Charmed: Another Halliwell

by Brenna's Urbangirl Projects

Summary: Buffy Summers is the daughter of Joyce and Hank Summers. Joyce was born Patience Joyce Halliwell she was Prue, Piper and Phoebe's aunt. When Joyce dies Buffy is left in the care of her cousins. Pairings: Prue, Piper, and Phoebe (and later Paige) canon pairings. Buffy/Dawn (Yes, Forbidden Sibling Love). A/U Set during and after Charmed Season 1 and Buffy season 1.

62. Chapter 62: Helpless

Q/A - Megagalvatron - 1) Hope's relationship to Faith will be revealed in chapter 65. 2) Who Hope is will be revealed in Chapter 72. She is a canon character just not by the name of Hope. She is not the Hope from the episode dealing with Pandora's Box. 3) Faith will turn evil briefly. Hope is tied into Faith's redemption. 4) Yes both the Mayor and Glory will be seen. 5) X-Mas episode was skipped. 6) Halliwells won't invite Faith to live with them. Where would she sleep? After Faith's redemption it's likely Hope will invite Faith to live with her.

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Chapter 62: Helpless

January 18, 1999 – Monday

Angel's Mansion

Buffy and Angel clashed with unyielding intensity in the grand room of the art deco mansion. The space, adorned with silent, graceful angles, seemed to bear witness to their fierce struggle. The scent of fresh baguettes and rich French cheeses wafted through the air, mingling with the flickering glow of numerous vanilla-scented candles that adorned the room like stars in the night sky.

Buffy, her body taut and glistening with sweat, deftly evaded Angel's renewed assault. Each move, each strike was calculated, driven by the adrenaline coursing through their veins. This was no picnic on a sun-drenched hillside, reminiscing about faded romance. This was their unique way of connecting, of releasing their pent-up emotions and desires.

Grabbing Angel's shoulders with a fierce grip, Buffy exerted all her strength, but he broke free, attempting to lift her over his head. With a determined grace, she managed to elude his grasp, swiftly retreating like a skilled fighter. Sensing an opening, she lunged forward, landing a solid sidekick to Angel's hip. He grunted in response, momentarily staggered, yet he swiftly caught her leg and expertly flipped her to the ground.

Buffy landed with remarkable agility, swiftly regaining her footing. The room pulsated with their concentrated energy, their every move purposeful and precise. Words were unnecessary; their bodies communicated a shared understanding, an unspoken language born from their history and connection.

Their battle unfolded in silence, the play of their shadows casting mesmerizing patterns upon the walls and ceiling. In this moment, Buffy comprehended the allure that drove Faith's hunger for combat. The raw power, the thrill of the fight—it ignited something within her, a primal energy that surged through her veins.

For Buffy, this was not a game of playful reminiscence. It was an embodiment of their complex relationship, a physical expression of their bond. The battle between them was a unique dance, an intimate connection that allowed them to fully unleash their strength, knowing that they were equals in this arena.

In the midst of the fierce clash, there was an unspoken understanding that they held back with others. Buffy fought her cousins with a gentler touch, mindful of their vulnerability. But with Angel, there were no holds barred, no restraints. Their struggle was a testament to the depths of their connection, the unwavering passion that fueled their desire.

As their bodies continued to move in perfect synchrony, the room transformed into a sanctuary of their shared history, the battle a testament to the unbreakable bond between them.

In a lightning-fast move, Buffy seized the opportunity, swiftly bringing her knees up and flipping Angel over her, sending him crashing onto his back. With an agile spring, she regained her footing, her senses attuned to every movement. Before Angel could fully recover, he lunged at her once again, their bodies entangled in a relentless struggle.

They grappled with one another, the force of their clash reverberating through the room. With a swift and precise sweep of her leg, Buffy swept Angel's legs out from under him, causing him to crash onto the floor with a resounding thud. This time, the impact was harder, momentarily stunning him. Sensing victory, Buffy seized a nearby baguette, her intentions clear as she knelt on Angel's chest, preparing to deliver the decisive blow.

"Gotcha!" Buffy exclaimed triumphantly, her victory evident in her voice.

"Right in the heart," Angel concurred, a genuine smile gracing his lips. He embraced her ferocity, appreciating her ability to fully embrace her formidable self, both in triumph and defeat.

With a jaunty toss of the bread, Buffy questioned, "Satisfied?" Her playful tone echoed through the room, momentarily lifting the tension that had surrounded them.

But then their eyes locked, and the mirth disappeared from Angel's gaze. In that instant, they were transported elsewhere, their connection deepening, their souls intertwining. It was a place of profound understanding, where they could perceive each other's thoughts and emotions with an uncanny clarity.

"I'm not sure that's the word," Angel's voice dropped to a low whisper, carrying a mixture of longing and desire. The intensity of his words resonated within Buffy, pulsating through her bloodstream and reverberating in the rhythm of her racing heart.

Their bodies tensed, mirroring the electric charge that passed between them. Like two warriors poised on the edge of a precipice, they stood at the precipice of something dangerous and alluring.

Buffy's words tumbled out hastily, attempting to clarify her earlier statement. "Oh, I didn't mean satisfied like—" she began, only to be interrupted by Angel's quick response, "No, I wasn't trying to."

"Because we're not having satisfaction, in the personal sense," Buffy asserted, her tone resolute.

"Of course," Angel replied, but his words carried a hint of pretense, mirroring her own. Deep down, they both knew the truth—they desired each other intensely, struggling to maintain any semblance of distance between them.

With a troubled longing in her eyes, Buffy recognized the need to leave. "I should go. Giles is—" she started, her voice trailing off.

"Waiting for you. I know," Angel interjected, his expression gently sad, hinting at the depth of his loneliness without her. "Am I going to see you this week? You probably have plans."

"Birthday, right," Buffy filled in, a touch of hesitation in her voice. "Actually, yeah, I do have a thing."

"A thing? A date?" Angel's forehead furrowed with dismay, his concern evident, and in that moment, she cherished him even more.

She smiled ruefully, a playful glint in her eyes. "Nice attempt at casual. Actually, I do have a date. Older man. Very handsome. Likes it when I call him 'Daddy'," she teased, allowing a hint of seductive allure to color her words.

Angel's grin widened, a flicker of amusement crossing his features as he comprehended the intricate dynamics of Buffy's father figures. "Your father," he concluded, his tone lightening. Then, the crease returned to his forehead, his concern resurfacing. "It is your father, right? And which one?" he asked.

Buffy's smile grew, a sense of nostalgia washing over her. Lately, she had been missing her step-father more than usual, knowing that she would be seeing him on her special day. "Hank..." she informed him, and Angel nodded in understanding.

He was well aware of Buffy's unique family dynamics—the fact that her adopted fathers was her cousin's biological father, who had embraced her as his own upon their first meeting, her step-father was her mother's ex-husband. He also knew about Leo being her biological father.

"He's taking me to the ice-show," Buffy continued, her voice laced with anticipation. "It's great fun. And I could definitely use a little more fun," she added with a knowing look, conveying the importance of balance in her life as the Charmed Slayer. The unspoken message was clear: All work and no play makes Buffy a sloppy Charmed Slayer.

Gateway High School

Buffy dutifully made her way to the library, where Giles awaited her with an array of crystals from the San Francisco Natural History Museum neatly arranged in a big box. Most of the contents of the box were scattered across the table, a collection of crystals that Buffy struggled to identify, longing for an escape from the task at hand.

Giles, with his usual nagging tone, urged Buffy to focus on the crystals rather than daydreaming about ice shows or any form of amusement. The crystals, a buffet of vibrant colors, lay before her, and she wished she had somewhere else to be.

"And this one?" Giles prodded, holding a piece of lavender crystal in front of her.

"Amethyst," Buffy replied, her response tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

Giles raised an eyebrow. "Used for?"

"Breath mint?" Buffy offered with a playful smirk.

Giles huffed in his characteristic British manner. "For charm bags, money spells, and cleansing one's aura," he explained.

Buffy couldn't resist her playful nature. "Okay, so how do you know when your aura's dirty? Does someone come by with a finger and write 'wash me' on it?"

Giles's patience wore thin. "Buffy, I understand your dislike for studying vibratory stones, but it's a crucial part of your training, and I would appreciate your undivided attention."

"Sorry," she conceded, addressing Giles with a more serious tone. "It's just that with Faith on one of her unannounced walkabouts, someone should be out patrolling."

"Faith has shown little interest in proper training, so I rely on you to maintain your own," Giles replied.

"I hate being the 'good' one," Buffy grumbled, picking up an intriguing crystal and playing with it absentmindedly.

Giles noticed her restlessness. "And as for patrolling, you will be out there soon enough. Why the anxiousness?"

Buffy realized the crystal she was holding had a masculine appearance and quickly set it back down. "Let's just say I have a lot of energy to burn off."

"In due time. For now, if it's not completely beyond your capabilities, try to concentrate," Giles advised.

Buffy let the snide remark slide, having heard similar comments from Giles before. She wished she could escape to a peaceful cornfield, away from her current responsibilities.

Giles placed a large clear crystal in front of her, and Buffy let out a heavy sigh, lazily eyeing the crystal's presence.

Playground

The chilly night breeze swept through the deserted playground, causing the swings to sway back and forth, emitting creaks akin to rusty wind chimes. The whirligig spun lazily, casting eerie shadows in the dim moonlight. And amidst this haunting backdrop, Buffy was engaged in an intense battle with a vampire.

With a powerful body slam, she sent the vampire hurtling down the slide, gravity propelling him with unnatural speed. Buffy followed suit, delivering a barrage of swift kicks and punches, each strike precise and forceful.

She couldn't help but taunt her opponent, a smirk forming on her lips. " Wow, that was really funny looking. Could you do that again?" she jeered, her confidence evident.

The vampire growled in fury. "I'll kill you for that!" he snarled, his eyes filled with malice.

Buffy brushed off his threat with a dismissive wave. "For that? What were you trying to kill me for before?" With a graceful roundhouse kick, she struck his face, causing him to stumble and crash onto the nearby whirligig. Clearly, he didn't appreciate the unexpected landing.

Swiftly, Buffy retrieved a stake, preparing for the final act of this macabre dance. She aimed to end the vampire's existence once and for all.

"Okay, here's the deal," she began, but before she could finish her sentence, the world spun around her in a dizzying blur. The whirligig seemed to accelerate, disorienting her senses. Her focus shattered, leaving her vulnerable. The vampire seized the opportunity, lunging at her with predatory intent.

