"I wanted to kill him, Giles," Buffy said. "It wasn't a 'temper' or a 'fit of pique' or any other way you might want to Britishize it. I didn't want to just slap his face and move on. I wanted to kill him."

After a silent, sullen, and quickly-eaten dinner, Buffy had fled the UC Sunnydale campus for Giles' house, where she now sat on his couch, staring into space with a cup of hot cocoa (which Giles now kept along with his tea) cooling in her hands. Giles sat in a nearby armchair with a cup of Earl Gray, listening. Xander and Anya, who had also stopped by for a visit—and to sell magazine subscriptions—listened from the kitchen, where they were preparing their own snacks.

"Very well then," Giles said. "I shan't try to 'Britishize' it. It's a good thing Riley stopped you."

"Is it?" Buffy demanded.

"The world has only one Slayer, Buffy," he began. Then he paused for a moment, recalculating. "Well, two, but the other went rogue and is now in a coma."

"Which should serve as a warning to you!" Anya called from the kitchen.

Giles sighed and bowed his head, as if praying for strength. "Anya, please. This is serious."

"I wasn't kidding. I was trying to assist you in delivering your high-minded lecture."

Giles sighed again.

Anya turned to Xander. "That wasn't the appropriate response?"

Xander shook his head. "Giles likes to do his own high-minded lectures. Nice try, though."

"This isn't a joke, Xander!" Giles snapped. "Buffy is no use to the world from a prison cell!" He turned back to Buffy. "And even if you thought you could get away with it, turning your powers on humans is a path you don't want to start down."

Buffy leaned forward and locked eyes with him. "Actually, I think I do."

Giles was taken aback. He stared back at her, trying to formulate a response, until Xander dropped onto the end of the couch opposite Buffy. "I know it's not a joke," he said softly. "You're the one who's not getting it. Buffy's the Slayer. She's supposed to fight evil. So she goes out every night and she kills vampires and demons and all the oogie-boogies that go bump in the night. But she runs into this human monster, and she can't touch him."

"Racism if you ask me," Spike called from the bathroom.

"No one did," Xander called back.

"Come on—seriously! If it was me pulling this shite, I'd already be dust."

"Remind me again why you aren't?" Buffy called menacingly.

That shut him up. Xander continued after a moment's pause to be sure that he wouldn't be interrupted again. "In fact, not only can't she touch him, as the Slayer, she has to protect him."

"There are human institutions…" Giles protested weakly.

"They're failing," Anya interrupted. "They always do." She sighed as she sat down beside Xander. "By the horns of D'Hoffryn, I wish I still had my powers. This is just the kind of job I could get creative with and really enjoy."

For once, this oft-repeated wish was met with nods and murmurs of agreement. After that, the conversation fell into a lull, and probably would have moved on to another topic. After all, no topic, no matter how dire, can occupy all of a person's attention, all of the time. In fact, Giles was just opening his mouth when the phone rang.

"Let the machine get it," Giles said, although no one had moved toward it.

"You have a machine?" Buffy teased.

"There are some pieces of twenty-first century technology that even Watchers approve of," Giles grinned back.

The phone rang four more times, then there was the click of the machine picking up. "Hello. This is—"

Willow's voice came on over the recorded message. "Buffy, are you there?"

"—Rupert Giles. Please leave your—"

"Buffy, if you're there, please pick up the phone."

"—Name, number, and message—"

"Giles, if Buffy's not there and you see her, please send her home. I mean, our room."

"—at the tone."

Willow's voice broke. "Something awful has happened."

Giles leaped up and reached for the phone, but Buffy was already out the door.