"We can open a portal," Willow confirmed. "But we can't guarantee where in the Kobi homeworld it'll open. I…I mean we…I mean we're good, but not that good."

Phillip sat down quietly, and dropped his hands between his knees. Spike rolled his eyes and Buffy turned to prowl the room.

"It doesn't matter," she growled. "As long as I can get there, I'll find him."

"You're not going alone!" Spike objected in chorus with Xander and Dawn.

"Why not?" Anya asked ingenuously.

"What about g-getting back?" Tara asked, a little unnerved by Willow's silence. "I mean, how will we find you to bring you back?"

"I think I can take that one," Buffy said slowly. "Jaif's portal doesn't stay open any more than 24 hours, pretty much. And a Kobi Mage used magic so that the portal would only link Kobi demons…so where they enter or exit is where it will open or close…unless something destabilises the entrance, that is," she added uncomfortably.

"Then I guess it depends if we can make our own portal, or if we're just opening the existing one," Tara mused.

Willow frowned. "I think this spell just finds one that's already there. I don't think it's powerful enough to actually create one. I don't think we're powerful enough to do that…yet," she added almost inaudibly.

"But the Slayer isn't a Kobi demon," Spike pointed out. "And if the portal works at all for her, she'll still have to be back at the entrance within 24 hours, to go through before it closes, or she might never find it again." He stared back at them when they all looked at him, wide-eyed. "Well it's not like she can bloody-well phone home if she's lost, now is it?"

That snapped everyone out of their daze.

Buffy focused on Willow and Tara. "I-I know how hard this is for you guys, but I have to do this," she told the two witches. "It's Giles. Make it happen." She turned to the others. "There are too many risks to take anyone with me. It's not like I'm actually helpless here, guys. Slay-girl, remember? Besides, I've already been dead twice," she said dryly, though without a smile in her eyes. "Three times would just be tacky."

*******

Buffy dodged the quarterstaff expertly, her hair flying in a blonde cloud as she spun out of the way. In moments she was lunging at him with her own weapon, a sheen of sweat across her bosom slightly adhering the sheer white blouse she was wearing to her curves. It was a favourite, both of hers…and his, but he hadn't seen her wear it in a very long time…

"Hey!" she laughed. "You're supposed to be concentrating, Watcher-guy."

Giles dodged the thrust and parried her downwards stroke as he focused again. The battle continued for several more minutes, his eyes continuing to wander. It was difficult for them not to. For a start they were in his library, yet Buffy looked, if anything, even more of a woman than the last time he saw her…and she was happy. He couldn't remember the last time she was happy, only that he missed that part of her terribly. Hearing her laugh and tease like this, and watching her grey eyes dance, made his chest tighten and his throat hurt.

Finally, after another flurry, she swept his legs, though for once unexpectedly careful not to bruise, and seated herself on his chest after he hit the ground.

From his new perspective he watched the tender, firm curves heave breathlessly, aware for the first time that she wasn't wearing anything under the silky blouse.

"So, I win again. Do you give up?" she asked gleefully.

"I'm thinking about it," he told her, smiling in spite of himself, unable to resist the radiance of her joy.

Her eyes danced. "You sure you're not enjoying this way too much?"

His mirrored hers. "I think perhaps I am," he said softly.

"Me too," she told him, trailing her fingers down his cheek.

The touch electrified his skin, made his breath catch in his throat.

He stared into her eyes. "Buffy…" he croaked when he saw the light in them…for him.

She smiled tenderly. "Giles," she mimicked playfully, then let her expression grow more serious. "Giles…"

He woke with a violent start just as her lips caressed his.

It was not yet dawn. The air was cool and something in his bed of leaves was sticking in his back.

Even as he sat up and touched his fingers to his mouth, he could still feel her breath on his face, the warm velvet touch of her lips against his. Most shattering of all, he could still hear her voice...

He stared desolately at the burnt-out fire, emptiness echoing inside him, until he felt nauseous. In all his dreams or nightmares about Buffy, there had only ever been endless metaphors for losing her. Whether violent or fantasy, abstract or exaggeration, it was always about losing her…

But until now he'd never dreamed…never even imagined that she could ever…that he might…

He closed his eyes for a long moment, hearing her say his name over and over in a way he could never, ever hope to hear in life, never even let himself imagine…

And then he was out of the lean-to, moving to his morning chores with deliberation, mechanically starting a fire, eating a fruit for the moisture, grinding meal, going to the stream. When he returned he chose not to eat breakfast, setting to work instead on the job of making himself a vessel. With only his stone tool as an implement he knew it was going to be long, tedious and difficult… which was exactly what he needed to occupy his mind for a time.