He swiftly overpowered her, pinning her to the ground. Though she still held the stake, he twisted her wrist, causing the weapon to point menacingly at her own chest. The ease with which he executed the move shocked Buffy, leaving her powerless to stop him as he pressed the stake against her.

Pain surged through her body, the reality of the situation sinking in. Fear gripped her as he leaned in close, his voice a chilling whisper. "Let me know if I'm not doing this right."

Dread consumed her thoughts. 'Oh, my God, I'm going to die,' she thought, her panic temporarily overshadowing her power to flame. 'This one stupid vampire is going to pierce me through the heart with my own stake.'

But her survival instinct kicked in, fueled by her deep love for her friends and family. Summoning all her strength, she headbutted the vampire with all her might, causing him to roll off her. Blood trickled down his forehead, and the sight of it grounded her, reigniting her resolve.

Pushing herself up, a fireball formed in her hand, the flames dancing with her determination. The vampire, realizing her intent, lunged at her, their movements resembling a frenzied scramble for a piece of candy after breaking a piñata at a birthday party.

With a swift and accurate throw, Buffy launched the fiery ball toward the vampire, sealing his fate in a cloud of ash. His remains scattered around her, leaving her coated in a fine layer of dust, a testament to her triumph over the forces of darkness.

As she sat up, she brushed off the residue, feeling a lingering sense of dizziness. The close call with death had left her shaken, but she tried to gather herself, focusing on the fact that she had emerged victorious.

She flexed her fingers and tested the strength of her arms, reassuring herself of her physical well-being. Rising to her feet, she surveyed the area, ensuring there were no other threats lurking in the shadows. Her attention then turned to Phoebe, who had been knocked unconscious during the fierce battle. Buffy reached out a helping hand, assisting Phoebe in getting back on her feet.

Phoebe groaned, expressing her dissatisfaction with her own performance. "Dang, I really need to work on my fighting skills," she lamented, leaning on Buffy for support. "When a vampire can knock out a Charmed One..."

Buffy offered a sympathetic smile, understanding Phoebe's frustration. "Well, that was better than me, Pheebs. I almost died again," she admitted, a shiver coursing through her despite the absence of a breeze. They began their journey back home, their steps filled with a mix of weariness and relief. "From one dumb vamp who almost turned my own stake against me."

Phoebe's eyes widened in shock and concern as she processed the gravity of Buffy's words. The weight of the situation settled heavily upon her. "He almost killed you with your own stake?" she said, her voice laced with disbelief and horror.

Buffy nodded, her expression a mix of lingering fear and resilience. "Yeah, he had me pinned down, twisting my wrist until the stake was pointed right at my chest," she explained, recounting the terrifying encounter. The memory of that moment still sent shivers down her spine.

Phoebe's hand instinctively reached out to grasp Buffy's arm, offering comfort and support. "Oh my God, Buffy," she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and empathy. The realization of how close Buffy had come to losing her life sent a chill through Phoebe's veins.

Halliwell Manor

Phoebe, still shaken by the events at the playground, couldn't keep the weight of the encounter to herself any longer. She needed to share the harrowing experience with her sisters. As they gathered in the living room, Phoebe took a deep breath and composed herself before speaking.

"Guys, you won't believe what happened tonight," Phoebe began, her voice tinged with a mix of urgency and concern. "Buffy had a close call with a vampire. He actually tried to kill her using her own stake."

Prue's eyes widened, her expression filled with disbelief and worry. "What? How did that happen?" she exclaimed, her concern for her cousin palpable.

"I was knocked unconscious so I only have Buffy's word for this," Phoebe continued, her voice steady but filled with a lingering sense of unease. "But she was fighting the vampire, and she had the upper hand, but then this vampire managed to overpower her. He twisted her wrist, forcing the stake towards her own chest. It was a really dangerous situation."

Piper's brows furrowed as she listened intently, her protective instincts kicking into high gear. "Is Buffy okay?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of concern and determination.

Phoebe nodded, her eyes conveying both relief and lingering worry. "Physically, yeah, she fought back, headbutted him, and managed to free herself," she explained, her admiration for Buffy's strength evident in her words. "But it was a really close call. I've never seen her in such a dangerous situation before."

Prue crossed her arms, a determined expression settling on her face. "What do you mean, physically?" she asked, her voice firm.

"Well we all know how she's taken her other deaths," Phoebe reminded her sisters with sorrow. "She's putting on a brave front, but underneath I bet you that she she's frightened."

"You're right, Phoebe," Prue acknowledged, her voice filled with empathy. "Buffy has faced death multiple times, and each time it has left scars. She may be putting on a brave front, but deep down, she must be terrified. Have you mentioned this to Leo?"

"Have I mentioned that he almost lost his daughter tonight?" Phoebe asked with a raised eyebrow. "No. I didn't want to worry him."

Prue's brows furrowed as she absorbed Phoebe's words, understanding the weight of her sister's decision. "You're right, Phoebe," she conceded, her voice tinged with a mix of concern and guilt.

Piper's expression mirrored Prue's concern. "You were trying to protect Leo, but he deserves to know the truth," she admitted, her voice filled with remorse. "He's always been there for us, and we shouldn't keep him in the dark about Buffy's near-death experience."

Phoebe's eyes softened as she placed a comforting hand on her sisters' arms. "Alright," she agreed softly.

January 19, 1999 – Tuesday

Halliwell Manor

Leo materialized in front of Prue, Piper, and Phoebe in the conservatory, his eyes filled with concern as he took in their serious expressions. "What is it?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of worry.

Prue took a deep breath, her gaze meeting Leo's. "Leo, we need to talk to you about something important," she began, her tone steady but tinged with a touch of sadness.

Piper stepped forward, her hand reaching out to grasp Leo's reassuringly. "Last night, Buffy had a close call," she revealed, her voice filled with a mix of concern and regret. "She and Phoebe were fighting a vampire. Phoebe was knocked unconscious leaving Buffy to fight the vampire alone. He managed to overpower her. He almost staked her with her own stake."

Phoebe, standing beside her sisters, added her voice to the conversation. "Buffy fought back and managed to escape, but it was a terrifying experience for her," she explained, her eyes filled with empathy. "I wanted to protect you from this news, but I realize now that you deserve to know."

Leo's expression shifted from worry to a mixture of shock and concern. "Buffy... she's alright now, isn't she?" he asked, his voice betraying his worry for his daughter.

Prue nodded, her voice gentle. The room seemed to fill with a sense of tenderness as her words reached Leo's ears. "Physically, she's fine," she reassured him, her words carrying a soothing tone. The room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. "But you know emotionally is another matter given the number of deaths she's experienced," she added, her voice reflecting the weight of their shared concern.

Leo's gaze flickered with a mix of relief and worry as he focused on the present, his mind reluctantly releasing the weight of past sorrows. The memories of Buffy's previous encounters with death, particularly her devastating battle with the Master, lingered in his thoughts like a specter. He could almost feel the suffocating grip of grief that had enveloped his daughter, threatening to consume her spirit.

The conservatory, usually filled with the vibrant energy of blooming plants, now seemed hushed and still, as if in respectful acknowledgement of the pain they had all endured. The air felt heavy with unspoken emotions, an unbreakable bond weaving its way through the silent space.

Leo's concern deepened as he sought information about Buffy's whereabouts. His voice held a tinge of urgency as he inquired, "Where is she?" The weight of parental instinct settled upon him, his worry etched into the lines on his face.

Piper, standing beside Leo, took a calming breath before answering. "She's at school," she responded, her voice tinged with both reassurance and concern. "But she hasn't opened up to us about what happened. We only know because of Phoebe."

Leo's voice carried a note of concern as he addressed the sisters. "Please, keep me informed when she arrives home," he requested, his tone filled with a mixture of fatherly worry and a deep desire to offer his support.

Prue nodded, her expression reflecting a shared understanding. "Of course, Leo," she assured him, her voice conveying her commitment to keeping a watchful eye over Buffy's well-being. "We'll make sure she's not alone and that she feels supported."

Piper, standing by Prue's side, added her agreement. "You can count on us to look after her," she affirmed, her voice laced with determination and affection.

Phoebe, sensing the weight of Leo's concern, offered him a reassuring smile. "We'll be there for her, Leo," she assured him, her words infused with unwavering support. "You can trust us to take care of our sister."

Gateway High School

Buffy called out for Giles, and realized he hadn't come in yet. After making sure the 'Closed' sign was still placed outside the library's double doors, she rummaged around in the book vault, which doubled as the weapons storage area. There was a bull's-eye, the same one Giles had used when she had arrived in town and they had started training together.

She pinned the large bull's-eye on the wall and gathered up an armful of throwing knives. After a couple of dozen tosses, she had not hit the yellow circle once. Not once. And a number of the knives hadn't been thrown hard enough to pierce the target. They lay on the floor like little silver dead fish.

Buffy's frustration grew as she watched the knives scatter aimlessly, missing the target entirely. The once confident Charmed Slayer now questioned her abilities, feeling a sense of defeat creeping in. She gazed at the bull's-eye, the symbol of her training with Giles, and her heart sank at the lack of precision she displayed.

Just as her distress reached its peak, Giles appeared in the doorway, his arrival a welcome sight. "Bit early in the day," he said.

Buffy immediately turned to him, her anxiety evident in her voice. "Giles, something's wrong," she confessed, her voice filled with urgency.

"Wrong?" Giles echoed. His eyes followed her gaze, taking in the scene of knives scattered haphazardly around the room. The gravity of the situation dawned on him, and he realized the depth of Buffy's struggle. "Ah," he responded, a mix of concern and understanding in his tone. "Perhaps you shouldn't..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Buffy threw another knife, missing the target spectacularly once again.

"—do that anymore," he concluded.

Frustration and disappointment washed over Buffy, leaving her even more unsettled. "On top of that, I got a bad case of the dizzies last night and almost let a vamp stake me," she told him. "With my own stake! I am way off my game, my game's left the country, it's in Cuernavaca!" she lamented, her voice tinged with frustration. "Giles, what's going on here?"

Giles tried to offer a rational explanation, attempting to ease her worries. "Well... probably you've got a flu bug or something," he reasoned, though his reassurances fell short in Buffy's eyes.

Buffy shook her head vehemently, her concern mounting. "No, I can't get sick," she insisted, the weight of her responsibility evident in her words. "My step-father, Hank, is coming up for my birthday tradition, the ice show. Canceling on him would devastate him."

