Giles was sitting at his desk, gazing off into space, a cup of Earl Grey sitting forgotten at his elbow. So engrossed was he in his own thoughts, he didn't hear the soft click of high heels behind him.

"Rupert?"

Startled, he turned around, narrowly avoiding sending the teacup crashing to the floor. "Oh!"

Billie Fraser, Sunnydale High's principal, smiled apologetically. "Goodness, Rupert, I'm sorry! I didn't intend to startle you."

"N-no, you didn't. Honestly." He jumped to his feet and beckoned her into the room. "Please, Mrs. Fraser, come in. May I interest you in a cup of tea?"

The principal stepped into the cluttered office. "No, thank you."

Giles sat back down at his desk as Mrs. Fraser took a seat on the battered leather sofa in the corner. "Rupert, will you be attending the City Council meeting tomorrow morning?"

He nodded, perplexed by the question. For the past six months, the City Council meetings, held on every second Tuesday, were deemed mandatory. They were largely unproductive, serving only to upset the remaining citizens of Sunnydale and causing them to rail against the lack of action towards the vampire infestation.

The all-morning meetings had ultimately resulted in school being closed for the day, although the students would've rather been in class instead of the boring meeting. Giles hated them with a passion, but grudgingly attended.

"Of course. Is something wrong?"

The older woman smiled tiredly as she absently smoothed a crease in her suit jacket. "I wanted to tell you first, since you understand, perhaps better than any of us, what this could possibly mean."

Giles leaned forward, his blue eyes fastened on her face. "Billie, what is it?"

"The county school board has decided to close Sunnydale High School. Permanently, effective this coming Monday. The seniors will be given credit for the rest of the year and their diplomas. Everyone else. . . well, they'll be making other arrangements."

Stunned, Giles stared at her, Oz's earlier words coming back to him. He guessed that this time the rumor was true. "My God. . . "

Mrs. Fraser blinked back tears as she slowly nodded. "It will be announced at the Council meeting in the morning. You're the only one of the faculty I intend to tell. I hope you understand."

Giles rose to his feet and strode over to the window overlooking the main room of the library. "What was the school board's reasoning? There are over 150 students in the high school and over two hundred fifty more in the lower grades. There are other schools in the surrounding counties that are as small, if not more so!"

The principal looked down at her plump hands, folded demurely in her lap. "But, not with Sunnydale's mortality rate. Or severely depressed economy. Face it, Rupert, this town is dying. This was inevitable."

"But, the California Board of Edu. . . " he started, turning to face the woman who had assumed the head position of the school after the last principal, Robert Flutie, had been murdered by vampires, over a year ago.

"Has slashed financial support to the point where we can no longer function as an viable institution of learning. Rupert, it's for the best. Hopefully, it will give our citizens the incentive to leave Sunnydale."

Mrs. Fraser rose gracefully and headed for the door. She paused and looked back at the stunned librarian. "If I were you, I would pack my bags and go right back to Britain.

"And, never, ever look back."

Giles didn't answer as she left him.

"If only it were that easy. If only."

Buffy was in the shower when Giles returned to the apartment. Relieved that she was safe and at home, he loosened his tie and slumped down on the couch. The television was on, the volume turned down very low, a Bugs Bunny cartoon flitting spastically across the screen. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to will away the dread that was filling his soul.

"Hey! You're home early!"

Rolling his head in the direction of Buffy's voice, Giles saw the Slayer bounce down the stairs, an uncharacteristic smile on her flushed face. A towel was wrapped her head and she was dressed in shorts and a skimpy tank. "You're not."

She paused at the foot of the stairs, trying to figure out if he was teasing or serious. "I know. I'm sorry, I should've called, I guess. . . "

Giles smiled, not intending to hurt her feelings. "Angel did."

"He did?" The librarian could almost see the gears turning as she wondered how much to tell him.

"Yes. It was early, about six o'clock this morning. He said you'd been injured last night and needed the uninterrupted sleep."

The naked look of longing on Buffy's face shouted out to Giles that her hours with Angel hadn't been spent sleeping. She slowly walked down the rest of the stairs, her expression wary. "Are you angry with me?"

Giles shook his head and patted the couch beside him. "I do wish you had called earlier, because I do worry, but I don't begrudge you your. . . comfort. I trust he treated you well?"

Buffy sat next to him, her face flaming in embarrassment at the question. "Um, yeah. Very well."

The librarian turned pink as his own words sank in. "Oh, Buffy! I didn't mean that to sound as if I was prying! Or perverted. . . "

Laying her hand on his arm, the Slayer smiled. "Hey, Jeeves, it's okay. I know what you meant. Thanks for caring."

She looked so young sitting there that Giles' heart went out to her. Impulsively, he wrapped her in a bear hug, laying his cheek against hers. "You're a good girl, Buffy Summers. I'm so thankful that you've come into my life."

