I think you’ve taught me everything I need to know.

Giles stared blankly at the door.

She can’t… doesn’t mean… I’ll talk to her, make her see reason…

He continued to stare, compulsively clenching and unclenching his left fist to keep the circulation in his arm going, as had become a habit for him since the Council was destroyed.

Anger began to well up inside of him. Anger at Buffy for being so bloody blind and pig-headed; thoughtlessly choosing Spike’s counsel over his own. If the vampire were unlucky enough to have been there, Giles would have throttled him in an instant. The presumptuous, parasitic, evil blighter had stolen the last thing in Giles’ life that had meant anything. Had usurped his place at the side of the Slayer – no, at the side of Buffy

How? How had Buffy been able to choose Spike over him, her Watcher, who had come to see her as a daughter? As the answer came to him, Giles slowly turned away from Buffy’s door and walked pensively towards the stairs, filled with guilt and disgust and a steadily growing sense of loneliness. He had pushed her away.

But it had been for her own good, he hadn’t meant to alienate her so. And then he forced her to choose. If he hadn’t…

Well, this isn’t the end, he thought desperately. She’s angry with me now, but given a day or two she’ll see, she needs me, as I need her. She must. Things can’t stay like this between us. They can’t.

By the time he reached the stairs Giles felt oddly out of breath. He was suddenly dizzy; the stairs seemed to loom before him. He leaned against the wall to steady himself, still clenching his fist compulsively. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt a painful tightening in his chest. He grimaced, struggling to breath through the pain. As he slid down the wall to the floor, the Summers’ house faded from view…

Giles opened his eyes and saw that he was lying on the floor at the top of the stairs. The pain had subsided and he was still breathing. He got shakily to his feet and took a moment to regain his balance before slowly making his way down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to catch his breath.

“Giles! Are you alright?”

He glanced to his right to see Willow coming towards him from the living room, concern etched on her face. She was followed by Xander and Anya.

“Yes, I-I’m fine.”

“What happened? Is Buffy –”

“Nothing’s happened,” Giles cut her off. “Buffy’s fine. I’m simply not feeling very well.”

“You look like hell.”

“Yes, Anya, thank you for that observation.”

“She’s not wrong,” said Xander, taking in Giles’ unsteadiness and ashen face. “Look, you want us to drive you to the hospital?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Giles answered shortly as he began to walk towards the front door.

“At least let one of us drive you to the hotel,” Xander persisted. “You shouldn’t be on the road by yourself.”

“I said I’m fine,” Giles snapped. “I just want to be left alone for a while. Is that too much to ask?”

“We… we’re just worried, is all.” Willow said meekly.

Giles looked around at all their faces, their concern evident, and his countenance softened.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “Thank you.” He studied each of them thoughtfully in turn. “You do all realize that I’m very proud of you?”

His comment was met with three looks of scepticism.

“Okay Giles, now you’re acting scary,” Xander said carefully. Giles responded with a small, wistful smile. “You sure you’re okay?”

“You don’t have to go back to the hotel tonight, you know,” Willow suggested. “You can stay here.”

“Thank you for the offer. But there really are some things I’d like to get done, and it is rather difficult to think in this house.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Willow conceded reluctantly.

“Well…” Giles looked around at Willow, Xander and Anya one last time. “Goodnight.”