DISCLAIMER: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and the characters contained within are the sole property of Twentieth Century Fox Television, Mutant Enemy, and His Worshipfulness, Joss Whedon. I'm only letting Buffy and her friends have a little harmless fun and excitement. I have nothing, so don't bother suing me.

Giles tightly gripped the wooden stake in his damp palm. His heart pounded heavily in his ears as he slowly pushed open the partially-ajar front door and walked into the old boarding house. The door swung open silently, thumping dully against the wall. Stepping into the dimly-lit foyer, Giles carefully shut the door behind him, trying to make as little noise as possible.

He stood in the meager circle of light cast by the filthy overhead fixture, the edges of the hall cast into darkness. And, the silence was complete, seemingly swallowed by the blackness itself. The librarian moved deeper into the house, his wary eyes seeking out the wooden crate in the far corner of the parlor.

The splintered door still hung loosely on its hinges, the bindings that once held a vampire prisoner lay broken on the floor, along with an ax. With a sinking heart, he saw Buffy's still loaded crossbow laying near the wall. His fury with Quentin Travers threatened once more to overwhelm him and he had to swallow a cry of rage.

Goddamn them all! he screamed to himself. How dare they put Buffy in this kind of danger, knowing she can't defend herself properly!

Avoiding the kitchen, knowing from his previous visit less than an hour before that it held the butchered corpse of one of the assistants, Giles swiftly crossed the hall and entered the study. A fire still burned in the hearth, the crackle of the flames absorbed by the near-vacuum silence of the boarded-up house. A bookcase lay on the floor, its contents strewn over the room, a poker discarded nearby.

His eyes fell upon a black nylon gymbag sitting on a chair, its contents undisturbed. Recognizing it as Buffy's, Giles looked inside, his stomach clenching as he realized that nearly all of her weapons were still here.

With her crossbow in the other room and the rest of her weapons here, he knew she'd be virtually unarmed.

Helpless.

A scream, short and high-pitched, pierced the gloom, making Giles break out in a cold sweat. He whirled, trying to concentrate, to pinpoint the location, but the darkness disoriented him. Was it upstairs? In the basement?

In the next room?

It hadn't sounded like Buffy, but it had been female. Another victim of Kralick perhaps or of the other Council assistant, turned by the insane vampire. Shouldering the gymbag, Giles headed for the stairs. It was his fault Buffy was in this predicament and he was determined to make it up to her, to soothe the sting of his betrayal.

And, if he died trying, then so be it.

He was halfway up the steps when a whisper came to him, so soft he almost missed it.

"Gi-iles. . . "

Giles paused, his hand holding the stake raising in readiness.

"Giles, help me. . . "

"Buffy?" He turned and looked back down into the foyer. The whisper had seemed to come from everywhere, yet nowhere. The old house was playing tricks on him. . .

"Buffy, where are you?"

Silence reigned and Giles was sure he could hear the blood rushing through his veins. He took another step up and winced as the riser creaked.

Another scream raised the hair on the back of his neck, the sound wavering in the still air, ending on a gasping note. Giles recognized the scream of the tortured, he knew from experience the desperate sound of pain.

"Ohh, God. . . he's coming. . . "

Upstairs. The whisper was definitely coming from the second floor, carried to him through the ancient heating ducts set in the ceiling. Taking the steps two at a time, Giles sprinted up to the landing. A long, narrow hallway stretched the entire length of the house, lined up one side and down the other with closed doors. This corridor was lit by a single bare bulb.

One nearby door had been forced open, the wooden frame fractured and jagged. Peering inside, Giles knew the source of the horrifying screams.

Joyce.

Hundreds of snapshots of Joyce Summers lined the tiny room, all taken in varying poses and angles. She was still alive in them, her blue eyes wide and terrified, her mouth obscured by a rag tied around her head.

It made sense now, Buffy coming to this house of horrors, why she was going to finish the Cruciamentum. If Kralick had her mother, the Slayer would walk barefoot through Hell to get her back.

He had a terrible feeling that she was too late.

"Help me, Giles. . . "

Tears of frustration filled his eyes, fogging his glasses. "Where are you, Buffy? I can't find you!"

"Please. . . I can't fight him anymore. . . I can't. . . "

Forcing himself to take a deep calming breath, Giles closed his eyes, shutting out the disturbing rows of photographs. He owed it to Buffy to be strong for her, to not fall to pieces. He owed it to her for the crime he had committed against her in the name of the Council.

"Buffy? Guide me to you. We can do this," he spoke quietly, willing her to hear him and comply.

A gust of wind outside rattled a loose shingle, but Giles blocked it out, focusing instead on the sound of Buffy's voice.

"I'm in a room. . . "

"Where, Buffy? Upstairs?"