Giles's demeanor softened, the concern in his eyes replacing his usual stoicism. "Perhaps you should take it easy for the next forty-eight hours," he suggested, his voice laced with genuine care. "Forego any more patrolling until you're feeling yourself again."

Buffy recoiled at the suggestion, her pride refusing to admit defeat. "No," she retorted, determination flashing in her eyes. "No, I think I need to spend a little more time training." She hurled another knife, the impact shattering the glass special collections case. "I'm gone."

"Thank you," Giles sang out, and she beat a hasty retreat.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy's excitement for the upcoming ice show helped to momentarily push aside her worries. As lunchtime arrived, she met up with Xander, Willow, and Oz, finding solace in the company of her closest friends. They gathered together, the atmosphere relaxed and comfortable, embracing their senior year.

Buffy eagerly shared the details of her ice show plans, her enthusiasm shining through her words. Xander couldn't help but wear an amused expression as he listened. "An ice show?" he echoed, his head cocked to the side and his eyebrow arched. "A show performed on ice. And how old are we, again?"

Willow interjected with her own ice show memory, her voice filled with nostalgia. "I saw Snoopy on Ice once when I was little," she chimed in. "My dad took me backstage," she added, her tone fond, before her expression darkened with a hint of embarrassment. "And I got scared and threw up on Woodstock."

Buffy felt the need to defend her choice, despite their teasing. "I know you all think it's just a big, dumb, girly thing," she protested, her voice filled with a mix of defensiveness and affection. "But it's not. Some of the skaters are Olympic medal winners, and Hank buys me cotton candy, a souvenir program with pictures every year, and... okay," she conceded, a smile tugging at her lips, "it is a big, dumb, girly thing, but I love it."

Oz chimed in, offering his perspective on ice. "Not so girly," he assured her with a calm and collected tone. "Ice is cool. It's water, but it's not."

Willow beamed at Oz, adoringly captivated by his simple yet profound observation. Then, turning her attention back to Buffy, she spoke with genuine warmth. "I think it's sweet that you and your step-dad have a tradition, especially now that he's not around so much," she said softly. Lowering her voice conspiratorially, she offered a practical piece of advice. "Ixnay on the caramel corn if you're going backstage."

Xander, never one to miss an opportunity for celebration, interjected, "Okay, but we're still talking party, right? I mean, some of us relish celebrating the birth of the Buff."

Buffy hesitated, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe it's time to call a moratorium on parties in my honor," she contemplated. "They tend to go badly. Monsters crash, people die." The memory of the surprise party the gang had thrown for her the previous year at the Bronze lingered in her mind.

Willow, however, seized on the significance of turning eighteen, her voice filled with excitement. "Eighteen is a big one, Buffy," she reminded her friend. "You can vote now. You can be drafted." A spark of inspiration lit up her eyes. "You can vote not to be drafted."

Buffy maintained her stance, her conviction unwavering. "I think I'll choose to celebrate this one with quiet reflection," she reiterated, her tone filled with a hint of solemnity.

Xander, however, was not one to easily give up. He leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Where's it written that quiet reflection can't be combined with cake and funny hats?" he insisted, his words laced with playful determination. His attempt to inject a sense of lightheartedness into the conversation was evident.

Halliwell Manor

The savory aroma of Piper's mouthwatering spaghetti sauce filled the air, enveloping Buffy in a comforting embrace as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The familiar warmth of home embraced her, momentarily easing the disappointment she carried within.

"Piper?" Buffy called out, her voice carrying a tinge of anticipation.

Piper's voice echoed from the kitchen, slightly tinged with unease. "Buffy? Is that you?"

Buffy made her way into the kitchen, offering a quick smile to Piper before her eyes landed on the grand display of flowers and Mylar balloons. Her face lit up with delight. "Ooh, a present!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with joy.

Piper's discomfort became apparent, and she hesitated before speaking. "They're not..." She paused, searching for the right words. "They're from Uncle Hank."

As Buffy's gaze shifted to the accompanying envelope, the realization hit her with a dull thud. The flowers and balloons were meant to be a consolation prize, a gesture to make up for the absence of her step-father. Piper's explanation only added to the sinking feeling in her heart. She could sense her disappointment, mingled with a hint of self-admonishment for allowing herself to feel this way.

Buffy gently plucked the envelope and the ice show tickets from the arrangement, her fingers tracing over them. The weight of her emotions settled upon her, like a heavy burden dragging her down into the depths of cold mud. She silently chastised herself for feeling so let down, reminding herself that disappointment was a part of life and that she should approach it with maturity.

"If you want, Leo or Dad could take you, or maybe Prue, Phoebe, or I could, assuming you want one of us to go with you…" Piper suggested, her voice tinged with concern.

Unbeknownst to Piper, Buffy crumpled the note in her hand, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and disappointment. She couldn't quite explain why she felt this way, but the emotions weighed heavily on her. The last thing she wanted was to break down and cry in front of Piper, so she quickly composed herself.

"No," Buffy responded firmly, her voice steady. She pushed aside the crumpled note, determined to move past the letdown. "That's not necessary. I was actually thinking earlier how nice it might be to have a quiet birthday."

Piper's face brightened with hope. "Well, we're still on, aren't we?" she asked eagerly. "A little birthday shopping?"

Buffy managed a smile, grateful for Piper's understanding and support. "Sure," she agreed, her voice carrying a hint of excitement. She turned and walked out of the kitchen, ready to embrace the day with a positive outlook.

Piper let out a sigh, her thoughts lingering on both Buffy's recent disappointments and the previous night's near-death experience. "Poor Buffy," she murmured, her heart going out to Buffy. "If it's not one thing it's another. Leo!"

Leo appeared beside her in blue and white orbing lights. "Piper?" he said.

Piper walked over to the flowers and picked up the tickets. She handed them to her fiancé. "Buffy's home. And your daughter's step-father cancelled on her. Now she's like she is just going to spend her birthday at home."

Leo closed his eyes in worry. "On the tickets, I will see what I can do," he offered. "But you know them."

"I know," Piper answered. "If something happens and you can't. I can call dad and see if he can," she offered. "But between her near death and now this…" she trailed off, leaving her words unfinished.

Piper's words hung in the air, their weight palpable as she trailed off, her concern evident in her voice. Leo absorbed her words, understanding the gravity of the situation. He nodded in acknowledgement, a mix of determination and worry etched on his face, before leaving the kitchen to find Buffy.

Leo made his way through the house, his footsteps echoing in the corridors until he reached the attic. There, he found Buffy sitting amongst her belongings, her Book of Shadows in her hands. Concern etched his features as he approached her. "Buffy, can we talk?" he asked gently, his eyes filled with empathy.

Buffy looked up, meeting her father's gaze, and set her Book of Shadows aside. She nodded, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in her expression. "Sure," she responded, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. She was unsure of what he wanted to discuss, but she was open to the conversation.

Leo took a deep breath, his eyes conveying both love and concern. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine care and a desire to understand what his daughter was going through. He wanted to offer her support and reassurance in any way he could.

"About?" Buffy questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Leo's eyes softened as he met Buffy's gaze, his concern mingling with an unwavering love for his daughter. He took a moment to choose his words carefully, wanting to provide a safe space for her to open up. "About what happened last night," he clarified, his voice gentle yet filled with an underlying urgency.

Buffy's eyebrows furrowed as she searched her father's face, trying to gauge his intentions. She took a deep breath, contemplating whether to share her vulnerable experiences with him. Finally, she nodded, a mixture of apprehension and trust in her eyes. "Okay," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "I had a close call with a vampire. He almost staked me with my own stake."

Leo's voice carried a deep understanding as he acknowledged the impact of Buffy's near-death experiences. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Buffy, we both know the toll these encounters take on you," he said, his tone gentle and compassionate. "I need you to be honest with me. How are you really feeling?"

Buffy hesitated, her emotions swirling within her. She appreciated Leo's genuine concern and the safe space he provided for her to express herself. With a mix of vulnerability and determination, she met his gaze. "Honestly, Dad, I'm scared," she admitted, her voice wavering slightly. "I try to be strong, but sometimes I feel overwhelmed. It's like I'm constantly on edge, waiting for the next threat to come. Wait for someone to have a really good day and it be my last. I'm turning eighteen tomorrow and I don't want to die again."

Buffy's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her fears and the raw vulnerability she shared with her father. Leo's heart ached as he witnessed the pain etched on her face. He pulled her into a gentle embrace, offering a comforting presence.

"I understand, Buffy," Leo whispered, his voice filled with empathy. "It's completely normal to feel scared and overwhelmed, especially after everything you've been through. But let me assure you, you are not alone in this. We will do everything we can to protect you and ensure your safety. Turning eighteen is a milestone, a new chapter in your life, and we will work together to make sure it's filled with happiness and fulfillment, not fear. Which brings me to the second thing. Piper told me that Hank cancelled on you and that you were going to spend your birthday in quiet reflection. You want to talk about that?"

Buffy pulled away slightly, her eyes meeting Leo's with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "Thank you, Dad," she murmured, her voice laced with emotion. "I appreciate your support more than you know. And as for my birthday..." She paused, contemplating her feelings. "Between last night and this… I just don't know if I want to celebrate it right now. I'm sorry. Anyways I need to get back to school, I got a training session with Giles." She stood up picking up her Book of Shadows and put in back on its podium before disappearing in a swirl of fiery flames.

Leo watched as Buffy retreated, a tinge of concern etching his features. He understood her need for space and time to process her emotions. As the flames engulfed her, he couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and worry. He knew his daughter possessed incredible strength, but he also sensed the weight she carried on her shoulders.

With a heavy sigh, Leo disappeared in blue and white orbing lights. He needed to speak to the Elders.

Gateway High School

Buffy's voice carried a hint of wistfulness as she tried to engage Giles in a conversation about the ice show. She watched him meticulously arrange the crystals, their shimmering forms like a cheerful procession of courageous little objects. The library seemed infused with a subdued energy, the scent of old books mingling with the faint aroma of brewing tea.

Her words hung in the air, a mixture of excitement and explanation. "I mean, there's cartoon characters," she chimed in, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "But they also perform pieces from ballets and operas. Brian Boitano doing Carmen, it's absolutely transformative. Of course, he doesn't actually play Carmen," she added with a quick clarification. "But it's a cultural experience cherished by sophisticated audiences."

Giles, still absorbed in his task, responded with a distracted "Yes," not fully registering Buffy's commentary. "I think we should start with the Grounding Crystal again."

