Fixed. Filing as a word doc - will attach and send to your profile addy. Can you look it over and tell me any changes you want, before I do a text-only version and send to Dana?

EDIT: BTW, 7200 words.

But of course.ETA: Damn! over unbelievable word count. It's not the longest I've ever written, the longest I finished though, by far.

aaaaaand, sent, to your profile addy.

And go you, on the finishing and the 7200 words and what's more important, every last fucking one of them being primo.

Thanks. That means a lot. It was sort of weird to have my mom tell me the same thing the other day. Not because she doesn't like my work...she does, beyond all reason, even, but, let's just say a different side to my ability.

Agreeing with Deb, erika. I don't dig crossovers as a general rule. This one of yours (and the new BandCandy/H:LotS one) is nothing like the general rule.

kat, that was amazing. You lifted all the little hairs on the back of my neck and arms. Thank you.

Thanks. Had three rules...two I stole from Larry David: No hugging.(except the Sex) No learning. No portals.

erika - I just read the first five pages of your Tim and Faith. *thud*

I haven't bought the H:LotS DVDs yet, and haven't watched since it went off the air (okay, there may have been a brief H:LotS overdose incident when it first came to Court TV, but I'll deny that under oath).

You give great Bayliss! I'd forgotten his voice. Just great. Faith--ditto.

We did that same thing...saved Thanksgiving last year. Cause let me tell you, nothing like being around your "nearest and dearest" to make "Die, you bastard, die!" have that extra resonance. (or maybe not. I've said too much.) I'd love to claim an astonishing talent(and maybe I can) but I respond to Tim's voice because it's like mine...I suspect he's a better girl, though. Thanks.

I let the muse off the V!Giles leash so she could play with a plot bunny she found. This takes place post S6, after the yellow crayon speech etc. Your philosophical extrapolations may vary.

Title: Change One Thing

And once again the world had not ended. But there were more graves of people he knew--or, at least, knew of, in Warren's case. Giles had arranged Tara's funeral and made sure Warren's family were notified. He was getting good at taking care of the aftermath of death. He'd thought for several hours on the matter before calling Tara's family back in Arkansas. The conversation had been brief, and Giles was immensely proud of himself that he hadn't raised his voice once. He didn't have to, Ripper had always sounded much more blood-curdling when he was calm, quiet, and matter-of-fact. If Mr. Maclay had shown one ounce of grief, of regret . . .

Well, Tara had declared the people she considered family months ago. Those people said good- bye to her. Giles wasn't sure if Willow had fully comprehended what was going on. Xander had been fairly blatantly holding her up during the simple graveside service. Buffy and Dawn stood with their arms around each other and their heads resting together. Giles had been oddly surprised to realize how much taller Dawn was than Buffy. Anya arrived late, teleporting in, and she said little. Giles noticed her watching Xander tend to Willow, and he'd seen a look on her face of blended affection and jealousy that nearly broke his heart. She hadn't remained after the service ended.

They had all gone to their separate homes--or, in Giles' case, the hotel room that served as stand- in. Willow had gone with Xander to his apartment, holding his hand like a small child afraid of losing Daddy in a crowd. Buffy had invited Giles to the Summers' house, but he needed some quiet hours to think about things, such as the past and the future and how to build a road between the two.

For a change, he was still on his first glass of Scotch several hours later, when the knock came on his door. He sighed, wondering which lonely Scooby had tracked him down. When he opened the door, however, a stranger greeted him. Not a human stranger, either, though it took several seconds to notice the delicately pointed ears hidden behind longish black hair. The creature's smile showed odd muscles at work in the humanoid face.

"Good evening, Mr. Giles," he said. "I am Benedict. I have been sent to make you an offer."

Giles sighed deeply. "And why on earth do you think I'm going to accept any kind of offer a strange demon offers me out of the blue? I am very familiar with the dozens of legends of stupid people accepting offers they shouldn't. Who the hell sent you, anyway?"

"Your bosses."

Now he laughed. "Oh, yes, the Council sent you. The Council barely acknowledges the possibility that there are demons who even exist who don't want to suck the world whole into mayhem."

Benedict was still smiling. "It wasn't the Council who sent me."

"True enough, I don't really work for them anymore, I work for--" He blinked and went silent.

The demon nodded. "Yes, them. The powers behind the Council--though the Council should really revise several of their procedures. Entrenched power does have an awful habit of becoming terribly conservative."

Giles backed up and felt for the chair he'd been sitting in. "You can't be. Anyone could say they represent the . . ."

Benedict raised his right hand and sketched a symbol in the air that, if drawn by someone of ill intent, would quite likely have wrecked the entire hallway with the divinely retributive fireball that would have landed. Giles himself wouldn't have risked drawing the symbol, not after some of the things he'd done in his life.

"My god . . ." he whispered.

"Oh, nothing so elevated, I promise. I'm just a messenger, a gift bringer."