"I-I think so. . . "

She sounded closer as Giles walked back into the hallway. He looked down the corridor. The light didn't reach that far and the window had been bricked up, like all the others, so it was pitch-black down there. Swallowing over the lump in his throat, Giles moved on silent feet towards the sound of Buffy's voice.

"Are you hurt?"

"N-no, Giles, hurry, I can hear him!"

Giles paused, all of his senses on alert, but he heard nothing. He continued on, opening each door and peering inside. Empty, each and every one, until he had reached the end of the hallway and only one remained.

With a shaking hand, Giles grasped the brass knob and twisted. The door opened silently and he was surprised to see that this room's windows hadn't been covered up. The glow from the streetlights filled the room and Giles could see Buffy's tiny figure curled on the dilapidated bed, her arms tied behind her.

Relief washed through him and he dropped the gymbag to the floor and rushed to her side. "Oh, thank God you're all right! Kralick, he did this?"

Buffy was sobbing silently as she strained against her bonds. "Giles, he has my mother!"

"I know, I know. Do you know where he's keeping her? In the basement?"

"I-I think so. . . hurry, Giles, there isn't much time."

Giles had to lean over her to reach her wrists and he felt her shift, her body brushing against his, one leg curling around his thigh. If he hadn't been so panicked, he would've wondered at the blatant sensuality of her action.

"Can you move your arms back a little? I can't reach. . . "

"Anything for you, Giles. . . "

Giles froze as Buffy whispered the words, her lips so near his ear. It wasn't so much the sound as the fact that no breath issued from her mouth. And then he became aware of the utter chill coming off her body. His fingertips brushed the skin of her arms, so soft, like silk, but with a bone-deep cold that only came with the death of the body.

Slowly, Giles pulled away, his horrified gaze searching out hers. Buffy was smiling up at him, the light filtering through the dirty window accentuating her pale beauty.

Her earlier injuries were gone; the bruise that had marred her forehead replaced by perfect, white skin. Her hair, platinum in the dim light, tumbled loose around her shoulders and her green eyes were beginning to glow with an unholy light.

"Oh. . . sweet Jesus. . . "

With a tug, Buffy's hands came free from her phony bondage. Her smile, curving sweetly on lips stained red, grew malicious. "Gi-iles. . . for a man as smart as you are, you can be so very stupid."

Stumbling back, Giles fumbled for the wooden stake he had stuck in the pocket of his tweed blazer, his mind screaming incoherently. He dropped the stake and it rolled under the bed. Buffy laughed as she sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress. She rubbed her wrists absently as she watched the terrified librarian crouch by the gymbag, rummaging feverishly through its contents.

"I understand everything now. How come you never told me, Giles? That eternal life was such a rush." She stood up and slowly glided towards him, graceful even in baggy overalls and cross-trainers.

Finding what he sought, Giles whirled on her, the wooden cross held at arm's length. "Back off!"

Swifter than the eye could follow, Buffy morphed into her demon's true face, her eyes glowing yellow and fangs flashing dangerously. She flinched from the cross, averting her eyes from it but not from the man at her feet.

"Come on, Giles, don't play rough."

Crawling backwards, Giles tried to think past the agony twisting his heart. Not his Buffy, his Slayer, the young woman he had given his life to in service.

Oh, God, not my Buffy!

"I bet this isn't in the Slayer's handbook, huh, Giles?" she said, stalking closer. "What does the Council recommend in cases like this?"

"Oh, Buffy. . . "

"Do you think Angel will still like me? Maybe I can steal his soul again and we can live happily ever after. After tonight, I think I deserve it."

Giles was close to the door now and Buffy had made no move to halt his progress. He had a sudden hopeful thought that maybe she had retained enough of her humanity and perhaps she could be reasoned with. "Angel. . . Buffy, the curse! Willow could try. . . "

"Fuck the curse, Giles! I'm not living for the rest of time with a guilty conscience! There will be no curse and as for Willow, well, I've always wondered what she tastes like," Buffy growled, the beast coming through in her voice.

Hope died along with his resolve. He had failed her, led her down this path of certain doom and he knew his duty. Buffy, more than a year ago, had made him swear that if she should ever be turned, he would destroy her as soon as possible. Before she killed any of her friends or family.

But, knowing his duty and performing it were two entirely different things. The vampire before him sensed his indecision and she grinned in triumph as she let her face slip back into its human guise.

Giles' hand shook violently as Buffy's beautiful face once more gazed down at him. Two fat tears fell down her cheeks and she let her bottom lip tremble. "Giles, I was so frightened! I couldn't fight him off, he was so strong and. . . and I was helpless! You made me helpless. . . "

"I know! Oh, Buffy, if I could take it back, I'm so sorry! So very, very sorry. . . " the librarian sobbed, the hand holding the cross dipping slightly. Her eyes followed his hand, a malevolent smile twisting her lips.