Buffy's voice trembled with a mix of nervousness and vulnerability as she shared her thoughts. "You know, it's usually something families do together," she confessed, her words catching in her throat. She longed for the presence of a father figure to accompany her to the ice show, but the circumstances seemed to conspire against her. Leo, her biological father and Whitelighter, often had his duties called upon by the Elders, making his availability uncertain. Victor, her surrogate father and uncle, was in the process of packing and moving to San Francisco and expressed regret for missing her birthday. It seemed that every father figure in her life was unavailable, leaving her with a sense of longing and disappointment. "It's the kind of thing fathers do with their daughters."

Giles, now fully attentive, directed her focus to the Grounding Crystal. Its sizable and captivating form demanded her undivided attention. "Now, look very carefully for the tiny flaw at its core," he instructed her, his voice gentle yet firm.

Sighing heavily, Buffy turned her gaze to the crystal, her eyes fixed upon its surface. She knew she had to search for the flaw, the imperfection that resided within the crystal's otherwise pristine facade. Her thoughts drifted momentarily to the whimsical notion of a miniature rain cloud hovering above her head, a humorous representation of the challenges she faced as the Charmed Slayer.

Silence enveloped the library as Buffy continued to gaze at the flaw, her mind swirling with a mix of emotions. Time seemed to stand still as she contemplated the complexities of her destiny and the weight of her responsibilities.

After a minute or so, Giles, his voice soft and understanding, broke the stillness. "Buffy?" he called, his tone conveying a sense of concern and readiness to listen.

The Grounding Crystal had done its work. Buffy was unconscious so long as her optic link with the magical stone was not disturbed. A vampire could enter the library and drain the life from his veins—even hers—and she would do nothing to prevent it.

It was time for the dirty business at hand.

Reaching under the table, he picked up his valise and from it plucked a small leather box. Inside glittered two enormous hypodermic needle, filled with liquid. One was a potion to bind her witch and Whitelighter powers. The other was a potion meant to strip her Slayer powers.

Hating himself, he swabbed the inside of her forearm and injected her with first one hypo and then the other. He watched her as he shoved the hypos back into the box, and the box back into his valise, and the valise back under the table. As he had been instructed, she neither felt the injection nor reacted to what the potions were doing to her.

Satisfied that all was as it should be, he passed his hand over the Grounding Crystal, breaking her visual connection. She instantly blinked like someone brought out of a hypnotic trance.

Buffy's confusion lingered in the air as she tried to make sense of the sudden shift in her consciousness. Her eyes darted around the library, searching for an explanation. The realization of her hazy state sank in, and she couldn't help but feel a tinge of embarrassment. "Sorry," she mumbled, her voice laced with confusion. "Must be this flu bug I'm nursing."

Giles nodded, his concern for her well-being evident in his gaze. "Best take care of that," he replied, his tone filled with genuine care. "Perhaps we should—"

"Call it a night," Buffy interjected, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment. However, Giles was too absorbed in his own thoughts to comprehend the true nature of her disappointment. "Good idea. See ya."

As Buffy turned to leave, Giles's warm expression faded, replaced by a wave of self-loathing. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the task he had just completed. The weight of his actions bore heavily upon him, causing his face to reflect his inner turmoil. In that moment, he despised himself for his complicity in this immoral act. "Good night," he managed to utter, his voice tinged with regret.

The Heavens

Leo appeared in the midst of the heavens. His eyes scanned the ethereal landscape, searching for a specific Elder. "Roland," he called out urgently, his voice carrying a tinge of concern. Spotting the Elder, he hastened towards him, the weight of his worries evident in his hurried steps. "I need to talk to you about Buffy."

Roland regarded Leo with a quizzical expression, his wise gaze fixed upon him. Sensing the gravity of the situation, they moved away to a secluded corner of the divine realm. "What is it?" Roland inquired, his voice laced with a calm authority.

Leo took a deep breath, his voice filled with a mixture of urgency and unease. "Two things, actually," he began. "The first is that Buffy had a near-death experience last night. She and Phoebe were out on patrol when they encountered a vampire. In the ensuing battle, Phoebe was rendered unconscious, leaving Buffy to confront the vampire alone. The vampire gained the upper hand and almost killed her using her own stake."

"Is she alright?" Roland asked, his voice tinged with empathy and understanding, fully aware of the depth of Leo's love and concern for his daughter. His wise eyes searched Leo's face, awaiting the reassurance he hoped to hear.

"She's alive, she managed to vanquish it with her powers," Leo confirmed, his voice filled with relief. He could see the flicker of concern in Roland's eyes, knowing that he understood the toll such experiences took on Buffy's emotional well-being. "Emotionally, it's taking a toll on her. Each near-death encounter leaves its mark, and she's struggling to cope with the fear and trauma that accompany them. Which leads us into the second thing."

He paused taking a deep breath. "Tomorrow is her eighteenth birthday and her step-father…" Leo's voice trailed off as he noticed a look on Roland's face. "What?"

"It is not something that can be discussed per our agreement with the Powers that Be," Roland replied sadly.

Leo's brows furrowed in frustration as he absorbed Roland's words. "I understand," he said reluctantly. "But I can't help but worry about the impact this will have on her. She's been through so much already, and now to have her birthday plans disrupted... It's just another blow she doesn't need right now."

"Talk to me after the conclusion of her eighteenth birthday," Roland said, his tone stating he wouldn't take no for answer. "It is not something I can talk about before her eighteenth birthday."

Leo's gaze locked with Roland's, the weight of his concern evident in his eyes. He understood Roland's stance and respected the importance of their agreement, but his worry for Buffy remained unabated. Nodding solemnly, he acknowledged Roland's request. "I will speak to you after her birthday," he agreed, his voice filled with determination. "Thank you, Roland. Your guidance and support mean a lot to me and to Buffy." With a shared understanding, they parted ways, their minds focused on the challenges that lay ahead for the young Slayer

January 20, 1999 – Tuesday

Gateway High School

The mid-morning bustle of the changing class periods surrounded Buffy as she made her way through the crowded hallways. Her spirits were lifted, feeling a slight improvement in her well-being, whether it was due to conquering the lingering flu bug or finally getting a restful night's sleep.

"How goes it with Amy the rat?" Buffy inquired, catching up with Willow.

"She's doing well," Willow replied with a hint of enthusiasm. "She loves the new exercise wheel. Her little nose wiggles so happily when she runs—"

"I meant, how goes it with the spell to change her back into a human?" Buffy gently redirected, aware of Willow's sensitive feelings. "That was a tough one. Even I would have struggled with it."

"Oh, still working on it," Willow replied, her enthusiasm undeterred. "But I did get her the cutest little bell—"

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden outburst from a guy directed at Cordelia. In a secluded area of the quad, he loomed over her with an air of menace.

"You don't do that to me!" he shouted, his anger palpable. "I waited for you at Payson's all night! What's the story?"

Cordelia shot him a defiant glare, looking up at his towering figure. He had the build of a beefy football player, radiating aggression. "I came to my senses. And what's the big deal?" she retorted.

He roughly grabbed her arm, his grip firm. "You made me look like a total loser in front of my posse."

"First of all, 'posse'? So passé," Cordelia fired back, her voice seething with indignation. "Second, anyone with an ounce of intelligence would know not to take my flirting seriously. Especially considering my current circumstances."

"What circumstances?" the jock-head demanded, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Rebound. Look it up," Cordelia retorted sharply before turning to leave. However, her departure was abruptly halted as he grabbed her and forcefully slammed her against a nearby tree. In an instant, Buffy's transformation took place, shifting from the curious observer to the fierce and ready-to-act Blonde Avenger.

"I'm not through here," he menacingly declared to Cordelia.

Without hesitation, Buffy seized his arm. "I beg to differ." She pulled, exerting all her strength, but his arm remained firmly in place, unmoved by her efforts.

He regarded her with a mixture of disbelief and contempt, viewing her as a deranged troublemaker. Undeterred, Buffy tried again, this time using both hands and channeling all her energy into the attempt. Yet, with little effort, he effortlessly shoved her aside, causing her to collide forcefully against a stone bench and crash to the ground.

Willow hurried to Buffy's side while Cordelia processed the shocking turn of events. Fueled by fury, Cordelia launched an all-out assault on the guy, relentlessly striking him on his chest and shoulders.

"What is wrong with you?" Cordelia screamed at him as he retreated. She pursued him, intensifying her blows in a furious display reminiscent of Rocky Balboa.

He went into full retreat mode, shielding his head between his elbows. "The chick started it," he insisted defensively.

Concerned, Willow turned to Buffy. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with worry and support.

Buffy stared wordlessly up at her, so very not.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy maneuvered through the bustling school hall, swiftly making her way towards Giles. The urgency in her voice was evident as she approached him. "Okay, I just got swatted down by some no-neck and rescued by Cordelia. What the hell is happening, Giles?"

Giles maintained his composed demeanor, attempting to bring a sense of calm to the situation. "All right, calm yourself," he urged.

Her eyes darted frantically, far from calm. "Are you getting the big picture here? I have no strength! I have no coordination. I threw knives like... like..." Her voice trailed off, unable to find an adequate comparison.

"A girl?" he suggested, his voice gentle yet laced with concern.

She silently pleaded for his understanding, her eyes expressing her desperation. "Like I'm not the Charmed Slayer," she admitted, her vulnerability seeping through her words.

Giles cautiously extended his hand to place it on her shoulder, only to notice the bruise left by the guy who had shoved her. "Nasty bruise," he remarked, his worry deepening.

"You should see the one farther south," Buffy quipped, attempting to lighten the mood despite her fears.

Giles sighed, his voice filled with determination. "Look, Buffy, I assure you, given time, we'll get to the bottom of whatever's causing this... anomaly."

She tried to maintain her wide-eyed gaze, but her fear was unmistakable. This wait-and-see approach from Giles, a man known for his meticulous research, offered little comfort. "Promise me?" she implored, seeking reassurance.

"Yes. I give you my word," he assured her, hoping to provide a sense of solace.

Mildly comforted, Buffy gathered her resolve and prepared to face her next class, her apprehension still lingering within her.

Halliwell Manor

Leo materialized in the middle of the conservatory, his arrival marked by a dazzling display of blue and white orbing lights. His urgent voice echoed through the room as he called out to the sisters. "Prue, Piper, Phoebe?"

