As Buffy raced toward Giles' apartment, she tried not to overreact. Unfortunately, it was a losing battle.

After all, this was Giles. There were only so many reasons why he would have sent her an emergency message through an owl less than twelve hours after they had closed the Hellmouth, and they all ended with the word 'apocalypse'.

So when she finally burst through his front door - just barely refraining from smashing it off its hinges in the process - she expected the worst; Giles in a state of panic, Giles held hostage with a contingent of baddies ready to jump her, Giles missing altogether, with nothing to go on but a blood stain on the carpet.

What she found was Giles sitting at his dining room table, having a cup of tea with some old guy she didn't recognize.

Buffy skidded to a halt as she took in the very domestic, very non-end of the world scene before her.

Clearly, she and Giles had different ideas about what constituted an emergency.

Her only consolation was that her sudden appearance made him bobble his cup in surprise, sending little splashes of tea everywhere. Even that little bit of instant karma was short-lived, however, for as her initial shock wore off, she began to notice a few things.

The most obvious was Giles himself. Not only was he still wearing the same clothes from the night before, but he also looked really, really tired; weary even, in a way that went beyond simple physical exhaustion. What really caught her attention, though, was the way he was looking at her, his expression a mixture of wonder and dread and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. He never even noticed the spilled tea.

Then there was Giles' guest, who, by contrast, was the picture of composure as he sipped his tea, looking every bit like the wise kindly grandfather everyone wished they had, from the snowy white beard and twinkling blue eyes, right down to the distinguished robes he was sporting. Even as Buffy's stare passed the boundaries of polite, he remained unruffled, simply meeting her gaze with a mild look of his own.

Buffy was immediately suspicious. It was the crack of dawn on a Saturday in May. His clothes were completely out of place. They did provide a pretty nifty way to hide something, though.

His reaction to her was off, too. Giles had practically jumped out of his seat at her dramatic entrance, but this guy hadn't batted an eyelash. Now he was trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible - which in her experience meant that he was a threat; or at least, he had the ability to be one.

Yep, though the situation didn't scream 'danger', it was far from okay. And it all centered around Mr. Calm, Cool and Unnervingly Collected.

Almost as if he could read her mind, the stranger's smile grew even blander, the twinkle in his eye brighter, as he put his cup down and slowly got to his feet.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Giles' charge, Miss Summers," he said. He inclined his head toward her in polite greeting. "A pleasure to meet you."

Buffy scowled, quickly positioning herself next to Giles so that she could intercept any potential attacks from across the table.

"Giles, what's going on?" she demanded. "Who is this?"

Giles was on his feet in a flash.

"Buffy, it's okay," he quickly reassured her. "This is Professor Albus Dumbledore, and he's here because, well, because… I don't know quite how to tell you this, but…that is to say..."
"You're a witch, Miss Summers."

Buffy bristled, her back immediately up at the guy's nerve. "Name calling is really not the way to start a conversation, Dumb A—"

"Buffy," Giles sharply interrupted.

She closed her mouth with an audible snap. Yes, she was wound a wee bit too tightly, and, no, her snarkiness was not going to help the situation. It didn't make his rebuke hurt any less.

It must have been written all over her face because Giles' expression instantly softened.
"Would you like some tea? No? Then why don't we all take a seat?" he suggested, sitting down even as he spoke in an obvious effort to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible.

Without any hesitation, Dumbledore followed suit, his robes slightly billowing with the movement.

After a long beat, Buffy did as well.

As soon as she was seated, Giles cleared his throat.

"Buffy, Professor Dumbledore here is a wizard, Headmaster at one of the most preeminent Wizarding schools in Europe, among other things. His reputation precedes him," he said, with a distinct note of respect in his voice. "He means that you're an actual witch."

Buffy couldn't help it; she burst out laughing, and it eased away some of the tension she had been feeling.

"Clearly, this is the beginning of a very funny joke," she said. When no one else cracked a smile, her smile faded a little. "Okay… well, then, there's obviously been some mix up, right?"

She looked expectantly at Giles, waiting for him to chime in and say that this was all a terrible mistake, followed by a very long-winded, very British explanation of exactly why the guy was wrong.

But it never happened. If anything, Giles looked... torn.

The last little bit of her smile evaporated.

"Giles!" she exclaimed. "Please tell me you don't believe him. Because I'm kind of thinking I would have noticed by now."

Though she was speaking to Giles, it was Dumbledore who replied, much to her irritation.

"You most certainly would have, Miss Summers, if it were an ability you possessed before last night," he said mildly.

