(notes and disclaimer with part one)

In the end it was another hour before the young nurse who'd helped Buffy quietly came over and informed them that Giles had been sent up stairs to a private room…one that they'd apparently been instructed to give him.

*The Council*, Buffy guessed. *Finally*.

Hank closed the door behind them as Buffy rushed to Giles' bedside. He knew a pang of jealousy at the obvious closeness of the pair, as Buffy sat on the bed and touched the other man's face tenderly.

“You see…that wasn't so bad,” Giles told her wearily.

“It was way worse,” Buffy grumbled mock-seriously. “So when are you out of here?”

“In the morning…if I'm cleared by the attending physician. Apparently they're very pleased with the results of the tests they've done, and quite chuffed with their success.”

Buffy turned to her father. “Dad, you have to call Willow. Tell her Giles is going to be okay and that we're staying with him tonight because it looks like the Overseer can't reach us here for some reason. And tell her she has to find a way to stop the Overseer from taking Giles away again…or me…or hurting you.”

“Blood,” Giles said suddenly.

Buffy turned back to him again. “Huh?”

“You said the Overseer didn't want you for absorption…that you weren't…suitable. If your blood types are compatible, you need to give your father some of your blood, to at least make him temporarily unacceptable.”

“Giles, we may be in the right place for it, but the doctors here aren't going to do a transfusion just because my father and I want to share.”

He frowned for a long moment. “There's a spell,” he said.

Buffy scowled. “There's always a spell…there are too many damned spells!”

“Of course there are,” Giles muttered, then spoke several simple sentences in Latin.

Each of them staggered, Hank sitting down hard in the visitor's chair and Buffy only just making it back to the bed.

She shook her head then held it. “What happened to spell books and candles…and potions and all that other crap Willow needs to make a spell work?”

Something flashed in his eyes then Giles snorted dismissively. “Not every spell requires the blood of the innocent. And not all magic is about ritual and ceremony. A lot of good magic is simply about understanding it and using it correctly and wisely.”

“You know a lot of magic?” she asked, wondering exactly how deep her Watcher really went.

“More than you ever want to know about,” Giles admitted. “With luck, your father will now be highly unacceptable as fodder for the Overseer…at least for a while.”

“Thanks,” Hank managed, trying to ignore the throbbing at his temples and the tingling in his fingers. “I have a hum-dinger of a hangover though. Are you sure it worked? Is Buffy going to be okay?” he rushed on, realising how pale she was, for the first time.

“Yes, fine,” Giles growled impatiently, too aware of Buffy's body pressing against his hip as she sat next to him on the bed. “Perhaps you could make that call to Willow now?”

When Hank was gone, they turned to each other simultaneously.

“I can't believe I found you.”

Giles smiled.

Without warning Buffy leaned down and brushed his mouth with hers.

His bemused eyes searched hers, startled but pleased.

“Love's first kiss,” she explained, tracing his jaw. “I wanted to see if you were really going to turn into a toad. I'm glad you didn't. I like the handsome prince version so much better.”

“Bollocks,” he said, but he was grinning and flushed.

“Is that what you say to all the girls who love you?” she teased.

His hand lifted to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing it tenderly. “You have so much ahead of you, and you're so very young…are you so very certain that…?”

He was silenced again by Buffy's mouth covering his, except this time he responded. The kiss was tender and searching, both of them giving themselves to it, before drawing back with some trepidation in their eyes, wondering how exactly the other was going to react. For the longest time they just looked at each other.

Buffy spoke first, her voice tremulous. “I was so scared that you were dead or somewhere bad, when you were missing…and I miss Rupert,” she added nonsensically.

Giles shifted a little against his pillows. “You don't have to, you know. He's not really gone. He'll build a snowman with you again, and eat fattening breakfasts…and continue to try to help you understand Yeats' poetry and to improve your horrid chess game,” he teased. “ I promise.”

