Prologue: A prophecy come true...

The glass smacks against the floor, spilling its contents. As the crimson liquid seeps into the carpet, the shaking hand, which had once held it, reaches up and wipes the forlorn man's mouth. His jade eyes gaze across the room not seeing the once familiar wall. The voice in his ear is upset but he no longer hears the words. His knuckles have turned white, drained of blood. Sweat begins to bead on his forehead even though he is extremely cold. His voice cracks as he speaks the inevitable words. The words catch in his throat but somehow he whispers,

"Are you sure?"

It's the only words he can mutter. He doesn't hear the response; nor does he have to. He knows that the day he had always dreaded had arrived and nothing could slow the inevitable. He slams his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears that threaten to overflow his eyelids. He drops the receiver, which clanked emptily against the floor. Suddenly he feels dizzy and disoriented, his legs are wobbly and he falls to his knees. Sobs can be heard from the other end of the phone. The words clamor around inside his brain. He shuts his eyes tight again, removing his glasses, and picks up the receiver.

Slowly, standing he rasps, "I have to go."

He replaces the phone in the cradle and stands absolutely still. Then he throws the phone across the room, pieces shattering against the wall. His agonizing scream fills the empty house.

"Buffy!"

He runs to the bathroom where his knees buckle beneath him again and the thick taste of bile rises in his throat.

Watcher. Slayer. The fine line between friendship and destiny. Now his life comes crashing down around him again as it had with Jenny. Only this time he is in charge. He must put an end to what was once his precious slayer. The Chosen One. HIS Chosen One.

Giles splashes cold water on his face though he doesn't feel its ice cold pierce his skin. He sits down on his bed and gazes over at the picture on his nightstand. With trembling hands he picks it up and with shaking fingers wipes it. The picture is the only one he has of he and Buffy. It was taken the day she had moved into the dorms. Giles had been so proud of his slayer. The pride welling in his heart even now. He had protested of course when the camera came whipping out of Willow's book bag. He chalked it up to being photogenically challenged. Buffy had insisted and gave him the pout face. He was always a sucker for that. As he had tried to turn, Buffy jumped on his back and for a fleeting second Willow was able to capture their relationship. Crashing to the ground laughs echoed through the hallway, the slayer and watcher lost in the own reverie. The crash had elicited a few concerned stares from passersby but the witch, slayer and watcher didn't notice. That picture held a special place in both of their hearts. She, smiling broadly, arms wrapped around Giles' neck, holding on for dear life, he smiling shyly caught off guard by the sudden attack, the Watcher and Slayer were forever frozen in time.

"I'm sorry," he muttered taking the picture out of its frame. On the back is an inscription he had never bothered to read. She had given him the picture with the frame.

To the Only Man who ever knew "ME."

Thank you, Giles!

Luv,

Buffy

He closed his eyes tight to hold back the tears again. All his training could not prepare either of them for the battle they are about to face.