Buffy's eyes were sad, but the surety was there. She knew what she wanted. She knew what she needed. Perhaps she thought it would give her some peace, perhaps she thought it would bring him back to her. Perhaps, and I think this is the most likely of all, she thought invulnerability would keep his soul anchored to his body and he could love her again.

I had no right to refuse her. In standing up to Wesley and the Council in the last year, I had duly pledged my duty to her and refusing her decision would have betrayed her as surely as if I had stuck another needle into her arm. So I nodded, trying to keep the fear and the pain out of my eyes.

They're gone now, left for the night to continue on with their lives away from me. Not that I begrudge them that, as I've managed to find a bit of a social life now that I no longer feel the pressure of the Watcher's Council and my inherited duty. But tonight, the thought of a smooth glass of scotch and some classic music - Eric Clapton, Lou Reed, Page and Palmer - on the stereo does not appeal. Tonight, all I can do is remember.

He tortured me for hours. I don't remember much. After enough pain, your body stops remembering, stops cataloguing each new hurt. It simply goes numb. You free your mind and let it try and find someplace more pleasant so that the pain doesn't seem quite so real.

I do remember the broken fingers. I remember when he snapped my rib. I vaguely recall the poker jabbed into my side. Everything after that is hazy, laced with red. He was like a well-controlled animal. A panther or some other predator, toying with his food. He was feral and hungry, evil personified. And yet I was never afraid of him. I was never worried that I was going to die.

Somehow, knowing it was going to happen took all the worry away.

Pouring myself the scotch I hadn't thought I needed, I sit on the couch and close my eyes against the day. Too often in this job I find myself worried about the children, for lack of a better word, that I have come to have in my care. When Willow showed up at my door, bandage secured to her neck, I thought my world had come to an end. Having faced her once as a vampire, I'm in no hurry to do it again.

And now, now that Oz has the ring and is on his way to Los Angeles, all I can think of is the fact that we're offering the Holy Grail of vampire mythology to the most ruthless killer in vampire history. And should the unthinkable come to pass, should Angel lose his soul, Buffy will not only have to fight her true love, but she'll have to kill the unkillable. Slay the unslayable. Destroy the undestroyable.

And she'll have to do it before he destroys us all.

The knock startles me. My dreams are too vivid tonight. My imagination is too active. I manage to climb off the couch and make my way to the door. Willow is standing there rubbing her arms, warding off the chill of the night. The neon green bandage stands out in the soft light of the porch and I feel the slight niggle of worry.

Opening the door, I smile out at her, trying to hide the emotion in my eyes. "Hello Willow."

"It's freezing." She rubs her arms once more then walks in, knowing that I won't invite her after dark. In our world, where a few casually spoken words can get you killed, an open door is invitation enough. "Do you have any cocoa?"

"I have scotch."

"Is it bad form to put marshmallows in scotch?" She grins at me and settles on the couch. "Can we have a fire?"

I nod, realizing that we're settling in for the night. She's got something on her mind, some idea that I need not to be left alone and I've no chance of changing her mind. Xander calls it her resolve face and woe unto anyone who dares resist. "I imagine so. Although if you so much as comment on the television, I'll set you right back out into the night."

"No you wouldn't," she giggles, moving to the fireplace. She gets the fire going quickly, having learned fast when I taught her before for a spell we'd had to perform. "So, scotch, huh?" She settles down next to the fire, leaning back against a stack of boxes. "You know I'm underage."

"I think sending you out to battle vampires is far worse than contributing to your delinquency. Did you want some?"

She nods and I move to the bar to refresh my glass and fill one for her. I sit at the foot of the couch after handing her the glass and stare into the fire. "What brought you here tonight, Willow?"

"You're worried."

"I'm always worried. I believe it's in my job description. Were I to still have a job."

"You're worried about the ring. You're worried that he's going to lose his soul and then he'll be unstoppable. You're worried that he's going to come back here and finish the job that he started and Buffy won't be able to kill him this time. You're worried that Buffy's just given him the key to the end of the world."

I shrug and nod; knowing that it would be useless to lie. "Yes."

"I'm worried too."

That surprises me a bit. I had thought she was in agreement with Buffy. "Really?"

She looks down into the amber liquid, almost as if she doesn't want to answer. "When he held me, his teeth poised at my neck, I knew he was going to kill me and Xander or Buffy or you…no one was going to stop him. Not in time." She won't look up and I know there are tears in her eyes. "And I think that Buffy is so in love with him that she thinks that this will give him what he needs. He'll find his purpose and walk in the day with her. He'll be the kind of man she needs, but he's not a man at all."

It's betrayal that is keeping her eyes from mine. I realize that now. She's afraid she's betraying Buffy by thinking these things, feeling these things.

"I want Buffy to be happy, Giles. I really, really do. But Angel…no matter if he's in sunlight or in shadow, he's still a vampire and he'll never be able to give her a normal life. Not that her life is normal now, but he can't hold her and love her, he can't give her children, he can't…he can't…" The soft tears are falling now, I can hear them in her voice. "And if he finds his moment of happiness again, if by some chance he was able to…or even if someone like the Mayor were to persuade someone to take his soul from him…someone you didn't know…Giles, the world would be over. He'd come after us in a heartbeat. He'd destroy us all."

"Yes."

She flinches as I speak the word. It's what she didn't want to hear, but what she knew she would. "I'm scared, Giles. I…"

"I think that Angel has had over 80 years to work at keeping his soul. I think he understands temptation better than any of us. I think…I think that he can never again find true happiness, because in his heart he will always know that it will cost him more than his soul. But that is a question I never want to find the answer to." I sigh and take a drink, unsure of why I am defending him. Or perhaps I'm not; I'm simply trying to make a frightened young woman feel better. "I think that Angel, better than any of us, knows the danger of Angelus. And I think that Angel, for as much as he loves Buffy and wants to give her a moment in the sun, knows that the cost of that one moment is far greater than he can pay."

Her green eyes meet mine finally, and I can see the lingering emotions there. "You…"she hiccups with the residual tears. "You think he'll…?"

"I think that soon we won't have to worry about the ring at all."

Silence engulfs us and we sit there, comfortably for a long time. The fire is crackling and the scotch is soothing. When she speaks, it's soft and relaxed. She's thought about it and decided to believe me, no matter if it is truth or lies. "You know, it's weird. Being bitten. Have you ever been bitten?"

"Not by a vampire."

Her eyes widen and I can see that I've shocked her. Ah well, perhaps someday they'll see me as a man instead of a Watcher. "No one has, well, other than Buffy. But that was different. I mean, I was bit by Harmony of all people. Or, er, of all vampires. Sheesh." She rubs the bandage.

Moving over, I capture her hand and pull it away from the bandage. Gently tugging it away from her skin, I check the wound. "It's healing rather nicely. I doubt you'll have much of a scar."

"She didn't bite me much. Oz came along and there was save-age."

I nod and secure it back in place. "Good thing. You're far too important to us all for us to lose you to someone like," I pause, making sure I'm putting enough disbelief in my tone, "Harmony."

Willow giggles and then smiles widely. She takes a sip of the scotch, which she's barely touched, then makes a face. "Are you sure you don't have any cocoa?"