Then he paused, letting that sentence hang in the air, maybe to give her time to catch his meaning.

It was unnecessary. Unfortunately, Buffy knew all too well what he was getting at.

As nonchalantly as she could, she shrugged. "Because I died," she replied, her voice only stumbling slightly over the last word. Then in a thinly disguised attempt to draw the conversation away from the topic at hand, she added, "You're not saying that's how witches get their magical powers, are you? Because that's really twisted, if it is."

If Dumbledore saw through her ruse, he didn't let on. He just shook his head.

"Most witches and wizards discover their powers at a young age. You, however, are in a unique situation," he said. "A slayer who is also a witch is quite rare. When it does happen, the girl is almost always unable to perform magic, as you could not. The prevailing theory is that the essence of the Slayer inhibits any magical abilities she possesses, which you yourself experienced. Your death, however, changed that."

Gotcha, Buffy thought to herself as she leaned forward on her elbows and smirked.

"Yeah, I'm really not seeing how. According to your own theory, slaying and witchyness can't coexist. And wouldn't you know? I'm still the Slayer."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair without a word, seemingly having no response to that.

Before she could gloat, however, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye; Giles, shifting in his seat, looking very uneasy all of a sudden. Then, in a gesture that never boded well, he took off his glasses, cleaning them methodically, before he put them back on and turned toward her, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Buffy, when I returned home last evening, there was a message from The Council, informing me that I should return to England at once as my duties as Watcher have concluded," he began. When Buffy started to protest, he held up his hand. "Because my charge had died and a new Slayer has been Called."

"But I'm still the Slayer," Buffy protested. "I killed the Master, remember? With Slayer strength and everything."

Again, though she directed the conversation to Giles, Dumbledore cut in.

She was really starting to resent the guy.

"Ah, but did you?" he asked. "At least entirely? Was there anything that seemed to happen on its own, as if you willed it so?"

Buffy started to shake her head, annoyed that her conversation with Giles had been interrupted. Dumbledore's question struck a chord, though, reminding her of a few weird things that had happened the night before, like the piece of wood that had jutted up at just the right angle at the exact moment she needed it; hell, even the way the entire Hellmouth had closed like a demonic jack in the box.

Judging by the way Dumbledore was watching at her, studying her, he knew. In fact, it almost seemed like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

It also felt strangely familiar.

With a frown of concentration, she stared back, trying to figure out why the sudden deja vu. Interestingly, she thought she saw Dumbledore's eyes widened almost imperceptibly at this, which of course only made her more determined.

"Buffy?"

Buffy gave a small jolt, the sound of Giles' voice effectively breaking her line of thought and bringing her back to the question she had left hanging.

In a move that was both defensive and defiant, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Dumbledore.

"It doesn't prove anything. We're on a Hellmouth. There could be a million reasons why things happened the way they did last night, none of them involving magic from me."

To her surprise, Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Perhaps not," he conceded. "But then, your use of magic is how I located you."

That managed to shock Buffy into silence, something that Dumbledore did not hesitate taking advantage of.

"If you would indulge me for a moment, I think we could settle the matter once and for all," he said. As he spoke, he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled something out, which he then extended to her. "Please, if you would."

Buffy blinked, staring at the object in his hand. It was a stick; a stake, she thought at first. Except it was too slender and smooth, as if someone had polished and stained it a dark mahogany color...

"Is that a— a— wand?" she asked, feeling ridiculous just saying it aloud. At Dumbledore's nod, she whipped around in her seat toward Giles. "They have wands? Did we know this?"

Giles gave her a slightly exasperated look, which she appreciated, strangely enough; the familiarity of the gesture was almost soothing, a balm to her rapidly fraying nerves.

"Yes, we did, though perhaps our discussion got lost in the aftermath of the situation with Catherine Madison?" he said, somewhat pointedly. Then he sighed and looked at her beseechingly. "Please, Buffy. Take the wand. It won't harm you, I promise."

Buffy bit her lip. Part of her wanted to refuse to pick it up, but she knew it would just be out of sheer petulance.

No, she decided. It would be better to get it over with so they could get Dumbledore out of their hair and get back to the whole 'not the Slayer' bit.

With that, she took a deep breath and took the wand in her hand.

She was immediately struck by how flimsy it felt, like a twig that could be snapped oh so easily. It also felt like nothing more than a piece of wood. She was picking up absolutely nothing by way of magical vibes.

Triumphantly, she started to hand the wand back to Dumbledore, but he shook his head.
"Now give it a little wave," he said encouragingly.