Several hours passed before he moved again. His plant had been trimmed of all growth, a small circle cut out of the top of the bulbous section and a few centimetres hollowed out inside. It had been even slower going than he expected. The core was more woody than pulpy. The small good news was that the little sap to be seen was clear and probably safe enough. With luck he would, eventually, have his own bowl, even if it took a week or two to finish it…

A week or two…

Suddenly he got to his feet, threw the plant across the camp and his stone knife into a nearby tree trunk, taking a piece out of it before the rock dropped to the ground. Unrepentant, he stared at it for a few moments before wheeling and striding back to his lean-to.

He sat and brooded miserably over his lot and ignored his own disapproval of the wave of self-pity that surged through him at the idea of even another day in this place, much less another week, year…lifetime. Lord knew how much time had passed back on Earth since he'd left…

Without warning his heart constricted into a little ball, pain shooting through his body and closing his throat. The very concept that all he loved…all that he held dear…might already be dead and gone…that he might have lost her again before he could even look one more time into those eyes, beyond bearing…

*******

"No, I'm telling you, they don't know. Just wilderness. The sodding demon said it could only be one of two places, because of what was growing there. If the portal doesn't open in the right place, you'll just have to use those delightful powers of persuasion of yours to convince the locals to tell you how to get to them."

"You said I only have 24 hours. What if it opens, like, thousands of miles away?"

"Then you'll have to come straight back, pet, because you sure as hell won't be able to do anything for him on that trip. If we can get you back, we can try again. Any stupid stuff, and we lose both you. Understand me?" Spike shook his head. "Be careful," he added, and left without another word.

Buffy turned to the two witches. "Can you use whatever bond there is between Giles and me to do something…I don't know…anything that'll make the portal open where Giles is, one more time?"

"Buffy…what you're asking…" Willow said doubtfully, but Tara looked thoughtful.

"When we did that location spell…you know, the one I messed up when I was scared…that book…it had other spells: 'finding' spells."

"I don't know if that book is powerful enough…I mean I didn't get it from Gi…uh…"

"Does every spell you want to do have to be some bad-ass mojo from another off-limits book you swiped from Giles?" Xander demanded, for once out of patience with his friend. "Been there done that, look what it got you. What if Tara's right?"

Willow went to find the book. When she returned, however, it was to dump the book in her lover's lap and scowl ferociously at Xander before returning to her preparations to conjure the portal.

Tara began to search immediately, Buffy looking over one shoulder, Xander the other.

"It's gotta be that one," Xander announced less than half an hour later.

"Let me finish," Tara told him absently, in a voice with more authority than any of them had heard before.

"Yeah, let her finish," Buffy teased, but her eyes were riveted to the page. It was a spell designed to reunite lost lovers, but it was the only one so far that even vaguely fit their parameters, and, according to the index, the last two chapters were almost entirely devoted to the location of lost objects and specific items, from precious metals or stones, to water and sources of mystical energy.

Xander, however, was persistent. "I mean, lovers can also be people who love each other, right? And you guys kinda love each other, right? I mean, we know the G-man must love you…I mean who else would have stayed around that long…ah…I didn't mean that the way it sounded…"

"Yes you did," Buffy chided, amused, despite the momentary clouding of her eyes. "Dying gives clarity to a great many things, not least my gruesome past. Look-it, I saw everything I was, everything I did, when I was dying. I know now that a lot of what I hated…or regretted…most about me, wasn't my fault. On the other hand, I'm also starting…finally…to understand all the things I should have known, should have done, should have understood…and didn't..."

She looked away when she realised how uncomfortable everyone looked.

"I always loved him," she said softly. "He's a part of me. I just didn't know how to do everything else, be what I had to be, and love him too. Everything I love leaves me, or dies…I couldn't lose him…do you understand?" Her voice broke at the last. "I can't lose him."

Tara, watching her face, nodded. "I think the spell will work."

Willow looked up from the herbs she was mixing. "You'll have to do it before the portal is open, so that Buffy's energy directs it to where Giles is."

Buffy watched her friend quietly. "Will? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. I'm fine," she said a little too brightly.

"She's mad at me," Xander clowned and dropped into a professorial tone. "Which is a state in which I've become used to existing in periodically over the last fifteen years or so."

Willow ignored him. "I'm okay," she repeated, despite the hunted look in her eyes. "Tara won't let me…you know. And oh…I'm ready."

Tara spoke up then, smiling reassuringly at her lover. "Um…this spell needs a part of Giles and a part of Buffy…"

"You mean like body parts…?" Dawn asked, screwing up her face.