Buffy swallowed past the painful lump that formed in her throat. She threw herself into Giles' embrace, burying her face in the warm crook of his neck. The novelty of actually being wanted in someone's life was beginning to grow on her. From the very beginning, Giles had welcomed her with open arms, even after she had been a royal bitch to him on her first night in Sunnydale. He had placed his faith in Buffy the Slayer, then in Buffy the person, patiently waiting out her arrogance and skepticism.

Waiting for her to open her heart.

Giles was the closest thing she had to a father and she adored him with every fiber of her being.

Gently extracting himself from Buffy's arms, Giles chuckled softly. "Aren't we a pair? Sappy and sentimental, hardly befitting a Watcher and his Slayer."

"Your Council would have a cow," Buffy added, her smile lighting up her green eyes.

"Yes, well, that would probably be beneficial. Have you eaten yet?" he asked as he got up from the sofa. Buffy swung her legs up into the newly-vacated spot and stretched out. She wiggled her bare toes and frowned. Polish. . . it had been a long time. . .

"Um, yeah, I'm famished. I haven't, um, eaten since last night." She blushed again as her mind took a definitely naughty turn. Angel. . .

Giles suppressed a smile at the wistful sound in her voice. The child was well and truly in love. He had his concerns over her choice of lover, but it just proved the capriciousness of romance. Even he had a hard time looking at the Slayer and the vampire and not recognizing the pure perfection of their relationship.

Giles puttered in the kitchen, taking out the ingredients for homemade spaghetti sauce, Buffy's favorite. From the day Angel had laid eyes on Buffy, his feelings were displayed for all to see. Love, lust, need; all were reflected in his fathomless black eyes, which all but ate Buffy up whenever they were in a room together. It would've taken a woman a hell of a lot stronger than Buffy Summers to resist Angel.

Buffy went back upstairs while Giles started dinner. She pulled the towel from her head, letting her damp hair fall free. After tossing the towel over the towel rack, she walked to the closet and opened the door. Her duffel bag was stored on the top shelf and she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach it. Dragging it to the bed, she sat down and opened it.

The few belongings that she had managed to hang on to rested in the bottom. One by one, she pulled them out and arranged them on the bed.

First, a small scrapbook, given to her by her mother when she was thirteen. Carefully turning the pages, Buffy smiled as the memories of a life long gone passed her eyes. A pink announcement in the shape of a bootie heralded the arrival of Buffy Anne Summers, 6 pounds 4 ounces, on January 19, 1981. Kindergarten diploma. Newspaper clippings from her first figure skating competition. Report cards. And pictures.

Lots and lots of pictures.

Those Buffy skimmed over, the memories they evoked still causing a raw, almost physical, pain. But, when she reached the last page, she paused, staring down at the final photograph.

Christmas, 1995. One of the last photos she remembered being taken, only a couple of months before her parents were murdered.

Buffy sat on the sofa, sandwiched between her attractive parents, looking every inch the sweet, spoiled little girl she was.

A Christmas tree sparkled in the corner, throwing multicolored light on their happy faces. On her lap, she held Truffles, the chocolate Persian kitten that had been waiting for her under the tree, just one of dozens of gifts she had received that morning.

The vampires that had attacked her parents had killed Truffles too.

Buffy closed her eyes tightly, blotting out the vision of what they had done to the helpless cat.

When she opened them again, she laid aside the scrapbook, running her fingers lightly over the pink flowered cover with the stenciled logo "Buffy's Book of Dreams". Her mother had been fanciful whenever it came to her only child.

The next item she picked up was a small wooden jewelry box, pale gold wood with mother-of-pearl inlay. Hank Summers had found the pretty box on one of his business trips to Japan. He had returned late from the trip, after Buffy had already gone to bed, but was so eager to see her excitement that he woke her up to give her the gift. Buffy had squealed happily, jumping out of bed to put her jewelry in it and find the perfect place on her dresser to set it.

The box was empty now with the exception of two pair of tiny silver hoop earrings. Lovingly, Buffy closed the lid and put it aside.

"Mr. Gordo, long time, no see." A stuffed pink pig looked up at her from his perch on top of the duffel.

She continued to dig in the bag, looking for more reminders of her lost childhood.

Giles backed silently down the stairs, hoping that Buffy wouldn't hear him and know that he had been watching her. He pulled his glasses off and wiped a shaking hand over his face, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall.

He realized, better than most, how deep Buffy's sorrow ran, but to be confronted with the raw grief of a hurting child was almost more than he could bear. As he went back to the kitchen, hoping to lose himself in the comforting actions of cooking, he replayed the scene he had just witnessed. Buffy's fingers, trembling as they tenderly caressed each and every item spread out before her. The soft, pensive sound of her voice as she talked to the comical pink pig. The glitter of tears sliding down her cheeks.