"You drugged me. You stuck a needle in me and made me weak."

"I had no idea! They said it would make you a better Slayer!"

"It made me dead, Giles."

He looked up at her, startled at her proximity. She was close enough to grab him and he raised the cross again.

With a snarl, Buffy lashed out with her foot, kicking the cross from his hand. Giles cried out as he heard the bones in his wrist crack from the force of her blow. The cross sailed away and she laughed.

Scrambling to his feet, Giles dodged Buffy's lunge and ran out into the dark hallway. Buffy darted after him.

The librarian didn't make it far. Buffy easily caught up and with a well-aimed kick to the back of his thigh, he went sprawling into the wall. Before he could regain his feet, she was on him.

Grabbing him by the neck, Buffy slammed Giles onto his back, moving to straddle his chest. He screamed as she tightened her knees on him, feeling the crack of ribs. The little blonde giggled as she sank a hand into his hair and thumped his head into the wooden floor.

"Behave, now, Rupert, or I'm gonna make this hurt!"

Reaching up, he wrapped his hands around her neck, even though he knew that it couldn't harm a creature who didn't draw breath.

She batted away his hands effortlessly. "Stop that! Come on, Giles, this could be fun. I know you've always wanted me," she whispered as she slithered down his body, grinding herself against his pelvis. Holding his head firm, she bent down and brushed her lips over his, as soft as a feather. He tried to turn away, but she only giggled and jerked him back into place. Once again she touched her lips to his, her tongue tracing a cool, moist path over his bottom lip.

To his dismay, Giles was responding to the kiss, his body betraying him. Buffy rocked on him, her mouth now firmly attached to his, her tongue thrusting into his mouth. He could taste the coppery tang of her dinner still lingering on her tongue, but even that didn't deter his growing passion. In the back of his mind, the hazy thought that he might be tasting the blood of her mother surfaced and was just as quickly discarded.

Buffy was running gentle fingers through his thinning hair, her lower body undulating on his erection, her lips teasing his, her tongue darting out to lick at the corners. Giles raised his hands and ran them over her slender back, feeling her arch into his touch.

Joyce screamed again, a quaver of madness lurking around the edges and Giles stiffened. With a cry of self-loathing, he shoved Buffy off of him and rose shakily to his feet, his good hand pressing to his sore ribs.

With a glare of pure hatred, Buffy rose to her feet, her eyes glittering dangerously. "You'd do best not to spurn me, Watcher. I can make your death last a very long time."

"You'll have to kill me, Buffy, before I fall for your wicked game."

She smiled, her vampire façade once more in place. "Fine. I will."

Before he could duck, she kicked out with her foot, catching him on the temple. As the world went black, Giles heard Buffy's demented laugh echoing in his ears.

When Giles came to, he was surprised to find that he was still alive. He was tied to a wooden, straight-back chair and when he attempted moving his arms and legs, he found the bonds to be unbreakable.

"Well, lookee who's awake. Watcher Man. Hey, Watcher Man, check it out," Zachary Kralick crouched down beside him, his gameface grotesque in the dim light of what looked to Giles to be the basement.

Turning his head in the direction the vampire indicated, Giles felt bile rise in his throat, hot and bitter, and he choked.

Buffy, her back to him, was straddling her mother's corpse, still tied to a chair identical to the one in which he sat. She was feeding noisily and Giles could see that she hadn't bothered to bite the neck. Instead, from his vantage point, he could see that most of Joyce's face and neck had been torn away and Buffy was greedily devouring the blood pouring from the gaping wounds.

"She's a nasty girl, she is. I like her. Never had myself a Slayer before; I hear they're pretty wild," Kralick said as he avidly watched Buffy. He turned to Giles, noting the man's sickened expression. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you? I've heard rumors about the Slayer and her Watcher, you know. Kinky rumors."

"Go to hell, you bloody pillock," Giles snarled.

"Oh, hey, why so testy? Oh, I see! You have a problem with that." He pointed towards Buffy. "It's her mother, for pity's sake! If you could've heard the way she was shrieking earlier, you would've ripped her face off too. Ah, you should've been here! The sound her flesh made when Buffy bit off that first chunk. . . music to my ears, man. And, the best part? She was still alive!"

Giles closed his eyes as the horror washed through him. He swallowed convulsively as the scent of blood reached his nostrils.

"Yeah, man, she died knowing her little girl, the baby she gave birth to eighteen years ago this very night, was sucking the life right out of her. A truly beautiful moment."

With a satisfied sigh, Buffy slid off of Joyce's lap, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She smiled at Giles with all the innocence of a five-year-old. "Oh, goody, you're awake. Are you ready to play, Giles?"

