The realtor was too polite to do much more than blink at him when Giles gave her his specifications: office space for upwards of 30 (because recruiting new Watchers was the top priority, right after securing Cleveland); conference rooms; a gymnasium; and room for a rather large library. Those were musts, he told her. Any other amenities would be considered bonuses.

And that should have been the end of it, except that Andrew was there with him, so of course it wasn’t.

"Guest apartments," he said from the other chair. "For those very important visitors that we’re… going to be… entertaining?" His voice trailed off under Giles’ glare, ended in a question, but then, unfortunately, he seemed to remember that he was Giles’ self-appointed Right Hand Man and that that gave him certain *rights*. Such as the right to accompany Giles to the realtor’s office, to give his input (as the representative of the next generation, or so he said), and even more unfortunately, to speak his mind whenever he wanted to.

Andrew turned back to the realtor. "I imagine that we’ll be entertaining many very important visitors at our headquarters, so guest rooms are a must," he explained. Then, back to Giles: "Also, it would give a place for us Watchers to sleep, in case we need to—stay too late doing research, too tired to drive home? Or a place for some of the others to stay, when they come in from out of town?" Back to the realtor: "We’ll be having lots of visitors from out of town. From all over the world, even."

She nodded, not smiling, and Giles closed his eyes, raising his fingers to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Internally he sighed.

"Also, Mr. Giles—" And now Andrew sounded as if he was *warming* to his subject, his voice rising with every word. "You should have an Executive Suite. It could be a penthouse on the top floor, even. And—"

"A guest room or two might be a good idea," he interrupted quickly, before Andrew could suggest a four-star restaurant, a comic book museum, a movie theater, or, god forbid, something as extravagant as a bowling alley, because left to his own devices, Giles had no doubt that Andrew would.

"But no Executive Suite," he added. Then, as an aside to Andrew: "I have a very nice flat that I am quite fond of, thank you."

Now, though, three months later, as he was looking to spend his sixth night in a row in one of the guest rooms, he was starting to wish that he’d succumbed to Andrew’s wishes on that subject, as he’d ended up agreeing to so many of his others. A modern building, Andrew had suggested. One of those built of cement and bullet proof-shatter proof-one-way glass. It is up to us, Mr. Giles, he’d said, to take the Watcher organization into the next millennium. Even if we’re already technically there.

"…and all of this would be for bird watchers?" Giles remembered the realtor asking three times during their conversation. Giles had smiled thinly and had answered, "Yes," as Andrew had babbled on about them being *professionals*.

"Yes," he echoed, and really, he thought suddenly, if he was talking to his memories, it was time for him to go turn in. Except that he still had things to do, reports to read, assignments to make, research to do on the Great Evil that had been discovered in the middle of Golden Gate Park of all places, living underneath the merry-go-round, not to mention the ones threatening Prague, Denmark, and that little fishing town up in Alaska.

Except that if he went to bed, he would more than likely be unable to distract himself from the phone call that he’d received from Buffy earlier that day. Cordelia, she’d said. Another one of us gone, and when Giles had asked how, Buffy had said, In her sleep. She went peacefully.

But that wasn’t true, of course, and they both knew it. Unlike so many, she might not have passed away in the midst of a violent battle, but violence had led to her death, as surely as Giles had come to know that it would lead to all of their deaths.

It was something he preferred not to think about. He didn’t want to have to grieve any more.

Through the glass panels on either side of his door, he could see other Watchers still up and about, too, doing Watcher things. It didn’t really suit him to go to bed before they did, although six nights out of seven, he found that he was unable to outlast the newer, younger, still-eager recruits.

Maybe, he thought, if he just closed his eyes for a moment. If he just leaned back in his chair and let his eyes slide shut, just for ten minutes at the most, then he’d be able to pull out another hour or two of productivity from his reserves. He was sure of it. He thought, yes, but before he consciously made the decision to follow his own advice, his own plan, he realized he already had.

For a minute, he let himself relax.

Then the door to his office opened, the soft sound of wood moving over carpet registered in his brain, and he started up again, fully-awake. Or, at least, he was sure that he was—would have even been willing to administer the time-honored ‘pinch test’ on himself—except that it wasn’t one of the Watchers who walked through his door and it wasn’t Andrew either.

It was Cordelia.

An older Cordelia than the one he remembered, because the last time he’d seen her, she’d been young, 18, just graduated from high school. She’d been wearing a yellow dress and she’d staked her very first vampire—she’d waved the stake underneath his nose until he’d been forced to take a step backwards and ask her to please, watch where she pointed that thing as it was, ah, pointy.

This was not the Cordelia of his memory. This Cordelia had filled out, had grown into a woman. She was shutting the door softly behind her and eyeing him up and down. Then, her face broke out into a smile.

"Giles!" she said, almost fondly. "It really is you."

And Giles said the first thing that came into his head: "Good lord, I’ve died, haven’t I? I’ve had a heart attack or an aneurysm and I’m dead." *Now* he pinched himself, and yes, yes, it hurt, which only confirmed his fears. But Cordelia laughed.

"You could only be so lucky," Cordelia said. "Besides, now that you’ve got these spiffy new offices, you can’t honestly think that The Powers are going to let you leave it all behind. They’ve still got work for you to do yet."

"But—" Giles waved his hand between his body and hers. "But you’re here."

