“What did we do to Giles?”

As a blue light cascades through Alasdair Coames’ townhouse, a horrifying shriek is piercing the air. It’s coming from the corpse of Rupert Giles.

“Focus, all of you! Put Giles foremost in your thoughts!” Alasdair yells at the Fairweather sisters, as well as Angel and Faith. He begins to finish the Lazarus Incantation, yelling the Aramaic as loud as he can. Faith can hardly hear him over the din, but the four concentrate, remembering the man who meant so much to them all.

Lavinia thinks of ignoring Rupert’s passions as he played as a child. “Please, Rupert… our carelessness darkened your life.”

Sophie watches her nephew storm out of the room, ripping the young Giles from his magical heritage… “Let us make it right. Let us give you a second chance.”

Faith simply remembers him. His smile. His warmth. His care and his love. “C’mon, G. I never said this to anyone before in my life, but I need you.”

Angel thinks back to the Seed Chamber, the moment he broke the Watcher’s neck… “Just this. Just let me fix this.” It sounds like a prayer.

Suddenly a huge flash of light erupts, surrounding the five as Alasdair completes the final chant. As the light fades away, the five eagerly peer at where the slab was. None of them say anything. They stare at the results of their actions.

Alasdair is the first to close his mouth, which had been hanging open in shock. His words stammer out… “Rupert Giles?”

“Yes, yes. You’ve resurrected me. Huzzahs all around. But there is an extinction-level crisis unfolding, so can we all please pick our jaws up off the floor and attend to the business at hand?”

In front of them is Giles, but it’s not quite what they thought. Instead of the familiar older man she was expecting, Faith finds herself staring into the eyes of a teenage boy, smoke furling around him, the room wrecked by the mystical blast.

The boy looks up at them as he starts to move, reaching his feet for the floor and not realising why he can’t reach it. He sees them all, continuing to stare at him.

“Good heavens people, this isn’t your first exposure to magic. Surely you’ve seen stranger things?”

A few minutes later and Giles is standing in front of a full-length mirror. His face is screwed up in horror and alarm. He is raging.

“BUGGER! What have you idiots done?” His shouts can be heard on the London streets outside.

Alasdair looks suspiciously at the Fairweather sisters, who are hovering nearby. “Lavinia, Sophronia… When I told you all to focus on Rupert, you did imagine him as an adult?”

Lavinia hesitates before she speaks. “Well, let’s be honest. Gray hair is so unattractive. Besides, they’re far cuter at this age, aren’t they, before the hormones ruin anything? Frankly, I pictured him younger. Ten, perhaps. He appears at least twelve.”

Sophie races to her nephew’s side, pinching his cheeks. “Hmm. He’ll be getting spots soon. Best to start a skin care regimen now, try to minimise the damage…”

“YOU HAVE RUINED MY LIFE! AGAIN!” Giles’ anger is unabated by his aunt’s needless jokes. Angel walks to the sisters and Alasdair.

“It’s going to be okay. We did it,” he smiles. “I mean, yeah, there were hiccups. But we pulled off resurrection in a world with no magic. This is just a little glitch. We’ll… I don’t know, find an artifact that’ll age you.” Giles does not look too optimistic and fires Angel a sarcastic look.

Sophie wants Giles to stay as he is. “Oh, not too much older. He was getting such deep crow’s feet. Moisturiser was a foreign concept to this one, no matter how hard we tried.”

Angel smiles slightly, unnerved by Sophie’s fussing. “It may not have worked out exactly like we wanted, but this is great. This is amazing.” He turns to Faith, who’s staring at her mentor. “Right, Faith?”

The Slayer doesn’t answer him. She goes over to the young boy, bends down in front of him and looks him in the eyes. “In your head… it’s you, right? The same G who played Mr. Miyagi to my Daniel-San?”

Giles looks at her for a moment and then gets distracted. “I…”

Faith realises what he’s looking at and covers her chest instantly in alarm and disgust! Giles stammers after her, flustered. “Yes! Yes, of course I have all the memories, thought processes… I’m the man you knew in every way.”

