here, and I've had a long day. I need to get some rest."
"Oh! Of course. Well, I guess I'll see you soon. Bye, Giles."
"Good night, Willow."
He hung up the phone, and sat down.
Buffy was alive. He had buried her, mourned her, or at least begun to, and now she was alive. It was too much to hope for, so he thrust the thought aside. He didn't dare let himself believe it incase it wasn't really true.
Besides there was a far more serious matter. Willow. How could she have done this? Oh, he knew there were ways, but they all involved black magic. He thought Willow knew better than to do something like this. Didn't she understand the powers she was opening herself up to?
He had thought she would be the one to lead the others now that Buffy was gone. That she would be the voice of reason. That she would keep them from doing something rash. Of all of them he was the most surprised that she would do something this daring, and yet from her words it was obvious that she'd been a driving force behind it. Willow wasn't one to take credit that wasn't hers.
On the other hand he wasn't surprised that Xander had gone along with this. He thought with his heart, and had no understanding of danger such magic might pose.
Dawn was only a child, and she had lost both her mother and and sister within the space of a few short months. He could hardly blame the girl for grasping at straws.
But what of Anya? She had been around for more than a thousand years. She knew the consequences such magic could have. Surely she knew better? But then Anya had the bad habit of not offering up information. Not to mention that the formerly immortal vengeance demon feared death more than most people. Humanity had been a kind of death sentence on her. Perhaps she simply wanted to know there was a way around it. That death could be cheated.
Spike, well, Spike was evil. He probably had understood the consequences all too well, and allowed the Scoobies to walk into whatever trouble they may have gotten themselves into. Spike would welcome Buffy back no matter how she came back, all to satisfy his sick obsession.
And Tara? She was well versed in the laws that Wiccans had bound themselves to for centuries. Giles had thought there was more sense in the girl than to let herself be bullied by Willow.
Willow. It all came back to her. They never could have done it without the raw power she possessed. Now that Giles knew what had happened, he could see all the whispering behind his back. The months of plotting that had lead up to this monumental mistake.
Mistake? Could he call it that? They had brought Buffy back. Given her another chance at life. Giles loved her as if she were his own daughter.
He couldn't accept it however. Couldn't quite believe it. Finally he realized that his thoughts were just going round in circles. He got up and got ready for bed, even though he knew there was no way he'd be able to sleep that night.
In the morning he'd call a travel agent and get himself tickets back to America. It was time to go home again.