Quentin Travers replaced the phone into its cradle slowly, stunned at the news he had just heard. He couldn't believe that she was dead, she had somehow seemed so invincible, outliving most slayers by years. She had aggravated him beyond belief but he knew her worth, and knew the world was poorer and certainly less safe with her passage. He wasn't even sure if another slayer would be called. There was no precedence for a slayer dying twice. If one wasn't called, that only left Faith, locked up in a Los Angeles prison, still potentially a rogue. Who would defend against the Hellmouth now?
Quentin thought about Buffy. God, she'd been a piece of work. He recalled his last visit to Sunnydale, and how she had completely turned the tables on him. Even through his humiliation, he could see how magnificent she was and he had begun to understand on that day why Rupert had fallen under her spell. His eyebrows rose at the thought that between the two of them and the rest of their ragtag team, they had killed a god. He grudgingly had to admit that Rupert and Buffy had probably been the best slayer/watcher team on record. He might not have liked the way they both threw convention to the wind, and completely disregarded centuries of dogma, but he was not blind to their ultimate effectiveness.
He wondered how much of that had been Buffy, and how much of it had been Rupert. If there were a new slayer, would Rupert be able to repeat history and help create another unbeatable slayer? Would it be fair to ask it of him? He knew Rupert was hurting; he had not been able to find words to comfort the man. In spite of his concern for Rupert, it was overshadowed by his concern for the world. He repeated the thought, who would protect the world against the Hellmouth, now that Buffy was gone?
-----
Giles had never felt so weary. He didn't know a person could be this weary and still be alive. A part of him wished he wasn't. A part of him felt that he should have died with her, or in her place. The world needed her alive, he needed her alive. Without her, he was empty and useless. They had buried her yesterday. He had been saddened by how few people were there, considering she had laid herself open to death countless of times for every person in Sunnydale, every person in the world, for that matter. And yet, so few had come to grieve. Those that were there had been inconsolable. There was nothing they could say to each other to make it better, to make any of it all right. The depth of her loss left a galaxy sized hole in their hearts, their minds, and their future. They had all quietly left after the coffin was lowered into the ground. Giles had been unable, still, to contact Hank Summers and felt his confusion once again as to what to do with Dawn. He had sent her home with Tara and Willow at her request. He felt he owed it to Buffy to take care of her, he was aware she might still be in danger. He wasn't sure if all the Byzantium Knights had been killed, or if there were more who might still come after her. He knew he had no legal rights to her, and he could imagine the reaction if he simply took her home to live with him. She'd be taken away in no time, and put in foster care, and the thought of Dawn dealing with that was unacceptable.
He had taken care of all the funeral arrangements, locking himself away behind the chores and decision-making that had to be done. Now the tasks were through, including the call to the Watcher's Council, and as he sat on the couch he felt empty, barren, his eyes hot and dry. God, he wanted her back. He wanted her back so badly he ached in every bone in his body. There was a knock on his door, and his heart cruelly leaped at the thought that it might be her. He drew in a rasping breath and went to answer it. Spike stood there, his eyes reddened, looking paler than he usually did. Giles invited him in without hesitation. He didn't care if Spike was planning on killing him, a part of him would welcome it. Spike came in and threw himself on the opposite end of the couch from Giles, closing his eyes.
The minutes passed, the two of them taking an odd comfort from the other's presence. Spike opened his eyes, "We have to get her back." Giles turned his head to look at Spike, too weary to respond. Spike continued, "We have to find a resurrection spell, or something to bring her back. We can do the one Dawn tried."
Giles spoke, "There isn't one, not one that would bring her back whole."
"How do you know? Have you even looked?"
Giles gestured to his apartment, and Spike took a look around for the first time since he had arrived. There were books everywhere. Not a single book was still on the shelf. They lay in haphazard piles across the living room, in piles, the table littered with open tomes.
"How about the books at the Shop?" Spike spoke in insistent tones.
Giles shook his head wearily. "Nothing."
"How about Angel, have you asked him?"
Giles didn't respond. He had thought about calling Angel but just the thought made his sick to his stomach. He knew it wasn't rational, nothing he was feeling was rational, but he thought he would rather have Buffy be dead than be alive thanks to Angel. Losing Buffy had destroyed his ability to lock any of his feelings away. Just the thought that Angel had slept with her, kissed her, touched her body, and been the recipient of such love from her made him want to put a stake through Angel's heart. He hated that it made him feel that Buffy had somehow been more Angel's than his.
Spike watched Giles, watching the emotions playing over his face. Touched against his will, he stayed silent, guessing the answer. He had spent too much time hating Angel himself to not see it clearly in Giles' face.
"Do you want me to patrol?"
Giles looked at Spike, nodding, "Please." He spoke softly. He had no idea how long they might depend on Spike with Buffy gone, but he knew that Spike was their best bet to keep the demon population under control, Buffy's death now a glowing neon light of welcome to the creatures of the night, lured by the Hellmouth. Spike nodded in response, got up and left.