“Great.” She looks at him, hands still covering her chest. Giles looks at the ground, a dark shade of purple in his cheeks. “Then, we’re five by five.”

Angel’s smile disappears. He apologises to Giles for the way the spell has brought him back. But at least, they’ve got him back. Angel thinks he was in paradise, like Buffy was once. Giles turns instantly and corrects him.

“Buffy was in Heaven. Yanked from a state of paradise back into a world of pain. That did not happen to me. I was alternately in thrall to a demon and trapped within you, captive audience to a century of atrocities and your schizophrenic mix of guilt and delight over them. No, I would have been quite grateful to you for taking me away from all that…”

He starts to get angry and his voice raises. He turns and points at Angel. “If not for the fact that you killed me in the first place! Then resurrected me using obscene sorcery the like of which I’d never condone, while there’s an apocalyptic crisis you should be attending to instead! But putting all that aside for a moment…” He turns back to the mirror and looks down at his reflection in horror!

“You brought me back unrecognisable! What kind of life can I have like this? I’m too young to drive! To work! To have an adult relationship without getting the woman jailed! You’ve maimed me!”

The room falls into stunned silence. Alasdair and Angel take in the words, hanging their heads. Faith looks away. Only the Fairweather’s maintain their conversation, with Lavinia stopping to talk to Giles. “I’m sorry. What you said was entirely valid. But that was adorable.”

Sophie, excited, starts squealing in glee. “Oh, the flailing sleeves!”

Alasdair coughs to get their attention. “If I may?”

He looks down at his old friend. “Rupert, you are quite right. There is a crisis that requires our immediate attention. Whistler, Pearl and Nash took my entire collection of occult artifacts. If they are not yet ready to unleash their plague of magic, they are very close. I do not mean to belittle what’s happened to you. But I am certain you agree that it must be of secondary concern.”

Angel turns to the group. “I’ll go after them.” As he moves however, Giles gets in his way. Angel looks down.

“Don’t be a fool. You’ll need all the help you can get.”

Angel suddenly realises: “Buffy! I have to tell her. She’ll be…”

“No!” Giles surprises the room with his defiance. As they turn to him, he bows his head and shakes it.

“Please, don’t. She can’t cross the ocean in time to be of any help and given what we’re facing, well, I should like to feel my resurrection will last more than a matter of hours before making any bold announcements.”

Angel understands, and taking advantage of the silence, proceeds with explaining the plan. He needs Alasdair to use his volumes – find out any information at all that can help them. Any information about distilling magic. Giles will remain to help.

“I seem to remember strategy being my role…” The former Watcher whispers, clearly annoyed. Angel then turns to the sisters: they need weapons, any magical totems, absolutely anything that could help them. Lavinia raises her finger to her chin, thoughtfully, but is honest.

“We don’t have many favours owed us actually…”

“Tends to be the other way around…” Sophie butts in.

“…but we’ll do out best.” Lavinia finishes.

As Angel turns to Faith, she doesn’t allow herself to look at him. She needs time to adjust. “I know what I need. Meet you back at the house.” And with that, she walks out of the door.

Later, at the apartment of Faith Lehane, Giles is up a ladder, reaching for one volume in his huge curated collection. Angel asks him if he knows what he’s looking for.

The twelve year old doesn’t take his eyes off the rows of books in front of him. “Of course. Sharing your body brought me quite up to date on the finer details of the ungodly mess you’ve made of everything. I’m finding little about Whistler. But if they’re distilling mystic artifacts into energy, there might be enough ambient magic for spells to work, so these grimoires…”

As he gathers three or four books into his hands and scoots quickly down the ladder, he turns and catches Angel and his aunts staring at him, with big grins on their faces.

“What the bloody hell are you all staring at?”

Angel sheepishly looks away, but the smile remains. “Sorry… I know you’re not thrilled with the new body, but I just… you’re alive.” He turns to Sophie, who is holding one of many large bags scattered around her. He asks if they found weapons. Sophie excitedly starts to open the bag and then answers.