"No, the usual clichés would do…hair, fingernails, drops of blood," Willow said almost bitterly, lighting candles, one at a time.

"Uh…you're forgetting one thing, guys. Giles isn't here. Not only that but he doesn't even live here any more," Xander pointed out, disappointment making his sarcasm sharper than was actually intended.

"No!" Buffy jumped up, agitated. "There has to be something…!"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "In the movies they get hair from combs and brushes, blood on a handkerchief from some kind of wound…"

"This isn't a movie," Tara muttered, her mind racing. "Buffy, do you have anything of his? Did he leave anything?"

Buffy shook her head slowly. Then her eyes widened and she flew up the stairs. Moments later she was back with a pale blue blouse.

"I've had to throw away a lot of clothes after fights and stuff, but I like this blouse too much to get rid of it. It has a mark…see…here…" She pointed to a pale stain the size of a penny on the shoulder where it would be hidden by her hair.

"Blood?" Tara guessed.

"Hah!" Xander exclaimed. "I knew it."

Buffy nodded slowly. "We were training. There was a problem and I was being obnoxious girl with the sparring, and Giles was taking it all, like always. I was mad about something and I got madder and rougher when he didn't respond. In the end I kinda got carried away and he zigged when he should have zagged, and got a bloody nose." She handed the piece of clothing to the girl.

"It'll have to do," the young witch said, again sounding more self-assured than any of them remembered. "But it would be better if yours was flowing," she added, looking pointedly up at Buffy. "Xander, get a knife from the kitchen."

On his return, Xander handed the carving blade reluctantly to Buffy. "Be careful," he admonished awkwardly.

She smiled back just as awkwardly.

Tara handed back the blouse. "When I tell you to, press Giles' blood to your own and repeat everything I say after that," she instructed. "Willow?"

"Ready," Willow confirmed.

At that Buffy drew a deep breath and slid the knife blade purposefully across her wrist.

"Ready," she said.

*******

It was mid afternoon when Giles finally stirred himself again. He'd done a lot of thinking while he was lying there, before the warmth of the morning had lulled him into dozing off.

It had been logical up to now to make himself a base where he knew there would be food and water, and very close to where the portal had last opened, but he couldn't stay there forever. Not if he wanted to preserve any shred of real sanity, or reasonable physical condition. He'd already lost several kilos, not that he was missing any he needed yet, but it was only a matter of time…

No, the time was coming when he was going to have to start down stream, to try and walk out of the jungle-like forest. Even if it took months, the dense growth did, inevitably, have to end. And if there were going to be signs of settlement, or any kind of sentient life, they were going to be near the water. Pity the stream was little more than a creek, or he'd have made a small raft and floated down. His forays along its banks had already made it clear that he'd be spending more time dragging a raft than riding it.

He sighed and swallowed, then scowled, his throat dry from thirst. Until he could find a way to store water in his camp, he was always going to be frustratingly thirsty between trips to the stream.

Camping any closer to the water, however, was out of the question. The insects were appalling, and there was the ever-present danger of carnivores coming down to the stream in the early morning and late afternoon, both to drink and to hunt whatever else might be thirsty…

On the way through, Giles kicked the plant he'd started carving. The bloody thing was so woody and dense it was going to take an eternity with his stone knife to hollow out. Pity real life wasn't like the cinema, or even the classics. The Swiss Family Robinson wouldn't have had any trouble finding gourds growing, or giant clamshells, coconuts or conveniently shaped giant bamboo segments to store, gather and cook their food in. He'd loved the book as a small boy, despite its imaginative rewriting of known geographical and zoological detail to suit the breadth of the adventure. Right at that moment, however, he would have thoroughly enjoyed cuffing the author in the ear with a, preferably hefty, volume of his own book.

His stomach rumbled as he bent to drink, and he cursed his own inefficiency for not having his fish trap repaired and set again. Somehow his enthusiasm for ash-encrusted, tasteless lumps of baked seed meal, tart fruit and oily nuts had waned considerably.

He would give his right arm for a cup of tea, a jelly donut…and a hot shower…

Giles took his time over his morning bath, soaking and scrubbing the grime from his body and his hair. After despairing for a time, he'd gotten very good at it, and felt rather good when he waded out and picked up the wet boxers he'd already rinsed and decided in an act of petulant defiance, not to put them on while they were still dripping. The warmth of the morning sun soon warmed up his cool flesh as he made his way back to the camp.

Halfway there, however, things went awry. An enormous surge of power flung him off his feet and into a tangle of undergrowth, blue light and crashing electrical energy swamping the whole area. His second last conscious thought was that he'd been struck by lightning while naked.

And his last was: bloody typical…