Within moments, Prue, Piper, and Phoebe emerged from different corners of the house, their expressions reflecting a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"What is it, Leo?" Prue inquired, her eyes narrowing as she took in the seriousness etched on his face.

Leo's gaze shifted among the sisters as he prepared to share the troubling information. "I spoke to the Elders," he began, his voice tinged with unease. "There is something significant happening today, something that the Elders are forbidden from discussing due to the agreement with the Powers that Be. Something having to do with today, her eighteenth birthday. If it has to do with the Powers that Be that means it has to do with the Slayer part of her."

Leo's words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow of worry across the faces of Prue, Piper, and Phoebe. Their collective concern grew with each revelation that unfolded. The sequence of unsettling events, starting with Buffy's near-fatal encounter with the vampire, followed by her step-father's sudden cancellation, and now the undisclosed significance of her eighteenth birthday, painted a disconcerting picture.

Gateway High School

Buffy, Oz, Xander, and Willow were huddled together in the school library, surrounded by towering stacks of books detailing the supernatural and the dark arts. Pages were flipped, words were scanned, and theories were exchanged in their relentless search for answers.

Xander, feeling a bit restless and eager to escape the world of textbooks, perked up when Willow made a discovery. "Aha! A curse on slayers! Oh, no, wait." She made a sorry face. "It's lawyers."

The frustration in the room was palpable as they struggled to find a breakthrough.

In an attempt to contribute, Xander offered a metaphorical suggestion, drawing on his vast knowledge of comic books. "Maybe we're on the wrong track with the spells, curses, and whammies. Maybe what we should be looking for is something like Slayer kryptonite."

"Faulty metaphor," Oz corrected pulling on his own comic book knowledge. "Kryptonite kills."

"You're assuming I meant green kryptonite," Xander said, with the confidence of a comic book geek extraordinaire. "I was referring, of course, to red kryptonite, which drains Superman of his powers."

"Wrong." Oz gave his head a shake. "Gold kryptonite's the power-sucker. Red kryptonite's the one that mutates Superman into some sort of weird—"

"—Guys," Buffy, growing increasingly impatient, reminded them, "Reality?"

That shut them down, but Xander was not out. He had not spent half his life reading comics only to be dissed by disinformation from a guy in a band, for heaven's sake.

Meanwhile, Buffy and Willow moved to a quieter corner of the library, seeking privacy amidst the chaos of their research. Unbeknownst to them, Xander's ears remained keen, capturing every word of their conversation.

Willow's soothing voice carried understanding and reassurance. "Buffy, I know you're definitely, without a doubt, going to get your Slayer powers back."

"Thanks, Will," Buffy said gratefully.

"But…what if you don't?" Willow asked. "Oh have you tried using your witch or Whitelighter powers to see if their affected also?" Buffy looked at Willow, shocked that she hadn't thought to try.

"Okay," Buffy said, her voice steady and resolute. "If I don't regain my Slayer powers, I'll accept it and find a way to cope. As for my witch and Whitelighter powers, I haven't had the opportunity to test them recently. However, I believe they should remain unaffected."

Just as Buffy finished speaking, Giles entered the library, his presence commanding attention. Sensing the urgency in Buffy's eyes, he halted in his tracks as she intercepted him in the middle of the room. "Did you find out…anything?" she inquired, her question hung in the air, laden with hope and a touch of desperation.

Giles took a deep breath, his expression lined with concern. "No," he admitted, his voice tinged with disappointment. "I haven't found any new information yet. But we'll keep searching, Buffy. We won't give up."

Angel's Mansion

As her world had careened further and further out of control, Angel's mansion had become a haven for Buffy, a sanctuary where she could find solace in his presence. Tonight, surrounded by the comforting warmth of the flickering fire, she took a moment to cherish the peacefulness of the moment. In her lap lay a wrapped gift, its contents a mystery that intrigued her.

Buffy allowed herself to bask in the moment, savoring the tranquility that enveloped them. She imagined it as a scene straight out of a romantic novel, the rustic charm of the cloth-wrapped package tied with twine adding to its allure. With eager anticipation, she carefully unwrapped it, revealing a book nestled within. Browning's Sonnets adorned the cover, a name unfamiliar to her, but she didn't let on. Instead, she opened the book, finding a one-word inscription from Angel: ALWAYS.

The sentiment touched her deeply, a soft smile gracing her lips as she closed the book. "Angel, thank you. It's truly beautiful."

However, Angel's slight frown and uncertain expression caught her attention, stirring a sense of doubt within her. "You really like it?" he questioned, his voice tinged with insecurity.

Caught off guard, Buffy quickly tried to reassure him, her enthusiasm bubbling up as she leafed through the book. "Of course I do! It's thoughtful and sweet, and it's filled with these amazing words to learn and say. Words like 'wilt' and 'henceforth'... It's perfect, Angel."

"Then why did you seem more excited last year when you got a severed arm in a box?" His tone was kind, and it was moments like these that reminded Buffy of how very, very old Angel actually was.

She decided it was time to open up, to share her deepest fears and insecurities with Angel. After all, he was more than just a romantic partner. He was her confidant, her pillar of support, and the one of the few people who understood her.

"I'm sorry. Really, I love the book. And I love what you wrote," she began, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "But suddenly, there's this chance that the Slayer part of me could be taken away from me. And it's freaking me out a little."

Angel nodded understandingly, his eyes filled with compassion.

"Angel, what if I have lost my Slayer powers?" she asked, searching his face for any sign of reassurance.

"You lived a long time without them," he reminded her gently. "You can do it again. Besides, you still have your witch and Whitelighter powers, right?"

Buffy sighed, relieved to still have those abilities intact. "As far as I know, I still have them. I haven't had a reason to check. I don't see why I would lose them though. But what if I can't get my Slayer powers back? What if I'm left defenseless, hiding under my bed, scared and helpless?"

Her voice trembled as she expressed her worst fear. "Or worse, what if I become pathetic? Hanging out at the 'Old Slayers' Home,' reminiscing about my glory days and showing off a bronzed stake named Mr. Pointy?"

Angel moved closer to her, his voice soothing and reassuring. "Buffy, you could never be helpless or boring, not even if you tried. Besides, you can still use your witch powers for protection. You would just have to be more careful."

But her doubts persisted. "Oh, don't be so sure. Before I became the Slayer I was…well, I don't want to say shallow, but…let's just say a certain person who shall remain nameless, let's call her 'Spordelia,' looked like a classical philosopher next to me. "

Taking a deep breath, Buffy gathered her courage and voiced her deepest fear. "Angel, if I'm not the Slayer, what do I have to offer? What do I do?" Her voice lowered to a whisper as she added, "Why would you like me?"

To her relief, Angel didn't brush off her concerns with empty platitudes. Instead, he spoke softly, his words carrying a weight of sincerity. "I saw you before you came into either of your powers," he revealed, his voice filled with tenderness.

Buffy's eyes widened in astonishment. "What?" she uttered, unable to comprehend what he was saying.

"I watched you," he continued, his gaze locked with hers. "I saw you called as the Slayer. It was a bright afternoon in front of your school. You walked down the steps, and in that moment, I fell in love with you."

Her confusion deepened. "Why?" she questioned, her voice filled with genuine bewilderment.

"Because I could see your heart," he explained, his voice filled with emotion. "You held it before you for everyone to see, and I worried that it would be bruised or torn. More than anything in my life, I wanted to keep it safe, to warm it with my own."

Overwhelmed by his words, Buffy melted into his embrace, feeling comforted and loved. "That's beautiful," she whispered, feeling a mixture of gratitude and affection. Then, after a moment of contemplation, she added with a hint of playfulness, "Or, taken literally, incredibly gross."

Angel chuckled softly, his arms tightening around her. "I was just thinking that too," he admitted. "But Buffy, even if your Slayer powers don't come back, you will never be defenseless. You still have your witch and Whitelighter powers. Don't ever doubt yourself or think you're vulnerable because it's not true. You will always have strength, and I'll be right here by your side."

Streets of San Francisco

The moon's soft glow illuminated the darkened street as Buffy made her way back to the Manor. The burnt-out streetlamp cast eerie shadows around her, amplifying the unease she felt deep within. The night air was filled with distant noises, heightening her already heightened senses. It was a feeling she couldn't recall experiencing before, not even in her days as an airheaded teenager at Hemery High.

Pulling her coat closer around her, she couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of smallness and solitude that engulfed her. The wet pavement seemed to stretch endlessly ahead, reflecting the dim lights of the few streetlamps that still flickered to life.

As she walked, her steps resonated with a heaviness born out of weariness and vulnerability. Up the street, two intimidating figures stood beside a car, their menacing gazes fixed upon her. The lewd once-over they gave her sent a chill down her spine, causing her muscles to tense.

One of them called out with crude intent, his voice laced with disrespect, "Hey, sweet girl. How much for a lap dance for me and my buddy?" Laughter erupted from both men, echoing in the night. Buffy gritted her teeth, her instincts urging her to confront them, to fight back. But she knew deep down that in her weakened state, taking them on would be futile.

Their laughter followed her as she continued on her way, their demeaning words lingering in her mind. "Walk me home, Angel?" she muttered under her breath, mocking the words she had spoken just moments ago. "No. I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

With each step, she listened intently to the symphony of the night—crickets chirping, the distant sound of passing cars, the faint barks of dogs in the distance. Her own footsteps provided a steady rhythm, but then, amidst the familiar sounds, a strange and unsettling humming reached her ears. Its low, guttural tone sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn't help but wonder if the two men had followed her.

Feeling unnerved, she scanned her surroundings, her senses on high alert. It wasn't the leering men, but she remained cautious. "Hummers," she exclaimed in a voice filled with feigned confidence. "Big turnoff. I prefer guys who can remember the lyrics."

Summoning all her courage, she abruptly turned around to confront her mysterious pursuer, only to find herself gasping in shock at the sight that awaited her.

She found herself face to face with a towering, deranged-looking vampire, his twisted grin sending chills down her spine. His words dripped with sadistic amusement, "Wish I could, but my mind's not what it used to be."

Buffy's instinct to escape kicked in, and she tried to pull away, but the vampire's grip tightened around the sleeve of her coat, keeping her firmly in his clutches. Without a second thought, she struck him twice in the face, hoping to incapacitate him. However, he seemed unfazed by her attacks. Memories of previous encounters with powerful adversaries flooded her mind, intensifying her fear. This vampire was bigger, scarier, and exuded an aura of sheer menace. She was in grave danger.