“Oh. Not a one. We’ve brought something better…”

Lavinia grabs another bag and starts to pull brightly coloured clothing from it, an assortment of shapes, logos and styles. “Topman’s was having a smashing sale on rock-inspired fashions. Bowie, Jagger… all those blokes from your era, Rupert! With a modern twist, of course.”

Sophie has already started messing with Giles’ hair, pressing articles of clothing around him. She squeals, yet again, with delight. “Oh, that is adorable!”

Giles looks at one of the garments, a lime-green number. “I wasn’t resurrected. I’m in Hell.”

A while later, Giles slowly opens the door to the roof access of the building. He finds his Slayer sitting on the ledge, looking out at London. He approaches her slowly and then coughs to make his presence known. “Faith?”

She turns to him, wipes tears from her cheeks. She was crying and tries instantly to hide it from him. “Hey. I was just coming down. Raided some demon dens for weapons.” He approaches her, hands in his pocket. Faith looks down at the clothes he’s now wearing. “Hiding from your great-aunts, huh?”

Giles looks down at his ensemble. “They seem to regard me as a living dress-up doll. It’s horrible. They’re stronger than me. If not for the hair gel they slathered me with, I’d have never slipped free.”

He places his hand gently on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She doesn’t stop the tears as they begin to fall again. “Just tired. I was never a weeper till I started hanging out with Angel. It’s like an angst contact high.”

Giles takes his glasses off for a moment and replaces them, looking nervously at her. “I… ah… do apologise for any inappropriate staring on my part.”

“It ain’t your fault. You’re a twelve year-old-boy.” Faith turns, trying to reassure him, but Giles’ face screws together in anger and he stamps his feet on the roof.

“But I’m not! I’m a grown man, damn it all! I wear Saville Row clothes and drink Darjeeling tea and appreciate the nuances of Dostoyevsky in the original Russian! I am not some flighty, hormonal child who believes the world revolves around him and throws tantrums when he doesn’t get his way!”

Faith stares at him. He’s embarrassed and looks down once again at himself. “That would have sounded better if my voice hadn’t cracked.”

He takes a seat on the ledge next to her and exhales deeply. “God. How does anyone survive adolescence?”

Faith winks back at him. “Hey. I’m still waiting for things to start making sense.”

“I’m sorry, Faith.”

His words take her by surprise. “For what?”

“Failing you. Leaving you. Coming back as the polar opposite of what you need.”

Faith gets up and looks out, lets herself share openly for once. “I need to get my act together. Stop looking for a daddy figure who’ll take care of me, tell me where to go and what I do… and make me feel all special. All that ever does is bite me in the ass. And it’s not like I ever had it anyway, so what’s the big loss?”

Giles takes on a serious tone and turns to support her. “It’s a tremendous loss, Faith. It’s something every child deserves. Something you never had. It’s as important that you grieve it, as it is that you move on.”

The tears finally flow freely down the Slayer’s face and this time, for the first time in as long as she can remember, she doesn’t try to hide or wipe them away. She looks straight at the boy next to her. “I am glad you’re back, you know? You spent your whole life helping other people figure out theirs. You deserve a shot at your own. I know this sounds like one of those lies grown-ups tell kids… but it’s true. What counts is who you are inside. The package you come in doesn’t matter.”

She pulls him into a big hug, the pair weeping for a moment before Faith’s eyes widen in horror. “I’m going to assume you have a roll of quarters in your pocket.”

Giles breaks away, sheepishly, turning away to hide his excitable teenage hormones. “Pound coins, actually. That would be more credible.”

Faith grins and shrugs. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. Like Angel said, we’ll fix you up. And even if we can’t, you know how many people would kill for a do-over on their lives?”

Giles shakes his head. “Those wishes are predicated on reliving the same life, with the benefit of hindsight. That is not my circumstance. Do you know, I’d finally managed to figure out quite a bit? About myself, the world, my place in it. Now all that has gone.”

It’s his turn to get slightly upset, hormones raging inside. “I find myself stumbling into an uncertain future, groping in the dark, surrounded by a world that makes no sense.”

Faith smiles at him through her tears. “Welcome to the club.”