Again, he vowed to himself to do everything in his power to make her life a secure, happy one. He couldn't bring back her parents, he couldn't change the fact that it was her destiny to fight evil, but he, along with Angel, Oz and Larry, would provide Buffy with the support system she so desperately needed.

"Aww, Giles, do we have to go?" Buffy whined as she twirled spaghetti around her fork. With the exception of slightly puffy eyes, she looked normal. She'd had a lot of practice at hiding her deepest emotions.

"The meetings are mandatory, Buffy, you know that."

"I know, but what good do they do? I could use that time to catch up on sleep." She smirked around her mouthful of pasta.

Giles, having already finished his plate of spaghetti, sipped red wine and watched Buffy polish off her second helping. He was pleased to see her eating more. When she had first arrived in Sunnydale, she'd practically been starving. Only later had he found out that she lived on the streets, except when Merrick made use of her, and ate sporadically.

Since coming to Sunnydale, she had put on a healthy fifteen pounds, filling out her figure and bringing her back up to a normal weight. There was no danger of her gaining any more; Buffy had a high metabolism and she got plenty of exercise fighting vampires. Not to mention, it pleased Giles to no end that she loved his cooking.

"They are fruitless, I agree, but to not go would raise unwelcome speculation. The City Council knows you are the Slayer and should they find out about your relationship with Angel. . . "

"I know, I know. . . I'd be Bad Buffy, let's run her out of town on a rail. Like they can afford to lose me. May I have some wine?"

Giles tilted his head and gave her a look. "Of course not."

"I'm eighteen."

He ignored her, smiling at her petulant look. "Besides, I think I may have found us a bigger place."

Buffy promptly forgot about her spaghetti and the wine. She bounced once in her chair, her eyes lighting up. "That's cool! Where? Is it nearby? Closer to the school? Not closer to downtown? Ewww. . . "

Giles laughed out loud. "Slow down! It is nearer to the school, on Revello Drive. The house has been abandoned and the city took possession. I have a friend that helped me, shall we say, acquire it."

"That sounds shady."

"Actually, it is. Several nice shade trees surround the house."

Buffy fixed him with a mock glare. "Ha ha. You are so funny. Mr. Comedian." Picking up her plate and his, she took them into the kitchen and put them on the counter. Turning on the tap, she began running hot water in the sink. "So, when do we move?"

"I thought maybe we'd go look it over after the meeting. It's nice, Buffy, you'll like it. Three bedrooms, two baths, a nice front porch with a swing."

Buffy smiled as she began to wash the dirty dishes. "Sounds homey."

Giles carried the rest of the dishes to the sink. "It is. Just the kind of house every child should grow up in."

"Well, I guess I can sit through another dull meeting if it means we have new digs. Not that I don't like this place. . . "

"It's too small, I know. And, it would be nice to transfer most of my books to new quarters. I don't feel safe in the library."

Buffy handed him a dry dishtowel so that he could help. "So, what's on the agenda tomorrow?"

"Big news. The biggest. The high school is closing down, a week from yesterday."

Buffy's smile faded as the implications sank in. "Oh my god."

"Indeed. If the schools go, how long will it be before the town follows?" Giles said as he dried the plates Buffy handed him.

"Giles, Henderson is only thirty miles up the coast. Santa Carla is even closer. If the vampires feel that their food supply is disappearing, how long until they infest one of those towns?"

"And, Henderson is quite large. Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't moved on sooner."

"The Hellmouth. It's holding them here and as long as there's a food supply, why move?"

Giles stacked the plates in the cabinet. "It's out of the school board's hands, Buffy. The rapidly dwindling population and lack of funding has their hands tied." He tossed the dishtowel down and followed Buffy into the living room. He sat on the sofa while she paced before him nervously. "There's very little industry here any longer; the majority of people commute out of town anyway. This town is dying. In more ways than one. I personally think this was inevitable."

Buffy's shoulders slumped. "I'm only one person, Giles. While the vampires are here, I can do something, I can control their spread. If they scatter to the surrounding towns, what am I supposed to do?"

Giles' gaze softened as he stared at the distraught young woman. For all her bluster and defensiveness, she was so soft-hearted and vulnerable. "Here, sit down. We have a little while to come up with a plan. Perhaps one of the others will have an idea. In the meantime, I shall contact the Watcher's Council about it and see what they advise."

"'kay. I'd better go get some patrol in. Are you going to the library?" Buffy said as she trudged to the door.

"Ah, no. I'm staying in. Don't be out too late, the meeting starts at eight o'clock sharp," Giles warned.

"I'll be home early."

As the front door shut softly behind Buffy, Giles dropped his head wearily into his hands, feeling as if the very weight of the world sat on his shoulders.