Her voice quivering with terror, she pleaded, "Let me go."

The vampire sneered, mocking her vulnerability. "Didn't say 'please'," he taunted, pulling her closer, his fangs bared menacingly. The overwhelming fear paralyzed her, making it difficult to think clearly.

Desperate to defend herself, Buffy tried to tap into her powers, but to her dismay, she discovered that she couldn't. It was as if all her powers, witch and Whitelighter included, had been stripped away, leaving her defenseless.

As panic engulfed her, she whispered a desperate plea to the universe, "Oh, Goddess, I'm Payson Patricia Halliwell, and I'm only eighteen. I don't want to die like this, alone and helpless, a victim."

Seizing a momentary distraction when her sleeve slipped off her arm, she swiftly slipped out of her coat and retreated, only to be confronted by another vampire blocking her path. Fear fueled her survival instinct as she screamed, "Get off me!"

With adrenaline coursing through her veins, she bolted in the opposite direction, running for her life. However, her sprint lacked the grace and agility of the Charmed Slayer. Instead, she ran as someone who had skipped physical education classes and indulged in unhealthy habits. Her lungs burned, and she wheezed with each desperate breath. Her arms and legs flailed clumsily, threatening to send her crashing to the ground if she lost her footing.

Almost dismissively, as if her head start meant nothing, the taller vampire gestured to his companion, who immediately pursued Buffy with relentless determination.

Almost casually, as if her head start were negligible, the taller vampire gave a subtle nod, signaling his companion to give chase. Panic surged through Buffy as she called out, "Dad," hoping Leo would come to her aid. But her pleas were met with silence, exacerbating her growing sense of danger. The realization struck her like a blow: she was no longer a witch or a Whitelighter, stripped of her magical powers alongside her Slayer ones when she needed them most.

Desperately scanning her surroundings for a lifeline, her eyes landed on a tall, chain-link fence in the distance. Determination flooded her as she made a beeline for it, her voice cracking with desperation, "Help me, please!"

With trembling hands, she reached the fence, feeling the unforgiving coldness of the metal digging into her fingers as she clung to it. However, her once effortless leaping ability had abandoned her, leaving her unable to clear the height of the barrier. Frantically, she attempted to climb it, but her weakened muscles betrayed her. Her movements were clumsy, lacking the strength she once possessed.

Realizing that scaling the fence was futile, she noticed a small hole in the mesh right in front of her. Without hesitation, she dropped down and awkwardly pushed herself through, enduring scratches from the jagged-cut links that lacerated her face and arms. The pain barely registered as the minion vampire closed in, gripping her leg with a vice-like hold. Buffy kicked, thrashed, and screamed, her every fiber straining to escape through the narrow opening. The vampire exerted its strength, pulling her back, threatening to drag her back into its clutches. Once again, she felt the cold grip of impending death.

Yet, through sheer determination, she managed to squeeze through the hole, finally breaking free from the vampire's grasp. Gasping for breath, she struggled to her feet, disoriented and disheveled. A glimmer of hope flickered as the headlights of an oncoming car illuminated her surroundings. Buffy waved her arms frantically, her voice a mix of desperation and pleading, "Stop! Please! I need..."

But the car showed no signs of slowing down. In fact, it seemed intent on running her over. Buffy's heart pounded in her chest as she darted out of harm's way, narrowly avoiding a potentially fatal collision.

"Stop!" she pleaded, her voice filled with anguish, the weight of her vulnerability and dire situation bearing down on her.

She looked back, her eyes widening with terror as she saw the vampire scaling the fence, relentlessly pursuing her. Panic seized her, and she screamed, turning to run. In her frantic state, she failed to notice the approaching lights of another car hurtling toward her.

With a sickening realization that escape was impossible, Buffy braced herself for the impact, her heart pounding in her chest. But in a miraculous twist of fate, the car swerved at the last possible moment, narrowly avoiding a collision. It screeched to a halt, and the passenger door swung open, revealing Giles behind the wheel of his Citroën.

"Hurry!" he barked urgently, his voice laced with concern and determination.

Buffy wasted no time and quickly climbed into the car. Giles didn't wait for her to fully close the door before he accelerated, his foot pressing hard on the gas pedal. As the car sped away, the vampire desperately clung to the door, pulling at it with all its strength. With a fierce kick, Buffy managed to dislodge him, sending him tumbling onto the road.

Though momentarily defeated, the vampire quickly regained his footing, determined to continue the pursuit. Yet, Giles skillfully widened the distance between the car and the relentless creature, granting Buffy a brief respite. She turned her attention back to the road, her body trembling uncontrollably, tears welling up in her eyes.

Her voice trembled as she spoke, the words heavy with vulnerability, "I... I couldn't… couldn't fight them. I tried to flame back to the Manor, but I can't. My Whitelighter powers… they don't work."

Giles silenced her with a firm command, his voice tinged with regret, "Don't speak." He swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his thoughts consumed with guilt and shame.

"I felt... helpless," Buffy continued, her voice filled with anguish as tears glistened in her eyes, reflecting the raw emotions she was experiencing.

Gateway High School

Giles sat beside Buffy in the school library, his heart heavy with guilt and remorse. The weight of his betrayal weighed heavily on him as he watched her, wrapped in a blanket for comfort. The relief in her eyes upon seeing him only made his task more difficult.

Her mind was consumed with reliving the traumatic attack, desperately seeking a way to undo the damage and regain her sense of strength and power. "When I hit him, it felt like my arm was broken. It hurt so much. Giles… I can't be… just a person. I can't be helpless like that." Her eyes were huge. "We have to find out what's happening to me."

The temptation to retrieve his journal and lay bare his wrongdoing was strong, but he knew it would only cause her further pain. He needed to bear the burden of his actions alone. With a numbness that spread from his head to his toes, he retrieved a leather case and placed it before her, opening it to reveal the hypos and vials of liquid.

His voice was strained, filled with remorse as he explained, "The one on the left contains an organic compound of muscle relaxants and adrenal suppressers. The one on the right is a potion that bound your magic..." He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the impact of his words. "The effects of both are temporary. In a few days, you will return to your true self."

He spoke with a heavy heart, each word carrying the weight of his betrayal. He wanted to ensure that he left nothing unsaid, even if it meant risking her respect and love. He knew that revealing the truth might shatter their bond forever, but he couldn't bear to hide it any longer.

Buffy's hand trembled as she reached out to take the box, her eyes fixed on it with a mix of confusion and revulsion. Her voice was hoarse as she struggled to form words. "You...," she uttered, her voice filled with pain and disbelief.

Giles swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice wavering with regret. "It's a test, Buffy," he explained, trying to retain a sense of gentleness. He desperately wanted to make amends, to fix the irreparable damage he had caused. "It's given to a Slayer when she reaches her eighteenth birthday, if she reaches it."

He paused, waiting for her reaction, but she remained in a stunned silence, her gaze fixed on the hypos in her hand.

"The Slayer is disabled and then pitted against a vampire foe that she must defeat to pass," he continued, his pacing reflecting his inner turmoil. He couldn't bear her paralysis, her inability to fully grasp the truth. "The vampire you were meant to face has escaped. His name is Zackary Kralik. As a human, he was a sadistic murderer, responsible for the torture and deaths of more than a dozen young women. He was confined to a sanitarium for the criminally insane."

His words were interrupted as the leather box was flung at him, narrowly missing his head, and the contents shattered against a bookcase. He turned to face Buffy, her body trembling with rage rather than shock.

"You bastard! You knew what it was doing to me all this time, and you kept silent!" she screamed, her voice filled with hatred and betrayal.

"I wanted to..." Giles began, his words falling short in the face of her justified anger.

"Liar!" she shrieked, her voice raw with pain.

"In matters of tradition and protocol, I am bound to answer to the Council," he explained, his voice filled with remorse. As Buffy buried her face in her hands, he continued, his voice heavy with sorrow. "My role was specific. I was to administer the injections and direct you to the old boardinghouse down the street from the Manor..."

"I can't... I can't hear this," she managed, her voice choked with anguish.

"Buffy, please," Giles pleaded, his heart breaking at the sight of her pain. What had he done? How could he have betrayed her like this?

She looked at him with shattered trust, her voice filled with anguish. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling. "How could you do this to me?"

Desperate to bridge the divide between them, Giles reached out to her. "I'm deeply sorry, Buffy. You have to understand—" he began.

Through clenched teeth, she cut him off. "If you touch me, I'll kill you."

He recoiled, the weight of his actions heavy upon him. "You have to listen to me," he pleaded. "Because I've told you the truth, the test is invalidated. You'll be safe. I promise." His voice cracked with emotion. "I'll do whatever it takes to deal with Kralik and earn back your trust—"

"You stuck a needle in me. You poisoned me," Buffy said, her voice low and filled with anger. She turned to leave the library.

"Buffy, you can't walk home alone," Giles called after her, his concern evident. "It isn't safe." He took a step toward her, but she spun around, her face contorted with bitter loathing.

"I don't know you," she spat, her gaze shifting to the sky. "Dad!" she called out.

Leo materialized in blue and white orbing lights, letting out a sigh of relief. He, Prue and Piper had gone out looking for Buffy when she hadn't come straight home after school. It had taken him some time orbing all over the place since he had been having trouble sensing her. He acknowledged Giles with a nod. "Rupert."

"Leo," Giles replied, acknowledging him in return.

Leo turned his attention to Buffy, his eyes filled with concern. "Where have you been?" he asked his daughter.

"It's a long story, Dad," Buffy replied, her expression remained unchanged as she spoke, her voice cold. "Can you orb me home?"

Leo looked at Buffy, confusion evident on his face. "She can't," Giles interjected, seeing the confusion, his voice laced with sorrow. "Her powers are..."

Leo looked from Buffy to Giles and back to Buffy. He frowned as the ramifications hit him. Giles had given Buffy something that bound her powers. "Slayer too?"

"Yes," Giles answered. "Once you take her home, come back and I will fill you in."

Leo nodded as he wrapped his arms around his daughter and they orbed out.

Halliwell Manor

Phoebe sat the dining table studying, as she highlighted a passage in her textbook, she cocked her head. There was a strange sound outside. It sounded like moaning, or crying.

On the alert, she went to the front door and opened it. Someone was balled in a fetal position at the front of the porch.

Phoebe's heart raced as she recognized the familiar sight of Buffy's coat draped over the huddled figure at the front of the porch. A surge of fear and concern coursed through her veins. "Buffy?" she called out, her voice laced with worry.