“I said I’d come back as the opposite of what you need. I should amend that statement,” he says. “In sharing Angel’s body, his mind, I have seen all you’ve been through since my passing. All you’ve done. And I know this: you may have wanted the old me back, but you don’t need him anymore, Faith. None of you do.”

Later in the evening, Alasdair Coames finds himself busy rearranging his home. The mystical creatures he protects as pets hover around, helping him clear up the chaos. A gentle knock on the door gets Alasdair’s attention, and he is pleased when he turns around to find Giles. “Hello Alasdair.” Placing his pile of books down, Alasdair turns to his friend and asks him if he’s alone.

“Yes, despite the best efforts of the kindly souls who stopped to enquire if I’d lost my mum.”

The youngster walks over to the books Alasdair has placed on a nearby table. “I see you had the same thought. That we might recapture some of our former glory as spell casters.”

Alasdair scoffs slightly. “If not, I’m uncertain what use we can be.”

Giles walks around the chaos that was once Alasdair’s collection and reaches down for a bottle of brandy that’s sitting on a dishevelled cabinet. He picks up a glass and begins to pour. “Thank you Alasdair. For helping them in my absence. I’m sorry for what it’s cost you.”

“Nonsense. It was good to have a hand in the game again. And frankly I’m not sure how much help I actually was. Rupert… I have a confession. Throughout, I advised Angel and Faith to leave you dead.”

“I’d expect no less. I’d have said the same.” Giles is not amused as Alasdair removes the brandy from his hands and takes it, handing him a can of soda instead.

Giles speaks in barely veiled sarcasm. “Oh yes. Of course.” Alasdair smiles, grinning at his friend. “And look what happened: as a direct result of their actions, our enemies now have the power to murder billions. You were right, Alasdair.”

“Perhaps. But it is good to see you again, old friend.” They clink their drinks together, Alasdair taking a sip. He then turns to his younger companion. “What is it like? Being so young?” he asks.

“Confusing. Your body is this alien thing you have minimal control over.”

Alasdair grins again. “Ah. Like being old then.”

Giles sighs, looking down at himself, dressed in the latest fashion. “I should be so lucky. I’m coming to the inescapable realisation that I am not simply my old self in a new body. Everything’s so overwrought. I’m positively humming with nervous energy. There’s got to be a pill for this.”

Alasdair looks slightly concerned about his friend’s upset, but looks at him sincerely. He tells him that it may be strange, but surely it must be better than being deceased.

“Preferable to being slave to a demon for all eternity. Marginally.”

“And do you know how you got this way?”

“My mental great aunts preferred me…”

Alasdair nods, seemingly confirming his own suspicions. “Yes, they pictured you as you were when they first brought out your mystic talents at age ten. But you are older than that. There must be a reason.”

Giles sighs loudly and sinks into the nearest armchair, throwing his hands up into the air. A cat with wings nestles next to him, clearly liking the attention.

“I suppose we all have a ‘what if’ in our lives. If I’d only married this woman, taken that job. For me it was entering the Watcher Academy as an older boy. More able to endure the frightful experiences. Perhaps I’d have made wiser choices, never summoned Eyghon. Been a better Watcher. A better man.”

He looks up and the cat chases after two of the faerie folk flying around the room. “As I was being resurrected… remade… I felt myself becoming that ten year-old again. That frightened, overwhelmed child. I fought against it.”

Alasdair sits opposite him, looking at his friend earnestly. “And you got your wish. Now, what are you going to do with it?”

Less than an hour later, Giles stands atop the coffee table in his former apartment, now owned by Faith. He turns to address the group: Alasdair, Angel, Faith and the Fairweathers.

“Right. We have work to do.”

He has their undivided attention. “We’ve been over the combat strategy. The goal is not to win, which is unlikely, but to prevent the enemy from carrying out their plan. The essential task is depriving them of magic items. Destroying them.”

He turns to his warriors. “Angel, Faith. Your role is physical combat. Alasdair and I hope to be able to tap into ambient mystic energy and use it to cast spells. It’s a bit of a long shot… well, more than a bit. Failing that, we resort to more…”

He looks over at his aunts, both holding Molotov cocktails in their hands. He sighs. “More conventional options…”

“I’m going to smell like petrol for a week,” Sophie holds her nose away from the bottle in her hand. Lavinia elbows her and throws her a stern look.

