Author: Kathryn A Pantaleo

Rating: FRM

Disclaimers: All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, and whomever else he shares them with! I can only dream!!

Buffy Summers stood looking out the open window of her mothers’ bedroom. The sun was setting, painting the sky fantastic mauves and blues. God, she was tired! They had been here for two days now, "forted up", as Xander, Mr. Military man, had put it. She sensed danger building. She needed to be out there! But she was concerned about Giles. Concerned about everybody, as a matter of fact. They had all been staying close to the Summers house, since the Knights of Byzantium had attacked Giles and Dawn at the Magic Box. Xander, now packing three pistols concealed on him, had gone with Anya to the magic shop, removed all "evidence" of the struggle, and put the shop back in order. They had placed a "Closed for Renovation" sign on the door, and left it locked up. They had gone to Giles apartment to get him some clothes, and then returned. Besides the coming and going of Dr. Ben, no one else had ventured out.

That they had Ben’s’ help was a blessing. She was sure that Giles would have died without his aid. Giles’ fever had finally broken in the late afternoon, and he had been sleeping a deep and exhausted sleep. Bens’ last visit had been promising. The seepage of blood was stopping from his injured shoulder, and his pulse and respiration were stronger. He had administered more antibiotics, and left again with instructions to get some food and liquid into the injured man, in small amounts, as soon as he woke up. He assured Buffy that the crisis was past, but she knew that she could not rest until she was certain for herself that Giles was out of danger.

A strong breeze blew the evening air into the bedroom, heavy with the scent of mown grass and flowers. She heard a sound behind her, and turned to see Giles stirring on the bed.

She slipped on to the edge of the mattress, and took his hand, calling him softly. To her delight, his eyes opened, and then met hers. They were clear, and she could see immediately that he recognized her. He tried to speak, but no sound came. He coughed, wincing as the movement hurt his bandaged ribs.

"Shhh," Buffy said softly, "Easy Giles. Try not to move too much. I don’t want you to start bleeding again." She took a bottle of water, dropped in a straw, and slipped a hand behind his head to support it while he drank. "Easy now, just a little," she said.

This time he was able to speak clearly. "Where?" he asked softly.

"You’re at my house, Giles. Moms’ room."

"How long?’

"It’s two days since they attacked you at the shop."

"Two days? Bloody hell!"

She smiled in relief. He was sounding like Giles already.

His eyes widened as memory came flooding back. "Dawn?"

"She’s fine Giles. She’s here. She got away ok. Everybody is here." She smiled at him. "You’ve had us all really worried."

"I’m sorry," he said.

"Sorry? Giles, don’t be sorry. You saved Dawns life!"

He sipped more water, and tried again. "How did you find me?"

"You’ve got Dawn to thank for that, Giles."

His eyebrows went up. "Really?"

Suddenly, she was all business, straightening his blankets and carefully helping him to sit up, propping him with pillows. Even the discomfort of being moved didn’t distract him from the fact that she was crying.

"Yes, but, we can talk later. I’m going to tell everyone that you’re among the conscious…They all want to see you! Then I want you to rest. I need you strong again."

"Buffy…" he began softly, taking her hand.

"Then we need to call Ben and tell him you’re awake and then I really need to get out and patrol, and…"

He pulled her closer, wrapping his good arm around her. He could feel her trembling, as days of worry finally overwhelmed her.

"Shhh…Buffy, it’s alright. I’m alright now. I’ll be better in no time, you’ll see!" And he held her while she cried out all the terror and uncertainty of the last few days.

From the doorway, Willow and Dawn watched silently, their eyes full, and they did not disturb them.

The evening passed quickly, as Buffy’s extended family gathered, recounting to each other what had happened in the last few days. Buffy finally surrendered to exhaustion and went to rest. Dawn sat on the edge of Giles bed, talking quietly with him. He talked to her for a long time, telling her that the attack of the Knights, and his resultant injuries, were not her fault. They wanted the key…They did not know that she was the key...nor did they care.

"I don’t know what "the key" is supposed to unlock, Dawn," he said seriously to the young girl, "but I do know that it must be holding back some unspeakable horror. In a way, you are every bit as important to saving humanity as Buffy is, you know." Dawn felt a great relief. She had felt responsible for what had happened to the Watcher.

"Why do you suppose they want me, Giles. will they kill me?" she asked in a small voice.

"I don’t know, Dawn…But don’t worry. We’ll not let anything happen to you!" He scowled, struggling to remember something…it was there, just on the edge of his memory. "Buffy told me that the Knights she fought in the alley last week said that they had to destroy the key," he said almost to himself. "but there was something else…Something they said at the warehouse… What was it?"