"And you’re still asleep, even if you did just pinch yourself, mister." She started walking across the room towards him. "I’m making my final rounds. Started in L.A., took a trip down to South America—and can I just ask? Why didn’t we ever get to go to any fun countries while I was on the Scooby team? Mexico would have been close enough. Heck, I even would have settled for Canada. I could have found myself a nice Mountie."

"Mountie," Giles repeated.

Cordelia grinned at him. "Never underestimate the power of a uniform. But, where was I? Oh, South America, and now I’m here. Next stop is Italy, then a brief detour through Tibet, because that’s where I heard Oz was, and then I’m going to finish up in Africa. Last night on Earth, world tour, what more could a girl ask for?"

Giles didn’t have a response to that, but Cordelia didn’t seem to need one. She sat down on the edge of his desk, off to his side, facing him. Giles was relatively sure that it was the first and only time anyone had sat on the desk, because although Andrew had tried once, in the early days, Giles had barked at him when he’d gotten within four inches of the surface.

Cordelia wouldn’t mess up any of his papers, though. And, according to her own words, this was only a dream. He watched as her crossed ankles swung back and forth.

"You’re just here to say goodbye?" he asked finally. "I should be flattered, I guess, that I made the list."

She gave him a Look. "Of course you made the list. You’re *Giles*." There was more to it than that, though, Giles could tell, from the way her eyes kept searching his face, but she wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. "Also, The Powers owed me a few. More than a few. And, okay, I used most of them on my gang back in L.A., true, but I have a few left over for the rest of you."

Her hand moved from her lap to Giles arm, which he only now realized was resting on the desk next to her, and he wasn’t at all sure that it had been a moment earlier, which actually supported her claim that this was all a dream. The touch was light, cool, but very real. Also, sure and mature, somehow, in a way that he was pretty sure it hadn’t been the last time he’d seen her.

"I know a few things now, I’ve seen them, and while I’m not going to impart my wisdom to you the same way I did to Angel—" A small, sad smile passed across her face. "—I can tell you that everything’s going to be okay. You’re feeling overwhelmed, too many new evils rising, not enough people trained to deal with it, but you’re doing everything right."

She squeezed his arm one more time, then hopped off the desk again. She didn’t turn to leave, though. Instead, she stepped around behind Giles, so that she was standing behind his chair. Then she reached over the back and rested her hands on his shoulders, fingers pressing down over tight muscles.

"Relax," she said. "I’m not your student anymore. And besides, you’re way too tense. If I don’t do this, when you wake up you’re going to have a hell of a crick in your neck, and I run the risk of you being so focused on that, you’ll forget the rest of what I’ve said here tonight."

"I somehow very much doubt that," Giles said.

"Humor me. I’m the one who’s dead, remember? I *know* things."

And in truth, her hands—no ghostly touch—did feel good, easing strain he’d gotten too used to carrying around with him.

"You all did a good thing, waking the slayers," she continued. "A few of The Powers were quite impressed, I’ll have you know. And they wanted me to tell you that. But the message that everything will be okay, that’s from me."

"It never ends," Giles heard himself saying. "You’re dead, Cordelia. Anya’s gone, Tara. Every week, some of our girls die. When will it stop?"

"It won’t," she said. "There will always be evil, just as it’s up to people like you to ensure that there will always be good. And that’s what you need to do, Giles. That is your purpose: to restore the balance between good and evil, because I think that we can both agree that Evil got a little out of hand last year, didn’t it?"

She lifted her hands and brought them to Giles’ temples, rubbing her forefingers in small circles, easing some of the headache that was such a constant in his life now, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like for it to not be there.

"But that’s not important, and my time here is limited, just a moment or two more. This is what you need to know: you’re on the right path—no readjustment needed, unlike Angel. You’re doing what needs to be done, and you’ll bring the balance back. Then you’ll hold the balance. That is what you’ll do. And everything will be alright."

Giles wanted to ask what she meant by that, by ‘alright’, because it had been so long since he’d considered anything to be such, but then he heard the door to his office open again, and in that instant, Cordelia’s fingers were gone, her presence was gone, and he realized that his eyes were closed, and…

He opened them and found Andrew looking back at him.

"Mr. Giles," he said. "You were asleep. You should head to your flat, or up to one of the rooms. Go to bed."

But Giles shook his head, because he felt suddenly energized again. Like he’d hoped he would, if he just closed his eyes for a few minutes. He reached up to run his hand over his neck, feeling looser there than he had in some time, and it was almost like he could feel Cordelia there again, standing behind him. Reassuring him.

*Everything will be alright.*

"I think I’ve got an hour or two left in me, thank you," he said. "But I appreciate your concern."

Andrew looked at him skeptically, but he nodded anyway. He usually nodded at whatever Giles said, no matter if he disagreed.

Then, on impulse, Giles continued, because maybe if he said it, it would be more than just a dream, it would be real. "Do you think everything’s going to be alright, Andrew?"

Now Andrew looked confused, but also proud that Giles was asking his opinion. "Of course it will be, Mr. Giles. That’s what we do: We save the world. We make it alright." Andrew sounded so sure, as if it was such a given, that in that instant, Giles believed, really believed, like he hadn’t since… he couldn’t remember when.

"Of course, of course it will be," he said, and from somewhere far away, Giles was pretty sure that he heard Cordelia say, "Fine, don’t believe me when *I* tell you."

"Yes," he said after Andrew had gone again. "I do believe you."

There was a soft touch on his shoulders then, one more time, soothing, and then Cordelia’s presence was gone again.

Giles closed his eyes for a few moments, and when he opened them again, he turned back to his work.