She sighed heavily, her eyes glowing with love. “I know. I really do. It's just…I miss him. And a part of me wants to talk to him like I used to…I want to tell him about everything that's happened…and that he was right…about you…about how much I love you.”

Giles smiled tenderly. “In away you are, love. I'm sorry you feel like you've lost a friend, but the reality is that you've only lost his face. And I'm honestly not sorry to have my knees back around the right way and full use of my facial muscles again…not to mention all of my memory.”

At that Buffy finally chuckled and relaxed a little. “I guess I really do like you better this way,” she told him, sliding down to snuggle into his side, her head resting on his shoulder.

Giles kissed her hair and drew his arm tightly around her, ignoring his pounding head and the continuing nausea, as joy washed over him from head to toe tips.

Buffy lifted her face enough to kiss the point of his jaw then, before snuggling down again.

When Hank returned to inform them that Willow had already taken care of everything, he stopped mid stride and mid-sentence at the sight of his daughter curled up, asleep, in the arms of a man whom even he realised she loved dearly, but whom he knew very little about. Giles was asleep too. Summers studied the face of the man who'd won his daughter's heart. He was far too old for her…old enough to bring out the parent in him…make him want to sock the guy, good looking as he was. It was, however, an honest face, with a jaw that spoke of strength and stubbornness, and even in sleep it was obvious that the man adored the girl in his arms.

He wanted to ask them a thousand questions, to warn Giles not to hurt his daughter and tell Buffy he was sorry…but he also didn't want to disturb either of them after their ordeals. Frustrated, but content to wait, after all that had gone before, he sat down in the visitor's chair to watch over them both while they slept on.

When the first light came through the window, Hank woke to find Buffy gone and Giles fast asleep. It was obvious that someone had been in…the bed had been remade and tucked in.

He blinked and pulled himself out of the chair, annoyed that he'd fallen into such a deep sleep. Buffy was not in the hallway. Beginning to worry, he was about to head for the elevator to check the hospital kiosk, when she emerged from a public bathroom looking disgruntled but combed and straightened.

“Everything okay?”

Buffy rolled her eyes up at him. “Night nurse came and told me I had to move. She gave Giles something to stop his headaches and nausea…something he'd asked for hours ago…when he was *actually awake*,” she added crabbily. “And she told me not to sit or lie on the sheets any more.”

“Are you going to tell me about him?” Hank asked, when she'd finished grumbling.

“It's a long story, Dad,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair wearily.

“We've got a lot of time,” he pointed out patiently.

It took Buffy about an hour to tell the whole story, from Merrick to Evil Willow, over kiosk coffee, brought back to the room. Incidental details, like Dawn's true nature, made it difficult to keep her father focused on the subject at hand, but eventually he sat down, flabbergasted.

“You know it's impossible…however much you think you love him. He's my age…well, your mother's age. When you're my age, he'll be in his seventies, for God's sake.”

Buffy's eyes grew very bright and she came to his side, put her hand over the one he was resting on the arm of the chair. “Dad, Slayer, remember? I don't have to worry about things like that. I'm pretty much going to be on borrowed time if I manage to make *twenty* five. It's way less fair on Giles than it is on me. He'll be the one left behind, not me.”

Hank's face went from consternation to bleakness. “No…you can't. I'm not going to bury you, Buffy. You're young…you deserve love, passion, children…life, not vampires, demons and…and…”

“Death,” Buffy filled in. “And I'm with you a hundred and ten percent…trust me,” she added dryly, “but it can't be like that. Destiny is a bitch that way…ask Giles. He didn't want his any more than I want mine, but we both had to face the fact that neither was going to go away.”

“If I can get you away from him…from all of this…would you be safe then?”

“You don't get it,” Buffy said gently. “The only reason I'm still alive…the only reason I was ever safe, was him. You can take me as far away from Giles as you can, but you can't outrun destiny. There'll still be evil and bad guys, only without Giles I'll make a mistake one day and evil will win.”