"But--why?"

"You stopped young Willow from taking the dark path her grief had placed her on. She has been given great power, and there are many entities about who have been watching very anxiously to see which way she takes that power. The Hellgod Glory wasn't as large a threat as Willow. Glory's destruction would have been monumental, but Willow would not have stopped until the entire world was scrubbed clean. And she will be needed. We cannot afford to lose her."

Giles almost wished he could blame this confusion on whiskey. "You're saying--because we stopped Willow from destroying the world, the Powers that Be are sufficiently grateful to give us a gift."

"Yes."

"What's the catch?"

Benedict chuckled. "Humans, so suspicious. No wonder your gods have to threaten you as well as offer you joy, you wouldn't trust them otherwise. The only catch is that you all must accept the gift or none of you will receive it. And you must decide now. Humans have a tendency to overthink things."

If he hadn't seen that symbol, Giles would have been certain this was a particularly dark trick. "Who else have you spoken to?"

"You are the last. I have spoken with Buffy, Willow, and Xander. The original Scoobies. The ones who have suffered most here on the Hellmouth. You are the last."

"Did they accept?"

Benedict nodded.

Giles wished for his glasses so he could clean them. "What is this gift?"

"The chance to change one thing. The chance to undo one decision you made in your life, to take another path than the one you did."

Giles fell heavily into the chair he'd been searching for. "Change one thing . . ."

Benedict nodded, still smiling. "A do-over, as young Xander put it. Instead of going into a particular building on a particular night, you stayed home and watched television. Or anything."

"That--that would rewrite history."

"Yes, it would."

"Each of use would choose something different, our lives would fragment from each other."

"Surprisingly not. The choices they made would change fundamental things, but the prevailing tide of history remains. None of them asked never to be born or to never have heard of the Hellmouth or that they'd never met any of the others. They accept their lives, they just wish certain important things had never happened."

"May I know what they chose? Did Buffy ask that Joyce not have died?"

Benedict found another chair and made himself comfortable. "No, she didn't. She asked that she never caused Angel to lose his soul.. And it was not solely because she lost her love when Angelus returned."

"Jenny," Giles whispered. Benedict nodded. Giles flexed his hands, felt the click and catch in his joints from the damage which had never healed properly. If there had been more time, he was certain Jenny would have told him about Angel's curse and that they would have been able to find a way to deal with it. "So Buffy doesn't have to send him to hell?"

"No, but they don't have a happily ever after. The curse is still there, and he is reluctant to risk anything that could bring Angelus back. They fight about it, and he becomes a bit brutal in describing just how bad an idea it would be for his old self to return. He realizes how young she is and breaks off the romance. After a few dramatic moments on the theme that fate is cruel, Buffy realizes that it's not merely her heart at stake and they manage to become friends. Though not without the occasional wistful look of 'what might have been.'"

Giles nodded in approval. "What did Xander ask for? That he hadn't left Anya at the altar?"

"He thought of that, but he went even further. His request that he hadn't kissed Willow in that little drama which ended up nearly killing Cordelia and which brought Anyanka to Sunnydale in the first place."

"He chose Cordelia over Anya? Cordelia would never have stayed with him."

"On the contrary, my projection shows that Xander is pivotal in Cordelia coping after her family loses everything. His nobility makes her look beyond herself, and her refusal to accept defeat helps him become more than he was afraid to dream he'd be. Though I imagine the very successful male modelling career will take him quite by surprise." He smiled kindly at Giles' shock. "Best not think about it, I think."

Giles shook his head hard. "And Willow?"

"No Lethe's Bramble. And so Tara is there to keep her from losing herself to darkness."

"And so Tara survives," Giles smiled. It faded as Benedict shook his head.

"Nothing that was chosen affects Warren's path. But Willow is able to channel her grief more constructively. She becomes very strong and wise. It's really quite lovely to see."

"And so it falls to me, then, to chose my own one thing and bring all this to pass. My god." He got up to pace.

One thing. One thing out of dozens, hundreds, thousands. Leaving Buffy to her own devices out of some bizarre belief that such a strong woman could only thrive best on her own. Her strength had always been her friends, and children always grow up and become independent. Tell the truth, Rupert, you were desperate to see if you could function on your own anymore. You were afraid you were becoming dependent on the once-children and that you'd be left behind if you didn't leave first. Stupid pillock.

No, further back. That obscene ritual on her eighteenth birthday, his obedience to the Council despite his every instinct screaming that it was so bloody wrong. The look on her face when she realized there was no one she could trust completely anymore. He should have refused to allow it, defied them when they tried to replace him.

Forbidden her to see Angel? He laughed and dismissed that immediately. He wasn't sure that even the Powers were strong enough to stand in the way of an adolescent who'd been told "No, don't play with the pretty toy." There were choices to do over, and then there were pipe dreams.