Rushing forward, Phoebe reached out to touch the person's arm, desperate for confirmation that it was her cousin. But as the figure rolled over, Phoebe's eyes widened in shock and dread. It wasn't Buffy lying before her; it was a vampire, its twisted smile and deranged eyes betraying its wicked nature.

In a chilling, deranged tone, the vampire addressed her with a taunting familiarity. "Cousin?" it sneered, its voice dripping with malice and madness.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Leo materialized in Buffy's bedroom, his presence bringing a comforting aura. The blue and white orbing lights faded as he looked at his daughter with concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of anger and worry.

Buffy let out a weary sigh, her shoulders slumping with the weight of recent events. "Not by far," she replied, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "He stripped my powers. Some test."

Leo's anger flared at the injustice inflicted upon his daughter. "Why would he do that?" he growled, his frustration evident. "Will you be okay? I can call Prue, Piper, or Phoebe back home if you need their support..."

Buffy interrupted him, her voice firm but tired. "I'm fine, Dad," she assured him. "I think I just need some time to process everything."

Leo nodded, understanding the need for solitude in such moments. Placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, he looked into her eyes. "Okay. Hand me your cell phone. I wasn't hearing your call and I can't sense you with your powers being bound."

Buffy nodded as she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone before handing it to him.

"Call me, if you need me, I'll be here for you." With those words, he disappeared in a burst of orbing light, determined to confront Giles and give him a piece of his mind.

Gateway High School

Leo materialized in the library, his arrival accompanied by a swirl of blue and white orbing lights. He found Giles sitting at the library table, his face heavy with guilt and resignation. The tension in the air was palpable as Leo confronted him. "What did you do?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger.

Giles let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his actions. "It's a test," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "Every Slayer who reaches her eighteenth birthday is subjected to it. They are stripped of their powers and pitted against a vampire."

Leo's anger flared, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You're telling me that the organization you work for is essentially sanctioning murder when a Slayer comes of age?" he questioned, his voice filled with righteous indignation.

Giles's expression grew somber, his gaze fixed on the table before him. "In a way, yes," he reluctantly admitted. "Those who do not survive the test, it can be seen as such. I've always found the test barbaric, but I'm bound by my role as a Watcher. If I were to refuse, they would simply replace me with another who would follow their instructions. And now, with Buffy knowing about the test, they may very well do so anyway."

Leo glared at Giles for a long moment as realization began to sink in. This is what Roland was forbidden from talking about. He disappeared in blue and white orbing lights.

The Heavens

Leo materialized in the heavens, his arrival marked by a radiant glow. Determination burned in his eyes as he marched straight over to Roland. The celestial atmosphere crackled with tension as Leo confronted him. "This test, this is what the Powers that Be forbid from being discussed, isn't it?" he asked, his voice laced with anger and disappointment.

Roland's gaze shifted uneasily, sensing the gravity of the situation. He glanced at the other Elders before motioning for Leo to step aside, seeking a more private conversation. His expression was filled with sorrow as he addressed Leo. "Yes, Leo," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "If I had revealed the truth, if I had told you, Buffy would have faced permanent loss of her Slayer powers by the decree of the Powers that Be. And as we know, that would have had a ripple effect on her other powers. Her ability to create fireballs would have been stripped completely. Her flame telekinesis, and flame teleportation would have reverted back to the traditional Whitelighter powers she would have normally possessed if the Slayer hadn't influenced her powers."

Leo's anger and disappointment were tempered by a somber understanding of the dire consequences. He knew the Powers that Be operated according to their own enigmatic rules and purposes, but it didn't ease the pain of the deception. "So they would sacrifice her Slayer heritage, her very essence, to maintain their predetermined balance?" Leo's voice resonated with a mix of anger and sorrow.

Roland nodded, his expression filled with empathy. "Unfortunately, yes," he confirmed, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Powers that Be adhere to a delicate equilibrium in the supernatural realm. If Buffy's destiny as a Slayer clashed with their intricate plans, they would have deemed it necessary to sever that connection, even if it meant stripping her of her unique powers and abilities."

With a nod of understanding, Leo absorbed the gravity of the situation. The delicate equilibrium that governed the supernatural realms was a precarious dance of forces, and Buffy's destiny was entangled in its intricate choreography. The Powers that Be, ever vigilant in maintaining their grand design, were willing to sacrifice Buffy's unique powers and abilities if it meant preserving their grand tapestry. It was a decision that resonated with both sorrow and necessity.

Roland's voice trembled with a mix of remorse and understanding as he continued, his words barely audible in the celestial stillness. "I am sorry for not revealing this earlier, Leo," he confessed. "Buffy's destiny is not a simple path. It is a delicate balance between her roles as a witch, a Whitelighter, and a Slayer. Each aspect intertwines with the others, and any loss or disruption to one side could potentially unravel the entire tapestry of her fate. We were considering the long-term implications, the future that awaited her in this complex web of destinies."

Halliwell Manor

Buffy's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of determination and fear coursing through her veins as she confronted the ominous sight before her. The front door stood ajar, a gateway to the unknown, and her instincts kicked into high gear. She scanned the area, her trained eyes searching for any signs of disturbance or the presence of an intruder.

Her voice echoed through the empty house, "Prue, Piper, Phoebe?" she called out, but only silence greeted her. A feeling of unease settled in her stomach, intensifying with every passing second. It was then that her gaze fell upon the small square object affixed to the door. She approached it cautiously, her hand trembling as she reached out to retrieve it.

As her eyes locked onto the Polaroid picture, a chill ran down Buffy's spine, causing her to shudder involuntarily. Phoebe's terrified expression stared back at her, a haunting reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. The image burned itself into Buffy's mind, filling her with a mixture of rage and determination.

She flipped the photograph over, her heart pounding in her ears as she read the stark message scrawled in bold marker across the back: Come.

The weight of those four letters settled heavily upon her, consuming her thoughts and driving her forward. Suppressing her rising panic, Buffy ascended the stairs with a warrior's resolve, her expression grim and focused. In the privacy of her room, she shed her previous attire and donned a practical outfit - overalls and a long-sleeved top - embracing the guise of a battle-ready fighter.

Methodically, she secured her hair away from her face, her hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. With a firm grip, she hefted her weapons bag onto the bed and began the task of stocking it meticulously. Stakes, crosses, and a crossbow found their place alongside vials of holy water in the pockets of her overalls. Each item symbolized her determination, her readiness to face the impending threat head-on.

The weight of her weapons bag seemed to challenge her resolve, but she refused to be deterred. Summoning her inner strength, Buffy maneuvered the heavy load off the bed, her muscles straining with the effort. Step by determined step, she made her way towards the front door, fueled by the urgency to confront the danger that awaited her.

Before leaving, she took a moment to leave a note for Prue and Piper, her words penned with a sense of urgency and caution. Placing it on the table by the door, she ensured that her cousins would see it upon their return, a testament to her concern for their safety and a silent plea for their understanding.

With her weapons bag in hand and her resolve unyielding, Buffy pushed the door open, stepping into the unknown, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Streets of San Francisco

Guided by the sinister presence of the second vampire, the monstrous figure maintained a tight grip on Phoebe as they traversed the dimly lit streets. The cloak of night concealed their nefarious intentions, and the unsuspecting few who happened to pass by remained oblivious to the nightmarish scene unfolding before their eyes.

A glimmer of hope flickered within Phoebe when a passing car slowed down, its driver casting a curious gaze towards her and her towering captor. Desperation welled up inside her, and she yearned to scream for help, but the vampire's iron grip on her shoulder sent searing pain through her body, stifling any attempts to raise an alarm.

The car continued on its way, oblivious to the unfolding tragedy. Phoebe's heart sank, her hope fading into despair. Yet, she clung to the belief that Prue, Piper, or Buffy, would eventually come to her rescue. She repeated the mantra to herself, finding solace in the thought that her family would not rest until she was found.

Abruptly, the vampire's murmurs broke through her thoughts, his words laced with malice and anticipation. "Almost there," he muttered, a sinister promise hanging in the air. Then, without warning, he struck her with a force that sent shockwaves of pain through her body. Darkness enveloped her senses, and she succumbed to its embrace, her body limp and lifeless within the clutches of her captor.

Prescott Arms

The Prescott Arms loomed before Buffy like a house of horrors, its eerie stillness emphasizing the presence of something malevolent. Shadows clung to every corner, suffocating any remnants of starlight or moonlight that dared to penetrate the darkness. With trepidation, she cautiously stepped into the foreboding space, her senses strained to make sense of her surroundings.

Fear gripped her, threatening to consume her weakened and tired state. She felt the weight of her vulnerability pressing upon her. But amidst the despair, a realization struck her like a bolt of lightning: she was still the Charmed Slayer. The ember of that thought ignited a fierce determination within her, fueling her spirit with renewed strength.

Asserting her presence, she wedged a stake in the doorway to keep it slightly ajar, a small gesture to maintain an exit route if needed. Crossbow loaded and ready, she advanced through the house, a predator in the night, moving with stealth and purpose.

Her heart raced, adrenaline flooding her veins, causing her body to tremble with both anticipation and terror. The unfamiliar layout of the house and the enveloping darkness challenged her senses. In a large room dominated by an empty crate, she hesitated before venturing towards the doorway on the other end, her courage mustering in the face of the unknown.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the doorknob, only to be met with a solid wall of bricks and mortar. Confusion and anxiety mounted as the realization settled in—she was trapped in a maze of deceit and danger. Panic threatened to engulf her, pushing her to the brink of losing control. Desperation welled up within her, as she grappled with the uncertainty that loomed before her.

Gateway High School

After Leo had orbed out, Giles had retreated to the solace of his office. Gripping the phone tightly, he dialed the boardinghouse number repeatedly, his growing anxiety mirrored by the incessant ringing. The absence of a response only deepened his concern, fueling his anger with each unanswered call.

Just as frustration threatened to consume him, Quentin Travers, a senior Council member, entered the library, prompting Giles to abruptly end his futile attempts. The tension was palpable as their eyes met.

"I was trying to reach you," Giles stated, his tone laden with reproach.

"I was on watch, by the boardinghouse," Quentin replied solemnly.

"Then you know what's happened," Giles continued, his anger simmering beneath his composed facade.

The weight of the situation hung heavily in the air, but Quentin remained impassive, unyielding. "Yes."