Dawn heard a footstep on the stair behind her. A mischievous smile crossed her face. She leaned forward suddenly and kissed the startled Watcher on the forehead. "Brace yourself, Giles," she whispered in his ear. "You’re about to be mothered!"

"What? Oh..um..right! Hello, Joyce," he stuttered as Joyce Summers bustled into the room with a tray in her hands.

"Hell-lo Rupert!" she sang. "How’s our patient doing tonight? Dawnie, dear, I think it’s time for Mr. Giles to eat something, and then to rest. We don’t want to tire him out."

Dawn giggled as Giles rolled his eyes heavenward, "Bloody hell!" he said softly. His friends ruthlessly abandoned him to Joyce’s ministrations.

He slept long the next day. He had only been awake a short time when Xander entered the room, his goofy, lopsided grin on his face. "Awake, finally, Giles? I thought that you might be interested in a shower and a shave. That is, of course, unless you’re liking being all naked and sweaty there in Joyce’s’ bed? You aren’t hiding any of that Band Candy in here, are you?"

"If you value your life, Xander, never speak of that to me again."

Xander helped him to bathe; his usual embarrassment at close contact with another man, as well as his usual arsenal of quips notably absent, as he saw again the damage that had been done to his friend. Ben had appeared as if summoned, and replaced his bandages and again tightly bound his ribs. The simple act of bathing had worn the injured Watcher out, and as soon as Ben was done, he had gratefully returned to bed and slept for several more hours.

When he awoke Buffy was again at his bedside. After a brief argument, she had reluctantly agreed to let him out of bed, and helped him downstairs. Now, as the afternoon shadows lengthened into evening, the Scoobies held a council of war. The news was not good. The Knights has been reinforced. Buffy had gone out to patrol, and had checked out the old warehouse. It teemed with mail-clad Knights.

Willow had come up with the idea of sending for reinforcements of their own, and had called Cordielia in Los Angeles. The news from there had simply added another worry to their table. Angel’s strange behavior, Wesley critically injured with a gunshot wound. The impact of that weighed heavily on them all. If Angelus came again, and went on the rampage in L.A., Buffy would be able to do nothing. Between the Knights, and protecting Dawn from Glory, her feet were nailed to the ground in Sunnydale.

Evening descended, and still they discussed options, created and cast aside strategies. Dawn, sitting on the floor, got up to go get a bottle of water. She looked out the window, and gasped. Buffy was at her side in an instant. The Knights of Byzantium completely ringed the house. Those in the front, before the porch, held blazing torches.

Buffy strode to a table just inside of the front door. She snatched a sword up, and turned. "Mom, Dawn, stay with Willow and Giles. Xander, watch my back!"

She threw open the door, and stalked out onto the porch. From a ring of her enemies across her path, Sir Victor stepped into the torchlight. Giles saw him through the window and the color drained from the Watchers face. Another Knight stood next to him; the crest on his armor declared him preceptor of the order. Giles looked at his torturer, and suddenly several things in his mind snapped into place, about the Knights, about their code of chivalry, and the half-remembered conversation he hand overheard between the Knight-Marshall and his second-in-command. He pulled himself to his feet, and moved to where Xander stood in the doorway, pushed past him, and came out onto the porch.

Buffy stood facing the Knights before her, the sword point down and her hands resting on the hilt. A brave front…there was just too many here, even for her.

Outwardly, she looked calm, centered, focused. Her eyes were hard as she glared at the Knight Marshall.

"I’d tell you to run away," she said to him in a deceptively soft voice, "but, no, wait, you’ve already done that, haven’t you?" She looked meaningfully at his bandaged hand. "How’s the hand?"

He glanced down the offending hand, and she was sure he flushed. Then Giles was beside her.

"Giles, get back!" she said, reaching out to restrain him. He held up a hand, and the look on his face stopped her. His eyes were intense, and he was suddenly in full Watcher mode.

"By the laws of your order, and the code of chivalry, I demand satisfaction from that man!" he said, pointing at the Knight Marshal.

The preceptor looked interested. "You know our code?" he asked.

"I do!" Giles replied. "And I charge that your Knight Marshall waged a cowardly and unprovoked attack against myself and a helpless girl., and that he did put me to torment without cause." Giles took another step, so that he was standing slightly ahead of Buffy. "Further, I charge that he has betrayed your order, and his oath, for he wishes to capture the key for himself, and sell it to your ancient enemy, Glorificus. Also, I charge that he did flee the field of battle in dishonor "

There was a stir among the Knights. The Preceptor turned to the Knight Marshall. "What do you have to say to these charges, Sir Victor?"