"Oh, God. . . " He was staring at Joyce's ravaged body, his head swimming, disoriented from the stench of death.

"Hey, baby, you have blood all over you. You are one messy eater," Kralick said as he touched a smear of crimson on her cheek.

Her attention diverted, Buffy reached up and unfastened her overalls, letting the denim garment pool at her feet. She stood before Giles and Kralick in nothing more than a tight pastel-blue tee-shirt and a pair of tiny white panties. "Why don't you lick it off me?" she teased, her hands reaching up to tease her already-hard nipples.

Growling in lust, Kralick grabbed Buffy and slammed her into the opposite wall. He wasted little time. Tangling his fingers in the thin nylon, he ripped her panties off and jerked one leg up to his waist. Unfastening his pants and pulling out his cock, Kralick rammed into Buffy. She wailed in pain and ecstasy as he pounded into her, using his tongue to lick up the spilled blood on her face and chest.

Giles closed his eyes tightly, tugging at his bonds, willing them to give way. If he could free himself before Buffy and Kralick finished their inhuman mating. . .

He quickly found that his injured wrist was actually tied looser than the other and it had fallen numb, so he tried to force it free.

Kralick had pushed Buffy's shirt up and he had sunk his fangs into the soft flesh of one breast and Buffy was moaning as the vampire sucked greedily. She was clutching his broad shoulders and her head was thrown back, eyes closed and lips parted slightly.

Giles opened his eyes, staring at the bizarre scene. He found it so unreal to look at Buffy when she was still in her human guise, as she was now, knowing that she was forever lost to him.

So very beautiful. . . like an innocent child in the body of a woman. . .

Shaking away his thoughts, Giles renewed his efforts, not bothering to hide a grimace of pain as his wrist slipped free. Quickly, he untied the ropes and looked for a weapon.

Nothing.

His heart sinking, he glanced back at the coupled vampires. It wouldn't be long now, unless Kralick was planning on pounding Buffy through the wall. His gaze fell on the floor underneath Joyce's chair and he saw one of Buffy's wooden stakes lying in a pool of blood. He realized she must've dropped it trying to rescue her mother, before being captured by Kralick.

Inching forward on silent feet, Giles stooped and grabbed the stake, grimacing as it nearly slipped out of his hand. Tightening his grip on the sticky weapon, he advanced on the oblivious lovers.

Kralick had finished and was fastening his pants. He took a step back and Buffy leaned against the wall. Giles raised his hand and said a silent prayer before slamming the stake into Kralick's back.

With an echoing shriek, the vampire exploded into a cloud of red-tinged ash. As it settled to the floor, Giles found himself face to face with an enraged Buffy. With a howl, she leaped at him, only to be knocked aside by his hard right hook. She hit the wall and crumpled to the ground. Giles stooped and drew back his arm, preparing to drive the stake into her heart, but Buffy struck at him, her fist plowing into his nose. Blood gushed freely down the librarian's face as he fell back.

"You bastard! I'm going to rip your head off and suck it dry!" she screamed as she scrambled to her feet.

"Perhaps, but I'm not going to stop until I wipe you from the face of the earth, demon!" Giles said, coughing a little on the blood draining into his throat.

She lunged for him again, fangs bared in gleeful rage. Giles sidestepped her, paying for it a second later when Buffy's foot smashed into the base of his spine.

Thankfully, it was just a glancing blow. Giles punched her in the face, sending her flying back into Joyce's chair, knocking it over. "Not only am I going to kill you, I'm going to slaughter every one of the Slayer bitch's stupid friends! The last thing they feel is going to be me ripping out their hearts!" Buffy snarled. "But, you first."

Taking a step back, Giles held out his arms. "Take your best shot."

Buffy paused for a moment, but the bloodlust was too strong and she hurtled towards him. With a sweep of his leg, Giles took her off balance and they both fell to their knees. Raising the wooden stake, Giles pressed it to her heart.

For endless seconds, they stared at each other. Slowly, Buffy's gameface faded and her eyes filled with tears. Giles swallowed tightly as he gazed into her lovely green eyes and it was then that knew that some part of Buffy, his Buffy, still dwelled beneath the surface. He could almost feel her struggling against the demon claiming her body.

"Do it!" Buffy whispered harshly, wrapping both hands around his, forcing the stake closer to her heart.

Giles cradled her in his arms, his tears spilling unheeded. "I'll never forget you, my love. You were the greatest Slayer to have ever lived."

Her face was serene and she smiled tremulously. "Do it, Giles, before it's too late."

With a wracking sob, Giles, with Buffy's help, pushed the stake deep into her breast. The Slayer looked up at him and in the seconds before her body disintegrated, he could've sworn he saw her lips move.

"Thank you. . . "

The End