Angel speaks up, stepping forward. “Listen… This is practically a suicide mission. Whistler could kill us all himself. I wish you’d let me…”

Faith turns to him, stupid look on her face. “Why do you even bother saying crap like that?”

Giles speaks louder, interrupting her. “Angel does raise a point I wish to address. Our adversaries must be stopped. You’ve left messages for Buffy, Willow and others. I’d feel better if we’d actually reached some of them, but we’ve done all we can to ensure the fight will go on, should we fall.” He looks down for a moment. There are tears in his eyes.

“If some of us do, including myself, I want your word that your energies will remain focused on the task at hand. I am… grateful for what you’ve done for me. To know that one is missed… valued…” He sniffs the tears back. “Forgive me. I had no intention of… well…”

He shakes off the emotion and smiles at them. “What I mean to say is, it is appreciated. And I do not want you to try it again. Even if resurrection were an option, which with Eyghon slain, I dare say it is not, if I die, I am content to remain that way.”

“As am I.” Alasdair nods.

“I should have died three centuries ago.”

Faith shrugs. “Never figured I’d last this long.”

Sophie is horrified, reaching for her sister in shock. “You’re all daft. I want to be resurrected. With a tighter tummy this time.”

Lavinia rolls her eyes, but nods reassuringly at her. “I’ll resurrect you.”

Sophie cheers up instantly. “You’re a love.”

Now it’s Giles’ turn to roll his eyes. “Duly noted. Now that’s out of the way, all that remains is to locate our targets.”

Angel reaches into his coat pocket and goes over to Giles. He hands him a green stone, wrapped in a piece of leather. “Enchanted lodestone. Used to be a dime a dozen. Getting harder to come by, but they can still be had for the right price.”

Giles takes the stone excitedly. He pulls out a large map of Britain and lays it out on the coffee table he was just standing on. “It’ll be drawn to concentrations of mystic energy. I’ll search along known ley lines…”

Lavinia points excitedly at a glow on the map. “There! In the Cotswolds.”

Giles shakes his head. “No, that’s the Deeper Well. They wouldn’t go near it… too much risk of waking an Old One.”

“But that’s quite a flare of energy, for a place where everyone’s dormant. It bears investigating if…” Alasdair is interrupted however, as Giles sees something else. Another concentration of energy. The look on his face changes from one of success to horror.

“Hang on. There’s something closer. Building in intensity by the moment…” Then he realises. The lodestone shatters at the end of the leather into smithereens. Alasdair and Faith both shield themselves from the sudden barrage.

“They’re in Hackney. They never even left London. Which can mean only one thing…” He looks up at Angel, his eyes wide, his mouth agape.

“They’re doing it now. They’re unleashing the plague!”

On a rooftop in Hackney, Whistler has gathered his stolen mystical artifacts. Pearl and Nash stand and hover around them, focussing their eyebeams, melting the objects down. The energy coming from them burns into blood speckles in the air. The power is immense and the whole city block seems to shudder.

In the apartment, Giles gives Angel and Faith a look. They head straight for the roof and within minutes are racing as fast as they can across the rooftops of the English capital, racing in the direction of Hackney.

On the streets below, they’re followed, firstly by the Fairweathers and Alasdair, trailing in the sister’s car. No one sees Nadira Kureishi, Slayer and Faith’s former student watching. She sees Faith and Angel above her.

She follows.

In Hackney, on the roof-top, Whistler smiles. He watches as the green fire burns and tells his followers that this is what they’ve all been waiting for.

“It’s all coming together. The old world wasn’t working anymore. This new one’s dying. Ain’t no half steps. You want to change things, you gotta be bold.”

“From here on out, everything’s going to be different.” He looks around, waiting. Any second now…

“One way or another,” he says as Angel and Faith descend on to the rooftop, weapons ready, determination on their faces.

He smiles. “It all ends. Here.”