Hank's eyes went to the striking man asleep in the hospital bed. “Why?”

Buffy's gaze followed, and she couldn't help but smile a little as she watched him sleep.

“Because it was always meant to be…except I didn't know that until I lost him. Do you know what it's like to find out that you're not whole without someone? That they're already a part of your soul and you didn't even know it?”

Hank stared at her. “No,” he said sadly. “I don't.”

Buffy paused for a moment, shocked. “Not even Mom?”

Hank shook his head honestly. “I did love her, and I think she loved me, but…”

“Well I do,” she said quietly. “I know right down to the bottom of my soul how it feels. I can't lose him again. I never want to hurt him again and I never want to be apart from him again…ever.”

He watched her return to Giles' side, without saying a word. There was nothing he could say. Buffy's face, eyes and voice told him more profoundly and more eloquently than any words exactly how much she loved this man, and how futile it would be to try and intervene in a bond as deep as theirs obviously was…

The rental car slid to a halt outside of the impressive façade of a grand old Bath home that had long since been converted into equally impressive flats. Hank Summers got out first, moving around to help his daughter assist their companion from the rear seat.

Buffy unlocked the door of Giles' flat and then helped to get Giles inside and into the big armchair in the living room.

“But how?” she asked, continuing a conversation from the car.

Hank raised his hands in a 'how should I know?' gesture. “Willow said that you didn't need to know the details, only that we're all safe now and that 'power-girl' was on it. She did mention that someone called Wesley gave her a lot of information about the Overseer and his dimension.”

“Then we shall have to thank both of them,” Giles said, his voice still a little strained. “Willow may have found a way to balance things…she has rather an extensive understanding of everything…all things…balance and counterbalance…these days. I would assume she has made it very difficult for them to influence or even access this dimension in any way, even through a de facto like Cyrelle. The fact that we're still here attests to her success, whatever she did.”

“Well, whatever it was, I'm just grateful to still be here,” Hank told them fervently. “I'm sorry I can't stay longer, but I have to get back to London. At that moment his pager went off for the eighth time that day. He shrugged, hugged his daughter and shook hands with Giles, holding the other man's gaze for a long moment.

“Don't hurt her,” he said eventually. “At least not any more than I have.”

“Never,” Giles assured him and Hank knew it was the truth.

Buffy watched her father slip out of the front door again and was glad he'd promised to visit Dawn within weeks. She needed to see him as much as Buffy herself had, and it would do them all good to work through all the issues both of them had with their absent parent over the years. When it closed, she turned to Giles, suddenly a little shy.

“You know, in the fairy tales they get to live happily ever after.”

Giles smiled back at her. “I don't know how long 'ever after' will be, for either of us, but I don't see why we shouldn't have a jolly good stab at the 'happily' part.”

Buffy tilted her head to one side, considering the man she'd always thought of as too old and too British…every nerve ending in her body attesting to the fact that he was neither.

“How did we not know for so long?” she asked softly.

Giles lifted an eyebrow. “We?” he teased.

Buffy reddened, partly at her faux pas, partly because of those nerve-endings. “I don't know why I was so blind,” she muttered. “I wasted so much time…are you mad at me?”

“I have been, a hundred times,” he admitted. “But, no, I'm not mad at you. You had to grow up and you had to make your mistakes, however foolish. I wish I could have saved you a lot of that pain …but sometimes our pain is all we have to shape us and make us who we are…”

She gave him a dry look. “Very poetic. Bottom line: not buying the pain thing. Pain is pain. It isn't a life changer…not the way you mean it. A life-ruiner maybe.

“Oh, most certainly,” he agreed, “but in the end it also makes us who we are, for better or worse. Adversity is tried and true character builder.”

“Adversity sucks,” Buffy announced glumly. “And I think I proved that isn't necessarily true. I've had adversity up the…well, anyway, it never did much for my character…I mean: not exactly percepto-girl here, and most of my really big relationship decisions…the word 'moron' comes to mind...”

