He convinced himself that the stoplight in front of him was still yellow and stepped further on the accelerator. He had no time to spare.

The three occupants of the room were silent. It wasn't just the fear and tension; They didn't have anything to say.

Willow continued her vigil, and had begun wiping the sweat that had broken out on Oz's brow. He was getting a fever. She didn't know if this was good or bad.

She started at the sound of the front door, and breathed a relieved, "Giles."

The Watcher ran up the stairs, causing Willow to frown. Whatever he'd found out, it wasn't good. Buffy met him in the hall, and began animatedly telling him about the close call while Giles threw open the small medical bag on the bed. Willow stood and backed away, giving him more room to work.

"What was it, Giles?" she asked, her eyes fearful and dark.

"Poison," he answered shortly. "The first dart had expired. The drug became tainted, and it's poisoning him."

Willow gulped for air with his words. "Will he--?"

Giles withdrew a new syringe filled with a yellowish liquid, and injected it into Oz's arm quickly. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. "This should work, Willow."

"I - I poisoned him?"

Giles shook his head, looking at the trembling redhead in front of him. "The dart did. You had no way of knowing."

Willow sank to the bed, pressing her face into Oz's neck. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to her unconscious boyfriend. "I'm so sorry."

"He should fully recover, Willow," Giles insisted, laying a quieting hand on her shoulder. "I can assure you, this isn't your fault. If anything, it's mine. I should have checked the expiration date on the carton of darts before I threw it out. I'm sorry."

Buffy warily approached the bed. "He stopped breathing, Giles. If it weren't for Xander..."

Giles sank exhaustedly to the chair Xander had vacated. "I know, Buffy. I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry."

Willow turned her face to her mentor, her friend. "It wasn't your fault, either. Forgive yourself, Giles. We do."

Once the serum had been administered, Xander began to relax a little. If it was the cure, they just had to wait for it to take effect. So far, after two hours, there had been little change.

The sun continued to rise in the sky, Buffy continued to pace restlessly, and Willow continued to softly wipe Oz's face, which was now bathed in sweat. His fever had escalated to a dangerous level, and every now and then Buffy would change the water basin Willow was using at the side of the bed. Giles sat in the second chair for the most part, occasionally moving to check on Oz's pulse and breathing. He'd also called the university medical lab twice, but he hadn't yet said anything about Oz getting better.

Xander was content to just watch the people around him. It had been such a harrowing night that he was more than willing to spend the next two days in his chair.

"What if he doesn't wake up in time for sunset?" Buffy asked. "Then what?"

Xander groaned as the memory hit him full in the face. "We gotta fix the cage," he remembered.

"Right. With the super-industrial lock this time."

Giles sighed and withdrew his wallet. Taking several bills out, he handed them to Buffy. "Go buy the necessary materials. The store should be open now."

Buffy nodded, tucking the wad of money into her jeans. He looked at Xander. "Did you bring a car?"

Xander shook his head. "Hoofed it."

Giles looked positively alarmed at the idea that he would have to loan the teens the Dean's car. Reluctantly, he fished the keys out of his pocket. "Take the car in the driveway. DO be careful. It's not mine."

"Wow. Giles stole a real car for Oz," Xander breathed.

"I didn't steal it. I borrowed it. Forcefully."

Xander flashed Willow, who was watching the exchange, a quick smile before leading Buffy out of the room. Giles approached the bed again, and felt Oz's forehead. "He's still very warm."

Willow just continued to lightly sponge his face and chest with her cloth. "Giles? Is he really going to be okay?"

Giles pursed his lips together. "I don't know Willow." The team at the university medical lab had reassured him on the phone that the fever could, in fact, be a part of the healing process. They'd asked him to bring his rat in if he was worried, but he'd politely declined. His 'rat' was huge and not very rat-like. He didn't think that would go over well. He looked at Willow's defeated face and continued, "In theory, this should work. But with the fever and the length of exposure to the toxin -" He couldn't meet the eyes of the redhead in front of him. "I hope so," he finally murmured.

Officer Joseph Emerson was bored. He'd made his usual morning rounds, pleased that no more bloodless bodies had shown up. That always caused a crapload of paperwork. But now, with the prospect of another mind-numbingly boring day in Sunnydale, he almost wished he had the paperwork to do. He surveyed the quiet neighborhood from his cruiser with detached interest, looking for anything out of the ordinary - and was immediately rewarded.

He slid his sunglasses down his nose as he watched a car speed past. It was a convertible - more specifically - Dean Ryan's convertible. Only that wasn't Dean Ryan at the wheel. A dark-haired young guy and a blonde girl appeared to have taken themselves on a joyride. Emerson resisted the urge to whoop with delight and instead pulled his cruiser onto the street, flicking on his lights as he did so. He really hoped they didn't stop - then he could turn on his siren. He snarled as they immediately pulled over, and deflated to animated grumbling as he followed the Dean's car to a stop at the curb.

He took a moment to adjust his badge and hat before exiting his cruiser. Intimidation was the name of the game, after all. He approached the convertible lazily - giving them time to work themselves into a panic. They had their heads close together, talking quietly as he walked.

He leaned down and rested his arm on the door as he addressed the driver. "License and registration please."

The guy looked at his companion, and Officer Emerson was tempted to smile maliciously before his eyes followed to the blonde passenger. His jaw dropped open. "YOU!"

"Hi!" Buffy said, waving slightly. "It's me."

"Oh," Xander appeared anxious. "You two know each other? It wouldn't be on a friendly basis, would it?"

The policeman grunted. "We've got a file on Miss Summers down at the station three inches thick - and that's just reported incidents."

"Oh," Xander was clearly disappointed. "So, no barbecues or tea parties, huh?"

"Can I add Grand Theft Auto to the file, now?" Officer Emerson asked wryly. The idea that he might be able to finally send the blonde troublemaker to jail obviously delighted him.

"We didn't steal it. It was loaned to us," she explained.

"Dean Ryan loaned *you* his $66 000 Jaguar convertible?"

Buffy winced. "Not exactly."

The grin across the police officer's face threatened to split his head in two. "I thought so."

Giles jumped involuntarily when the phone on Oz's desk rang. The noise seemed so abrupt in the quiet of the room. He grabbed it and brought it to his ear quickly. "Hello?"

"Hi Giles!" Buffy's voice rang out over the line.

"Buffy? Why are you calling? Didn't I give you enough money for the --?"

Willow looked up, concerned, and Giles waved at her vaguely, hoping to convey that this was something she didn't need to worry about.

"We're in jail," Buffy calmly interrupted. "And you're my phone call. Come explain to the nice police officers that you loaned us that car, and we can get back on the road."

Giles rubbed his forehead and sat down heavily. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. "Can't I just talk to someone?"

"Hold on. I'll ask."

Giles could hear Buffy arguing with some masculine voices in the background, and then shuffling as the phone was handed to someone new. "Mr., uh, Giles, is it?"

"Yes," he replied. "Can I help you?"

"Miss Summers says you loaned she and Mr. Harris Dean Ryan's vehicle."

"That's true," Giles said. "I borrowed it from him very early this morning."

"Okay then. I'll call Dean Ryan to verify that information, and then you can come on down and sign for their release."

Giles gripped the phone harshly in frustration. "Is that really necessary? If the Dean corroborates the fact that I borrowed his car, why can't you just let them go?"

"I, uh. Hmmm," the officer replied.

Giles was inspired. "We'll sue for wrongful arrest!"

"I'll call you right back, Mr. Giles."

The phone abruptly went dead in his hands. He replaced it in its cradle and met Willow's questioning eyes. "They got arrested," he explained.

"Oh."