The next day, late afternoon
It was a somber gathering. The three men stood around Willow’s hospital bed, each face stricken with pain and worry. Oz held Willow’s IV laden hand, trying to impart Willow with some of his strength. Giles, his head bandaged, tried to think through the haze of pains both physical and emotional. Xander, the only one who witnessed Buffy’s death, was dealing with a pain quite apart from the other two.
“Where’s Buffy?” Giles asked as he collapsed into a nearby chair, his legs no longer able to support his weight. Oz looked up to Xander expectantly.
For the first time in his life, Xander didn’t hesitate or try to weasel his way out. He told them straight out what he saw.
“Giles, Oz. Buffy’s dead.” He saw the blood drain from both of their faces. Oz dropped to one knee by Willow’s bedside while Giles looked like he would be sick from his grief. “And that’s not all,” he continued after taking a deep breath. “I don’t know Angelus that well, but I’m guessing that he’s turned Buffy.”
Giles wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and nodded. “Yes, yes...that’s what Angelus would do.” The Watcher’s voice seemed far away, almost as if his mind and soul had gone and left his body behind.
Oz seemed merely dumbstruck. No words came from his mouth, and his eyes seemed to glaze over. Xander looked at the clock. Damn, he thought, three hours until nightfall. Realizing that they had to do something before nightfall brought both Angelus and the vampire Buffy, he steeled himself for what he had to do.
Slapping Giles across the face, Xander whispered fiercely to the stunned Watcher. “Listen, we have to do something. Go to your house and uninvite Angel and Buffy before nightfall. If we don’t we’re all dead.”
Giles looked at Xander with a newfound respect. “Of course,” he said, standing up and holding his head. “However, next time don’t slap the man with the head injury.”
Nodding sheepishly, he went with the Watcher to sign the release forms for Willow. He hoped they had enough time to protect themselves before nightfall.
Dusk, the same day
Xander collapsed heavily onto Giles’ couch. They had spent the last two hours casting spells and barring the windows to protect themselves from any attack that night. Willow was resting comfortably in Giles’ spare bedroom with Oz sitting by her side. She had woken up and seemed better, though still weak. Giles was sitting in his armchair, barely awake. The Slayer’s death was a heavy blow to Giles, who still thought of her as a daughter. It’s going to be a hard few days for all of us, Xander thought. We’ll have to hunt Buffy down. Somehow, the prospect of hunting the vampire that was once his friend didn’t bother him much. Have I grown that cold? he wondered. A knock at the door interrupted his reverie.
Xander and Giles both leapt to their feet and grabbed weapons that were readily available. Giles checked the pull on his crossbow before loading it while Xander grabbed a stake and cross from the countertop. They both walked over to the door as a knock sounded a second time. With Giles covering him, Xander opened the door.
Unsurprisingly, Buffy and Angelus were at the door. Buffy held a young boy by the throat before her, blocking any shot Giles might have had to her heart. Angelus stood behind Buffy, using her as a shield.
“What do you want?” Giles asked, his voice as steady as his aim.
“I just wanted to say I’m leaving. I got what I want,” Angelus said as he put a possessive hand on Buffy’s shoulder.
As the two vampires walked away, Xander spoke up. “I know both of you better than that. You’ll come after us soon enough.”
“What makes you say that?” Buffy asked innocently. Xander’s silence was as much of an answer as she would get.
Both vampires walked away into the deepening night.
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