The first weeks after Giles’ release were the worst. They were living in a seedy area of London where it was dangerous to walk abroad at night. It didn’t help that Willow was convinced they were being watched.

Willow had to find herself a job. That meant she had to spend a lot of time away from Giles. He was fine when he had Willow near him but at night, alone in their separate beds, she heard his cries as the nightmares tortured his mind.

He dreamed that he was still in hospital, that Willow had not been in time to rescue him. He saw himself old and broken, vegetating under the shade of his beloved Willow tree. He always woke with a wild scream and the inability to utter a coherent sound, his mind blank once more. Gradually, during daylight, with much coaching from Willow, his speech would improve, becoming lucid by bedtime.

Willow didn’t sleep until he slept, in case he should need her.

"Willow, Willow?" His singsong voice woke her gently. She sat up and saw him holding a tray for her. She blinked up at him. He was still in his pyjamas, looking alert and refreshed. ’No nightmare last night’, she thought, gratefully.

"Morning. Oh, breakfast," she said, glancing at the clock. It was only half-past four, "and so early." she smiled. ’Never mind.’ She thought.

"Job interview today," he said almost conversationally.

"Yes, only round the corner, Rupert. Will you be all right?" He nodded and poured her some tea. "Willow, do you think that I’m better?" He asked.

"Yes, Rupert. You’re getting there. I’m proud of you."

His gentle smile reminded her of his progress. She didn’t mind the hour, that smile made everything right.

With breakfast finished, he cleared the tray whilst she showered and dressed for her interview. Willow checked on him before she left. He was in bed, lying half out of his covers. Breakfast had worn him out. She kissed his temple and propped her picture against the lamp, so he could see her when he woke. She would be gone for half an hour at the most.

Her footfalls had no sooner ceased to echo in the hall, than four men raced up the stairs to their flat. The same four men that had taken Giles from Sunnydale, the day Buffy died. An athletic looking Rastafarian, who occupied the floor below, followed them silently, moving with feline stealth. He had been charged with a sacred duty to protect the Watcher and his Witch.

Giles woke with a start. Someone dragged him from his bed clamping a hand over his mouth to prevent him crying out. He was hauled to the bathroom struggling violently, his eyes wild with fear. The bath was full, the cold tap still running. He winced as an unknown needle rendered him numb and he toppled into the tub. The icy water revived him and his arms instinctively shot upwards. He yelled under-water as a knife slashed his wrists, the water turning red. He surged to the surface to take a giant breath; he tried to shout but was forcibly submerged once more. He held his breath and used both fists to hammer on the side of the bath to attract some attention but he was weakening. He opened his eyes and saw through the blood–filtered water the terrible sight of an unleashed Gorgon.

The lashing, flailing snakes and its petrifying gaze turned Giles’ assailants to crumbling pumice. The monsters eyes closed as he replaced his mirror shades. He covered the pleasant hissing purr of the snakes adorning his head with his hat and reached down to heave Giles out of the pool of blood.

As Giles spluttered and sucked in air, the Gorgon bound his wrists with hand towels to staunch the flow of blood. Giles had just got his breath back when Willow charged in.

"Giles?!" Her scream hurt her ears in the small room. The stranger steadily met her accusing glare.

"Willow, he helped…" Giles gasped.

"Mistress, get some bandages please." She was momentarily spellbound by his melodious voice.

"Willow?" Giles questioned. She sped off.

Giles’ lips were blue. He was sinking into shock. The Gorgon lifted him from the tub and wrapped him in towels, rubbing him vigorously to warm his cold limbs and body. Willow arrived with the bandages but was unprepared for the dark stranger’s exit from the bathroom, holding Giles effortlessly in his arms.

He put Giles on his bed and stripped off his damp things, then covered him snugly. He bandaged the right wrist while Willow did the left.

"Who are you?" Giles asked. His colour had returned though he could hardly keep his eyes open.

"I have no name. I was sent to protect you. Sleep now, one who watches." Giles’ eyes closed instantly. Willow tried to look deep into the strangers’ eyes but saw only herself reflected in the glasses.

"How did you stop them?" Willow murmured, aware of Giles’ peaceful sleep.

"My gaze is sudden death to those of impure heart or ill intent. I am descended from she who battled Perseus. My countenance is such that it turns flesh to flint. I am cursed with a siren’s voice that lures my victims to their doom. Mistress, do not ask me before we part to look upon my unguarded eyes. He needs you vital and warm. I will take my leave now…"

End of Pt 1

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