Donna returned to Toby's office with a sceptical C.J in tow. C.J closed the door behind her, but she was waiting for Toby to tell her what the joke was. Toby ignored that.

"The man on the phone is Rupert Giles, he was Watcher to the Slayer in Sunnydale. Buffy died last night. Rupert, this is C.J Cregg, Press Secretary to the President of the United States."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr Giles," C.J said, "but I don't understand what is happening."

"C.J Cregg?"

"Mr Giles."

"Claudia?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I knew Miles Winters, and Bernard Crowley."

C.J sunk onto the arm of Toby's couch. Toby waited for Giles to say something more; his tone suggested a warning. Donna waited for C.J to show some sign of what had happened. The air was still.

"Okay," Donna said forcibly. "I want an explanation."

C.J looked pleadingly at Toby. He swallowed; it was not a look he'd seen from her a long time. She looked defeated.

"I can't do it," Giles said, sounding it.

Toby made a face, but spoke, flatly.

"There are things in world that people don't like to think about. Monsters, demons, vampires. But we have the stories and the warnings because they are real, and we do need to know about them, even if we don't believe. It is always real. Only a few people know for certain, and there is one woman whose mission, whose Calling, is to fight the demons and vampires. She is called the Slayer. There is only ever one. When one dies another woman is Called, and she becomes the Slayer. She is trained by a member of the English based Council of Watchers, whose job it is to protect the Slayer, maintain secrecy, know about demons. Slayers are given extraordinary strength, quick reflexes and quick healing. You were Called last night."

Donna didn't like the sound of the capital letter on 'Called.'

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"You are the Chosen one," Giles said, "the one girl in all the world given the strength to fight the vampires, the demons, and the forces of evil."

"They like that part," C.J said, with the ghost of a smile.

"Yes," Giles said, "especially the part about destiny and saying the world."

"What?" Toby asked, hearing the venom in Giles's voice.

Giles didn't answer and C.J wouldn't meet Toby's eye.

"We need to know what's going on," he continued after a moment.

"What's the problem?" Donna asked. "I can do this."

"But you shouldn't have to," Giles said. "You are too old to be Called. And Buffy's death should not have Called a Slayer, anyway. Which means that we need some serious information; this is being made to happen. I, for one, want to know what it is."

"Watchers?" C.J said.

"The Council gave me Rupert's number, and that was it," Toby said.

"I don't know anything," Giles said.

"So, who would?"

"They'd have to have connection to the Council," said Giles.

"So we want someone with English connection, a love of trivia; everyday things and especially herbs or myths and fairy tales. And an ability to stare at things in the face, anything, until it gives itself up," Toby said slowly.

"Hey," Giles said, in faint protest.

"Me, too," Toby said.

"And the President," C.J said.

"What about Lord Marbury?" Donna added.

"John Marbury?" Giles asked. He began to sound interested again, "Earl of Croy?"

"Marquess of Needham and Dolby," Donna said. And she and C.J both said "Baronet of Brycey," with wistful smiles.

"Yep, he's one of us," Giles said.

"What about the President?" Donna asked.

"I honestly don't know," Giles said.

"Josiah Bartlet, he was at the London School of Economics when he was in his mid twenties."

"Jed Bartlet?"

"Yes, and you honestly didn't know he was the President?" C.J said.

"Yes. Yes. I live on the Hellmouth, Claudia."

"Okay, enough with that," Toby said sharply.

"I am sorry, Mr Giles," C.J said, "I really am."

"I just lost her, Claudia, I can't do this now."

"No."

"We'll call you again if we know anything," Toby said. "You'll do the same for us?"

"Of course," Giles said.

Toby gave him his direct number and Giles hung up.

Toby was beginning to look thoroughly annoyed again, whereas before he had been concentrating on the problem at hand, the new problem was he still had to write a campaign kick-off speech.

C.J looked sad, bone-wearyingly and soul-achingly sad.

Donna felt better about herself than she had in a while. However inexplicably, and however short-lived it would be, she had a purpose. A Purpose, even. She wanted to know what happened now, before someone found a way to take it from her.