-----
After he found out, Angel had immediately left, needing to be alone. He and Buffy had been apart for a long time now, but he had never stopped loving her, and based on her kiss, the evening of her mother's funeral, he believed she still had longed for him as he still longed for her. He had known, in his mind, that he could never touch her again, because of his curse. He was realizing now that somehow, a piece of him had always thought that they would find a way to be together. To know now that he never would be able to touch her again ripped him in half, taking away his hope for any future happiness. Part of him recognized that having that dream had kept him moving forward, had kept him alive, putting one foot in front of the other, when his burden felt too heavy to bear.
He had briefly thought about calling Giles. He missed, still, the friendship they had developed before Angelus had returned. Angel knew that he had relinquished all rights to that friendship when the demon inside him had come fully alive, relishing in the dark torture of Giles and all that he held dear. Giles had tolerated him being around, barely, when he returned, soul intact, for Buffy's sake, but the friendship had been lost. Angel respected Giles more than anyone he knew. Even Angelus respected him. Angel hated him a little too, that he had gotten to be a part of Buffy's life, when he, Angel, could not. He couldn't believe she was dead. If Willow hadn't come down herself, and if he hadn't seen her face, he would not believe it. But, Willow could not be that cruel, to make a jest like that. There had to be a way……he pushed the forbidden thought away. It came back, haunting him. There had to be a way to bring her back. He stood in the night, thinking hard, letting thoughts and ideas run threw his head, dismissing most of them immediately. He looked up, a determined look on his face and he started to stride to the karaoke bar, wanting to talk with The Host.
He pushed the door to the bar open, looking for and then locating his green friend. He was up front, watching a very buxom blond belt out Hello Dolly from the stage. Angel walked up to him, The Host saw him, and gestured him to take a seat, shushing him with a finger over his lips. Angel impatiently sat there waiting for the song to be over. The woman came up to The Host and he spoke with her for a few minutes, a look of intense concentration on her face as she took in his words. She nodded her head contemplatively and swung off. The Host turned his attention to Angel.
"I heard, I'm sorry."
"How the hell did you hear it already? I just found out."
"News like that travels fast."
"How do I get her back?" Angel asked quickly, before he could think better of the words he spoke. The Host raised his eyebrows, staring at Angel.
"Go sing. Let me see what I see."
Angel sighed, reaching for the song list. He picked a Barry Manilow song, and went up on stage to sing it, badly. The Host winced, both at the painful tones wafting his way and at what he saw and would need to say. Angel put the microphone away and walked back to the table demanding an answer.
"You can't bring her back." Angel's mouth tightened, and he started to speak. The Host spoke first. "Wait, I didn't say she couldn't come back, I said, you, can't bring her back."
"I don't understand."
The Host paused. "I saw a possible future, one with the slayer back, but someone else brought her back, not you."
"Who."
"I'm not sure. I just saw images. I saw a lot of books, green eyes and glasses. I saw red roses." He stopped, looking perplexed, "and I saw the Tower of London. Does that mean something to you?"
Angel closed his eyes. "Yes."
"But, I'm guessing this isn't a good thing?"
"No, it's not that, he was her Watcher. It's just……" Angel didn't complete his sentence, sick at heart, his eyes filled with the vision of Buffy back alive, thanking Giles, being grateful to Giles, wanting to show just how grateful she was. Angel shook his head, banishing the vision from his head. "I have to think."
"What's to think about? Call him, have him come down, have him sing for me." Without responding Angel stood up quickly, knocking his chair down and sped from the bar. He needed to feel the night air around him.
The Host watched him leave, knowing full well what Angel was thinking. Honestly, he liked the guy, but could he be more of a drama queen? He wondered if Angel would call this Watcher. He figured Angel would get around to it after some serious brooding. He wasn't a bad guy. He felt back to what he had seen while Angel had been singing. He felt a tug, a connection with this Watcher that made no sense. He knew that the Watcher had to be told. He was already running out of time. He reached for his cell phone and started to make a few calls.
-----
Giles had not moved from the couch. He didn't even make the effort to drink; he knew there wasn't enough liquor in the world to make a difference. The phone rang, and he ignored it. It rang six times and then the answering machine took over. A voice he didn't recognize spoke, "Watcher, I need to speak with you. I…", there was a pause, "this is a hard message to leave on an answering machine, where the hell are you?" Another pause ensued, and the answering machine thinking its job was done clicked off. The phone started to ring again, the answering machine once again picking up after the sixth ring. "It's about the slayer, there might be a chance, probably extremely remote, that there may be a way to fix this. Well, call me at…" Giles didn't know he could move so fast. He picked the phone up, "Hello, I'm here, what do you mean, fix this?"
"Ah, you are there. Allow me to introduce myself, I am The Host…."
"Never mind that, what did you mean?"
"I can't tell you if you don't let me speak."
