Buffy woke up in a cold, sticky sweat.
"What the actual fuck?" She said aloud waking Giles in the process.
He inquired what was the matter. She told him about the dream.
"Which is me and which one is thee? Huh?" He said thoughtfully.
"Maybe she is some kin to you after all. Seven rows of babies? And she picked up one?"
"Yes. It looked like me but it also looked like her. I don't know, Giles."
"Right now, going all the way back to Sunnnydale to get that number does not sound like such a bad idea. We gotta know who she is. And what she wants. Why pretend to be a child or American. What's in it for her? Why the lie?" Giles didn't realize the hypocrisy of his statement. He did pretend to be her teacher back in the second grade after all. A fact he had never divulged to the beautiful slayer.
"I wish Dessie was here. So, we could just ask her."
"Amen to that. As if she would be forthcoming."
A moment passed then there was a knock on the door.
Buffy and Giles looked at each other then the door.
"You don't think? I said wish and then said amen. Did we call for her? Silly, right?" Buffy asked feeling weary.
"Yes. No. I mean. That's just silly. Like you said, to think it's her. Isn't it?" Giles said with something resembling fear on his brow.
Buffy got out of bed and put his shirt on. Giles, clad in boxer briefs followed her.
He picked up a wooded broom as a weapon. He broke it across his knee and gave her half and he kept the other.
They approached the door like Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner on the other side with a chainsaw.
Giles tried to push her aside but a brusque elbow to the ribs sent him back.
"I am sturdier," she said.
And like that, she slowly unlatched the locks careful to avoid the peephole. Not wanting to alert who or whatever was on the other side.
It felt like an eternity at that door. Nut, finally, she got it open.
Lo and behold, there stood Odessa with perm shampoo in her hair and clad in an open bathrobe a battered New Kids on the Block t-shirt and boy shorts looking more confused than them. Terrified is the more accurate term.
"How in the fuck did I get here? Buffy?" She asked as squinted at Giles.
"Elisabeth, you dog. You finally got him, huh. Hi, Mr. Fairweather."