"They are false, of course, My Lord!"

"Are they?" Buffy said from behind Giles. "Did he stab his own shoulder? Did he break his own ribs?’

"Casualties of war," snarled the Knight Marshall.

"My word against yours’ then, is it?" said Giles, a grim smile of satisfaction on his face. "By your own law, I claim right of trial by arms, to determine who speaks the truth." He half turned, and held out his hand to Buffy. "Give me the sword."

"Giles," she said between her teeth, "what are you doing? You can barely stand, you can’t..."

"Buffy, please, trust me, and GIVE ME THE BLOODY SWORD!" She reluctantly handed it to him, noting as she did that his face was a pasty white, and beaded with sweat. He took the weight of the sword, shifting his grip to the blade, and threw it so that is stuck at the feet of the Knight Marshall.

Sir Victor turned to the Preceptor. "My Lord, don’t let us be distracted by these theatrics! The prize is in that house somewhere! It is within our grasp!"

"He has challenged, and our code and honor must prove the question in trial at arms. Will you accept his challenge?"

"I will!" said the Knight Marshall. "I will make short work of him, and then we can carry on." He snatched the sword from the ground.

Giles was in trouble, and he knew it. By the code, he had to stand until the challenge was accepted, and the time of the trial set. It was taking all the strength he had left to simply stay on his feet. There was a warm wetness spreading across his chest, and he didn’t want to think about that. He gritted his teeth, and held on.

"Because of the injuries this man has inflicted on me, I cannot stand against him, now." His eyes met Sir Victors’ as he said, "Which I regret. I’d like a chance to settle with you when I haven’t been worked over by your bully boys!" Looking back to the Preceptor, he continued. "I claim the right to name a champion. Do you acknowledge the right?"

The Preceptor nodded solemely. The man had courage, and he respected that.

"Then I name Buffy Summers as my champion, to fight in my stead, to prove the truth of my words in trial by combat." He swayed on his feet, and Buffy started to reach for him, but he stopped her, holding up a hand to ward her off.

"A girl?" The Knight Marshall sneered. "You expect me to stand on the field of honor and fight a girl? I am terribly sorry, Mr. Giles…I’m afraid your recent injuries have robbed you of your reason!"

"You are all well aware of the history of the Slayer." Giles said. "She is from an ancient line of proven warriors, who have stood for centuries against evil of this world, as well as of other dimensions. There is no one more qualified to stand on a field of honor." He turned slightly, and his eyes met Buffys’. "There is no one else I would sooner trust my life to."

The Preceptor thought for a moment, then said, "I accept you challenge for our order. We accept your champion. By our ancient tradition, the combat will begin at dawn. You will be given safe passage to the site of the trial, at the warehouse you are familiar with." He gave Giles a half bow. "Well played, sir!" With a gesture he called off his knights, and in seconds the yard was empty.

Giles turned back to the house, and his legs gave out from under him. Buffy caught him as he fell, crying out for Xander to help. Together they half led, half carried him into the house and laid him on the couch.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Buffy growled, as she eased him down onto the sofa.

He smiled weakly, "Buying you time," he said softly, "and arranging it so that you have to fight one, instead of fifty. In short, being your bloody Watcher! Ah!" he cried she forced him to lie down.

She unzipped his sweatshirt jacket, and saw fresh blood staining the bandages on his shoulder. "Oh god, Giles! You’re bleeding again! Willow, get some bandages!" The red headed girl ran for the stairs.

"I’m sorry, Buffy…There was no time to warn you…" She gave him a long look. She was angry. Really angry, with fire in her beautiful eyes that had made many a foe quail.

"Next time, make the time to warn me. You scared me half to death! I thought you were going to fight him right there." She cut the old bandages away and applied pressure to the wound, quite a bit more firmly than necessary, in his opinion. She looked down at his pale face, and then impulsively leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Don’t do that again!" she said.

"Promise…" he murmured.

In the next few hours, the group at the Summers house made as ready for the coming conflict as they could. The arguments started almost immediately.

Buffy tried to insist that Giles remain behind. "Giles, you’re barely mobile! That little scene in front wiped you out."

"I have to be there for the combat, Buffy," he said softly. "You are my champion. If you lose, I have to be there too."

"Why?" Buffy asked, a terrible suspicion growing in her mind. "I challenged the Knight Marshall to a trial by combat, Buffy, a fight to the death. If you fall, my life is forfeit."