Buffy barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Still, she did as she was asked, giving the wand an impatient swipe through the air before handing it back.

That was the plan anyway. The only problem was, about halfway through her arc, a warm tingling sensation shot down her arm to her fingertips, seemingly into the wand itself, which let out a small spurt of golden sparks.

They stopped almost as quickly as they had started, but the damage was done. Buffy knew it - even if she couldn't admit it quite yet.

"That could've been you," she said feebly, practically throwing the wand back at Dumbledore. "A trick."

"It could," he said gravely. "But is that what you believe?"

Buffy didn't answer; while she refused to admit that he was right, she couldn't lie, either. She had felt something inside her react to that wand, tugging at her very being. Instead, she leaned on the table, her head in her hands as she tried to wrap her mind around everything.

A whole minute passed before she could bring herself to speak, and even then, she couldn't bring herself to look up at them.

"I just don't understand. None of it makes any sense. You say I'm not the Slayer, but it sure feels like it. What does the Council have to say about that?"

"How do you think they learned of your death?" Giles replied. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry, Buffy, but another girl has been Called. They- they've moved on."

Buffy looked up with a sharp intake of breath at his blunt words, surprised by how much they hurt, particularly since she knew she should have been happy; ecstatic even. It was just that she had finally come to terms with being the Slayer the night before. She had died for it. To have it taken away now seemed wrong. Worse than that; cruel.

It left her powerless over her own destiny once again. It also made no sense whatsoever.

Almost overwhelmed by the rush of emotion she felt, she opened her mouth. To rage, to shout, she didn't know. She never got the chance to find out, as the look in Giles' eye stopped her cold.

It was the same look he gave her whenever Snyder or a student walked in on them mid-slayer chat. There was more to the story than met the eye, something he didn't want to say in front of present company.

Swallowing her hurt, she forced herself to focus on why Dumbledore was there.

"I still don't quite understand how I can be a witch. Even if I'm not the Slayer, I'm still a Slayer."

A silent exchange occurred between the two men, one that set Buffy's teeth on edge, before Giles spoke.

"The truth of the matter is that we simply don't know. This is rather unprecedented. The only thing that seems clear is that the Slayer line has moved on to another, unlocking your magical potential in the process," he said. Then he smiled, pride shining in his eyes. "As always, you are proving to be the exception to the rule."

Buffy wanted to return the smile, but there was still too much to process. She was a little surprised by how calm and accepting Giles was about it all, considering he really hadn't had much more time than she had to absorb everything. Yet he and Dumbledore already had it all figured out, silent communications at all.

Suddenly, a suspicion bloomed in her mind. She knew she should've kept it to herself; she knew how badly Giles felt when she had found out that he had kept the prophecy from her. Before she could stop herself, however, she turned toward him.

"Did you know? About me, I mean, before all this?"

To her immense relief, Giles looked genuinely shocked. "What? Good Lord, Buffy, of course I didn't. How could you—" He stopped short when he saw the look on her face, a mixture of hurt and guilt flashing across his own. After taking a deep breath, he looked her straight in the eye. "I only found out myself when Professor Dumbledore contacted me earlier in the evening."

Buffy tersely nodded. Apologies would have to come later. She turned her attention toward Dumbledore. "And you knew because I supposedly did some kind of magic? Is that how it works?"

"For children not born into Wizarding families, yes."

Buffy scrunched her brow in confusion. "Are you saying magic is hereditary? Or not, since kids don't have to have magical parents?"

Dumbledore regarded her for a moment, a look of approval in his eye. "That is an interesting question, one we have been struggling over for centuries. Some believe that those witches and wizards without any obvious magical ancestry are a chance occurrence. Other are of an opinion even less flattering," he said. "My own personal theory, which I must admit is not fondly embraced, is that someone from a seemingly non-magical family can in fact trace their lineage to at least one magical ancestor, perhaps one who was unable to perform magic and thus decided to live in the Muggle – non-magical – world."

"And so you think that's what happened to me?" Buffy asked, even as she began running through her family tree, trying to figure out who the relative could have been.

She had only gotten to Great Grandma Millie – who from what she heard, was a 'free spirit' for her time – when she noticed that Dumbledore was giving her a strange look. In fact, he looked slightly uncomfortable, and it actually was a little unnerving.

"Not quite," he said quietly. Then he shook his head. "You shouldn't be learning about such a delicate issue in this manner. Unfortunately, circumstances being what they are, I have no choice… your father was a wizard."