“You're being too harsh on yourself,” Giles told her. “You weren't exactly an average teenager with average issues and problems, if you recall.”

Buffy snorted. “Why are you sticking up for me? The person who got the most hurt by my great 'character' suckage was…you.” She swallowed. “Giles, I really, really, didn't know back then. I think I might have had brain damage or something,” she proposed dryly then sobered. “I have to be honest with you: when I was with Angel…I really thought I would die if he left me…until he did…and even then it took a long time. And Riley…I really thought I could make…” She shook her head. “Never mind…now there was another really lame Buffy exercise in futility…” Her brow furrowed suddenly. “Except…except that's when I think I first started to realize. It all started falling apart way before the vamp-tramps. I think it really started back when I started comparing him to you. Like, when I had to start choosing between the two of you…there was no choice…only you.” Giles smiled at her and Buffy smiled back. “Except I was still too stupid to realize why. And then everything happened…and then I was back, thanks to Willow…big yay for me…” she added glumly. “It felt *so* horrible…so bad. I'm still waiting for someone to explain that to me, by the way,” she digressed rather pointedly, before returning to the issues at hand. “The thing was, you left again, which we've now established was a good thing, but at the time…major, catastrophic pain of the 'let's be 'self-destructive Buffy'' kind…hence, Spike.”

“Oh whom we shall not speak at this time,” Giles interceded firmly, meeting her eyes and lifting himself gingerly out of his chair.

After a beat Buffy nodded: “not a word,” she agreed. “I'm not sure what the word would be, anyway,” she added, her tone dry but her eyes more than a little haunted. “All I know is that part of my life is over. It should never have happened. There are things I did that I wish someone could burn out of my brain with a hot iron or something, so I'd be punished, but then I wouldn't have to remember any more that I was ever that horrible.”

“We all do appalling things at some point in our lives, Buffy. The fact that you recognise and accept that you did them is far more important than wallowing in self-pity over them.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose and set her mouth in a straight line. “Easy for you to say. And I do not wallow.”

He raised an eyebrow as she came to him and looked up.

“Well, maybe a little,” she conceded, looking sheepish. “Does anyone ever call you 'Rupert'?” she added unexpectedly, obviously trying to change the subject.

His eyes grew warm and his lip quirked up. “Ethan, on occasion…and Olivia, when the mood took her…otherwise very few…although my mother was fond of the name…”

“Well that figures. *Parents*,” she drawled. “My mother likes 'Buffy'. I rest my case.”

Giles couldn't help the chuckle. “Mother really was fond of the name. It got me a lot of beatings in the schoolyard until Ripper was born, but she thought it was a grand name and that I should be proud of it…”

Buffy's eyes grew bleak. “He liked it.”

“Don't fret yourself so,” he said gently. “I'm here. I just don't look like a badly drawn St. Bernard any more…and best of all I remember who you are and why I…” He stopped, reddening.

The inaccurate analogy made Buffy smile, and his almost-statement made her eyes flick up to his again, searching them.

“Why you…what…?” she prompted softly.

He shook his head. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

Buffy scowled. “I think I like Rupert better after all,” she growled.

It made Giles smile again. “All right. I was only going to say that being myself again has its advantages…such as having all my memories of you…and how very much I…I…” He ducked his head, unexpectedly, yet typically, tongue-tied again.

She stepped close to where he stood. “Me too,” she said softly. “So much, I feel like I'm going to burst if…if…”

Giles looked up slowly, and down into the lovely eyes, his cheek dimpling after a moment of intense mutual scrutiny, and his fingers reaching out to take her face in them.

“I love you so very, very much,” he whispered.

Buffy's eyes lit and she smiled back at him. “And they lived happily ever after,” she said contentedly.

“Indeed,” Giles agreed lovingly, his head bending to hers. “You do know what comes next…?”

There was a small chuckle and the soft sound of someone saying 'Duh' just before the two figures merged and became one…