"I'm sorry," Giles clenched his teeth so tightly he was surprised he didn't break a tooth. "Pray continue."
"Thank you." There was a pause. Giles sat there, holding the phone so tightly his hand hurt, wanting to reach inside the receiver and throttle his caller. He remained silent. "Yes, well, again, I am The Host. I run a karaoke bar in Los Angeles, it is a club for members only, with a mostly demon clientele. Perhaps Angel has mentioned it?"
"No."
"Have you heard from Angel recently?"
"No."
"Sounds like you know Angel well, you both have a gift for witty repartee." The Host sighed, guessing his humor was falling on deaf ears. "He came in earlier after he had received the news about the slayer. He didn't take it well. What was her name, by the way?"
"Buffy."
"Yes, well, as much as I hate to talk about myself…," the Host grinned at that, god, he broke himself up. "I do a certain kind of fortune telling in my line of business. You get up and sing, and I can tell your future, or part of it, or one of several."
Giles was in torment waiting for this pillock to get to his point. He couldn't resist prompting, "And…?"
"So, I saw something tonight, a possible future that contained Buffy, back from the grave, so to speak." He continued in a droll tone, "Angel wasn't exactly thrilled to find out that you were the one, in that possible future who brought her back."
"I…..I brought….I was able to bring her back? How…..what did I do….?" Giles stammered, overcome at the mere possibility, his body energized beyond belief.
"So, I figure I'd give you a call." The Host continued, ignoring Giles' stuttered questions. "I'm thinking Angel will call you sooner or later but time is running out. A person's essence starts to deteriorate within days. I can't tell you anything else unless you come down here and sing for me."
Giles had a bizarre thought that this was some cruel practical joke. Even in the midst of his surreal existence, the thought of singing in a karaoke bar in an attempt to bring Buffy back from beyond the grave seemed too much to believe. He sat there holding the phone.
The Host looked at the phone tapping it, "Hello? Anybody there?"
That got a reaction. Giles needed so desperately to believe in something, even something as bizarre as this. "Where are you? Can I come now?"
"No, we're closed now, I just finally tracked you down. Believe it or not, you're a hard man to find. I had to pull in a lot of favors tonight."
"Why did you call? Not that I'm not grateful, but why did you bother?
What does any of this have to do with you?"
"Well, the truth of it is that I'm just a big softie, and I love happy endings."
Giles had no response to that. He smiled a small smile, and then his face hardened when he realized that Angel hadn't called him to tell him that there was a chance to bring Buffy back. He wondered if their places had been reversed if he would have called Angel. He pushed that thought away for the moment. "When do you open tomorrow?"
"8:00 PM."
"How do I get there?"
Giles wrote down the instructions. "I'll be there." He hung up the phone. He knew he shouldn't hope too much but he couldn't help it. He realized he was hungry and he moved into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. He couldn't remember the last real meal he'd eaten. He deliberated whether he should tell the rest of the gang about this possibility, however remote, and decided that he must. They had a right to be a part of this. Besides, he wanted them with him when he found out. He reached for the phone and in between mouthfuls he called Willow and Xander, asking them to meet at his apartment at 6:00 PM tomorrow. Giles wondered if he could get a message to Spike and decided he would leave a message for him on his door the next evening. He stepped lightly up the stairs, and despite the adrenaline racing through his body, fell quickly and deeply asleep for the first time since Buffy had died.
-----
The gang assembled at Giles' apartment, the level of excitement escalating with the arrival of each party. They had all slept well, just the thought of doing something bringing a needed direction. Dawn walked over to Giles and wrapped her arms around him and started to cry. He hugged her in return, patting her back, just letting her cry. "Is it possible?" She struggled to speak between her sobbing breaths. "Can we really get her back? Will she be normal?"
"I don't know, Dawn. I don't know anything except what I have told you. That is why we have to go down to Los Angeles, to see if there is anything we can do, and what the risks are."
Xander spoke up, "I don't care what the risks are; I'll do anything it takes to get Buffy back." He glared defiantly at the group.
Giles smiled at him, "I know you would, we all would. I didn't mean risks to us. I meant risks to Buffy. She wouldn't want to come back if it meant she were less than whole, or less than human. We need more information, and I haven't found anything in my books. I need to talk with this Host person."
The gang looked around his apartment, noticing, as Spike had last night, that it looked like a hurricane had gone through it. They realized that he must have been researching non-stop since Buffy died to have gone through all those books. They all turned to look at Giles. Willow walked over to him, and kissed him on the cheek. "Buffy was…we all are, so lucky to have you as a part of our lives." She looked at him lovingly. He looked down, not trusting to speak, knowing his voice would betray the rush of emotion her words had evoked in him. He shifted his feet, and then looked up, flashing her a smile, sharing it with them all.
"Let's go." They were taking Xander's van, as Giles' car wouldn't accommodate them all. Giles taped a message for Spike on the door in case he came by and they left.