Buffy snorted. "My dad? I don't think so."

Dumbledore gave her a sad smile. "But he was. In fact, Regulus Black was one of my students."

Giles let out a small gasp, and at first, Buffy didn't know why. When it sunk in a moment later, she felt herself the heat rise to her face.

"No, there's been a mistake."

"There hasn't been. It was how I found you, and it is why I am here instead of a representative from the American Ministry," he said, directing this last bit at Giles. "It had come to my attention that Regulus might have fathered a child. Your use of magic last night simply allowed me to locate you. Though I must admit, I myself wasn't absolutely certain until you held this."

He held up the wand.

"Of course," Giles breathed.

Buffy frowned, completely confused. "Huh? What am I missing here?"

"Choosing a wand is not as simple as picking one that strikes your fancy. As Mr. Ollivander is fond of saying, the wand chooses the wizard. And once that connection is made, very little can sever it. The wand will not work as well for any other. It will, however, recognize familial relations. That is, wands can be handed down in a family while retaining full functionality," Dumbledore explained. He gestured toward the wand again. "This belongs to someone closely related to Regulus. As you saw, it reacted to you because it recognized who you are, or more precisely, who your father was."

Buffy knew next to nothing about wizards and witches, let alone their wands, so she obviously had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth. Giles' reaction, however, spoke volumes. Still, she wasn't going to believe anything until she got some answers, straight from the source.

"I need to talk to my mom," she said, abruptly jumping to her feet.

Dumbledore nodded and rose to his feet. "Of course. As I said, it was not my place to tell you of such news, and for that I apologize. There are several matters I must attend to as well, such as returning this wand to its proper owner, along with the explanation I had promised when I first asked to borrow it. However, there are still some matters I would like to discuss with you. Perhaps I could come back later?"

Buffy really didn't want to hear anything else he had to say. He'd say enough to last a lifetime.

"What else is there to talk about?" she asked, not caring how rude she sounded.

Dumbledore wasn't fazed.

"It's important that you learn how to control your abilities, Miss Summers. Otherwise, you could put yourself and others in danger. There is an academy in Salem, Massachusetts for young witches and wizards here in America, but because of your situation, I would like to suggest that you come to England, at least for a brief spell," he said.

Both Buffy and Giles immediately reacted to this.

"Now, wait just a minute!"

"Why? To meet some guy who got my mom pregnant? Because he cared so much he couldn't tell me the news himself?"

Dumbledore held up his hand. "I'm afraid the situation is rather complicated, but I really do believe it's best if you came to England," he said. Then a shadow crossed his face. "As for your father… I don't believe he ever knew about you, for he died in 1979."

Buffy dropped back into her chair with a dull thud. Logically, she knew she shouldn't care. So what if she had gained and lost a father in a measly two minutes? She didn't even know the guy, and he either didn't know or care about her. And yet she felt as if she had been dealt a physical blow, the latest to her already battered emotional state.

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore apologized. "There will be time enough to discuss this tonight. Thank you, Mr. Giles, for your time and hospitality. I'm particularly appreciative for your discretion in this matter. I know wizards and watchers have not always seen eye to eye."
Giles nodded. "It's Buffy's well-being that's most important here."

A moment of understanding seemed to pass between the two men. Then Dumbledore walked to the center of the living room and pulled out a wand, one different from the one he had Buffy hold earlier.

"Until this evening, then," he said, dipping his head in farewell.

And with that, he disappeared without so much as a *poof*.

Buffy's eyes widened as she stared at the spot he had just been in. With that obvious display for magic, the reality of the situation hit home. Without even fully realizing what she was doing, she pulled her feet up onto the seat of the chair curled up into a ball, her forehead resting on her knees.

A moment later, she felt Giles put a hand on her shoulder.

She couldn't help it; she instantly recoiled, not wanting to be touched.

If Giles was hurt, he didn't let on. He simply pulled his own chair over next to her and sat down.

"Buffy, I promise, no matter what happens, we will get through this," he said. "If that means going to Salem, or to London, or staying right here and telling the Council and the Ministry to go to hang, then so be it. But we will get through this. Together."

Buffy looked up at him, both surprised and touched by his declaration. "You would do that?" she asked, hating the way her voice broke.

"Of course I would, dear girl," he replied.

It was too much. Fighting the Master, dying, her father. She had been on a roller coaster of emotions for over 24 hours now, and it was just too much. She finally broke down, and her body was quickly wracked with heaving sobs.

Giles put his arm around her again; this time she didn't push him away. She just leaned on his shoulder and cried.