"He's killed Hobson. And made Blair one of his own," Giles declared pointedly, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. Yet, Quentin's lack of response only fueled Giles's frustration further. "Your perfectly controlled test has spun rather impressively out of control, don't you think?"

Quentin remained silent, his lack of remorse or concern further stoking Giles's anger.

Undeterred, Giles held his ground. "Well, then, allow me. I've told Buffy everything."

Finally, a flicker of emotion crossed Quentin's face, but his reply was as steadfast as ever. "That is in direct opposition to the Council's orders."

Giles's patience wore thin, his voice laced with contempt. "Yes. Interestingly enough, I don't give a rat's ass about the Council's orders. There will be no test."

Quentin countered, his tone tinged with a hint of victory. "The test has already begun. Your Slayer entered the field of play about ten minutes ago."

The unexpected interruption came in the form of Prue's voice, cutting through the tense atmosphere.

Giles and Quentin turned to face Prue and Piper, who stood alongside Leo. Their arrival injected a renewed determination into the situation.

After the reveal by the Elders about the impact of interfering with this test, Leo had gone and told Piper and Prue, but when he had tried to sense Phoebe so he could get her as well he learned that he was trouble sensing her. He was almost sure that Phoebe was being shielded from him because she had become part of the test.

"Why?" Prue's question hung in the air, demanding answers.

Giles exchanged a meaningful glance with Prue before turning back to Quentin. "I don't know, Ms. Halliwell. I returned there just as she entered," Quentin answered.

Without further hesitation, Giles moved swiftly toward the exit, determined to make amends. However, Quentin positioned himself in his path, attempting to impede his progress. "Giles," Quentin said, "we have no business—"

Giles's patience snapped, his voice sharp and resolute. "This isn't business." He then shifted his attention to Leo. "Take me to her. I want to make this right."

"Where is she and Phoebe?" Leo asked. His question hung in the air, filled with worry and urgency.

Giles met his gaze, raising an eyebrow in response, confused on why he believed Phoebe would be at the boarding house.

"We believe that the vampires have her. The Powers that Be," Leo spoke the name with a mixture of resentment and anger, "are insisting on this test proceeding. Any interference from the Elders would result in the permanent loss of her Slayer powers. Because of your potion I can't sense Buffy because while her powers are bound she is technically no longer a witch. And I can't sense Phoebe because believe the Powers that Be are shielding her from me because she's there."

A gasp escaped Giles's lips as he absorbed the weight of the revelation. His eyes widened. "Dear Lord," he exclaimed, his voice trembling with a mix of guilt and genuine surprise. "I didn't know, Leo. I swear."

Leo's expression softened, realizing Giles's sincerity. Placing a comforting arm on the Watcher's shoulder, he offered reassurance. "I believe you. Where is she?"

Giles wasted no time in providing the crucial information. "Prescott Arms," he answered, the urgency evident in his voice. Without further delay, Leo and Giles vanished in a swirl of blue and white orbing lights, their collective determination propelling them towards the rescue of Buffy and Phoebe.

Prue's stern voice echoed in the room, directing her words at Quentin. "I think we need to have a serious conversation."

Piper voiced her agreement, her tone firm and resolute.

Prescott Arms

In the parlor, Buffy didn't want to let go of her weapons bag, but she couldn't heft it around any longer. She put it down, hyperalert for any telltale clanking of metal on metal, and inched forward, crossbow at the ready. She went back to the front door. It was shut tight, and she couldn't get it back open.

She began to turn, and that was when the vampire leaped out behind her.

She spun and fired, but as with her library target practice, her aim was off.

The bolt went wild, and the vampire—not Kralik, but his minion—grabbed the crossbow and wrenched it away from her. Then he grabbed her throat, cutting off her air supply. It hurt, but she didn't give up, even though she began to weaken from lack of oxygen. Spots danced against the pitch darkness. Her legs were on fire.

With sheer determination, Buffy managed to wriggle free from the vampire's clutches, her body fueled by a surge of adrenaline. Desperate to escape, she raced into the next room, her eyes fixated on her weapons bag hidden behind the sofa. The vampire pursued her relentlessly, leaping onto the sofa and lunging towards her over its back. She scuttled away, the seconds ticking away, too short to retrieve a weapon. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her lungs ablaze with exertion, and her body covered in cuts and bruises. Fear coursed through her veins, distorting her vision with flickering spots of darkness.

Undeterred, the vampire closed in, his relentless pursuit narrowing the gap. Buffy backed up against a towering bookcase, desperation etched on her face. He advanced further, inch by inch, and in a desperate act of self-preservation, she toppled the bookcase onto him. A cacophony of heavy objects crashed down upon him, enough to crush a human being. Only a portion of his head and an arm remained visible, disoriented but still dangerous. With a grip of determination, he seized Buffy's ankle. In a moment of instinctive reaction, she snatched a table lamp and ruthlessly brought it down upon his head, blow after blow, until his hand fell limp.

Breathless and on the verge of losing control, Buffy struggled to regain composure. Despite her disoriented state, she mustered the strength to grab her weapons bag, clutching it tightly. Back in the hallway of the sinister house, she moved cautiously, her senses on high alert. Uncertainty plagued her as she pondered her next move—should she ascend the stairs or continue down the hallway? With tentative steps, she proceeded down the corridor, but her heart froze as an eerie, chilling whisper enveloped her senses.

"Hide and seek."

Fear tightened its grip on her, and she fought to stifle the panic rising within her. Her teeth clenched, she strained to identify the source of the whisper, battling against the cacophony of her racing heart. Each beat resounded in her ears, threatening to drown out any sound. With all her focus, she strained to listen for footsteps or the slightest creak of the floorboards, any clue that would reveal her enemy's position.

And then it came again, louder this time. "Hide and seek!"

In a whirlwind of anxiety, Buffy spun around, her senses heightened, yet still unable to locate the elusive whisperer. The encroaching panic threatened to consume her, but she refused to succumb. She had to stay composed, had to remain focused for Phoebe's sake, or they would both meet their demise. Her attention was drawn back to the closed crate, a haunting presence in the hallway.

As she approached, her guard remained up, alert to any sudden movement. But in a sinister twist, Kralik sprang out from the crate like a malevolent jack-in-the-box, seizing Buffy with a tight grip. She squirmed and fought with every ounce of strength within her, refusing to succumb to his grasp.

Kralik's twisted smile widened, oozing with sadistic delight. His voice dripped with perverse intimacy as he taunted Buffy, his grip tightening around her. In his other hand, he carelessly discarded her weapons bag, no longer of interest to him. His eyes fixated on her, his fangs glinting ominously in the dim light, evoking the image of a ravenous beast ready to pounce. Reluctantly, Buffy inhaled the putrid stench of his breath, a nauseating blend of decaying flesh, while his ice-cold hands sent shivers down her spine. Thoughts of Phoebe flooded her mind, a heavy burden of guilt weighing upon her soul.

A flicker of hope ignited within Buffy as she remembered the small cross concealed in the pocket of her overalls. Acting on instinct, she brandished it before Kralik, its holy symbol poised as a barrier between them. In an instant, his grip on her loosened, accompanied by a hiss of pain. The power of the cross had repelled him, granting her a brief respite. Thoughts raced through her mind—weapons, she needed her weapons. With newfound determination, she moved towards her discarded bag.

But Kralik was not finished with his sadistic game. Unexpectedly, he seized her hand, still clutching the cross. He pulled open his jumpsuit, exposing his bare chest, and pressed the cross against his flesh. Smoke rose from his scorching skin, yet his lustful grin only intensified. The depravity escalated as he guided her hand lower, inch by inch, relishing in her humiliation. Buffy recoiled in terror and disgust, wrenching her hand away from his grasp. Filled with revulsion, she fled from him, sprinting down the hall without sparing a second glance, propelled by sheer desperation.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she sought refuge in the kitchen, her breath ragged.

Buffy's heart raced as she slammed the dilapidated kitchen door behind her, fully aware of its fragile state. Desperation fueled her search for a weapon, her eyes frantically scanning the room for any object that could aid her in the battle against her relentless enemy. Yet, to her dismay, she found nothing of use. Cowering behind the feeble door would only reduce her to an easy target. She had to keep moving, to continue her search for a means to defeat Kralik.

Pressing forward, she swiftly navigated through the kitchen and reentered the darkened hallway, positioning herself at the far end, beneath the looming staircase. The weight of her mission and the direness of the situation intensified her anxiety. Every muscle in her body tensed, ready for Kralik's imminent attack. But as she cautiously ascended the stairs, he did not make his presence known. Seizing the opportunity, she climbed as fast as her trembling legs allowed.

However, her respite was short-lived. Kralik's hand burst through the railings, snatching hold of her ankle. With a forceful yank, she was sent hurtling back down the stairs, her head colliding with a step in a blinding burst of pain. For a fleeting moment, darkness threatened to claim her consciousness, but she fought against it, quickly regaining her senses. Kralik continued to growl and claw at her, but she managed to reach for a splintered rail, thrusting it towards his menacing face. He recoiled with a snarl, granting her a brief respite to rise to her feet.

Blood trickled down her face, her hand instinctively pressing against the wound as she limped her way up the stairs, Kralik in close pursuit. The upstairs hallway offered a fleeting refuge, and she barged into the first room she came across. Frantically, she slammed the door shut, bolting it with the knowledge that it would only provide a momentary barrier. The room enveloped her in impenetrable darkness, and the putrid, repulsive stench assaulted her senses, making her skin crawl. Disoriented and in pain, she fumbled in the darkness, desperately searching for a source of light. The bleeding from her head intensified, her forehead searing with fiery agony.

True to her expectations, Kralik threw himself against the door with full force. He relentlessly hammered it, his vampire physique acting as a battering ram. Buffy knew it was only a matter of time before the barrier would give way, estimating that a mere two or three more strikes would be enough to breach her fragile sanctuary.

The weight of fear and the loss of blood were taking their toll on Buffy's battered body. Her thoughts became muddled, and she knew that if she allowed herself to remain rooted in confusion, she would meet her demise within moments. With each forceful slam of the vampire against the door, Buffy swayed unsteadily in the suffocating darkness.

But then, her trembling hand brushed against a dangling light cord. Without hesitation, she seized it and yanked it down. The sudden illumination of the bare bulb hanging above exposed the room in a harsh, sallow light. The walls were adorned with an unsettling sight—countless Polaroid pictures, each depicting Phoebe in a state of captivity, bound, gagged, and consumed by terror. The room had become a haunting gallery of Phoebe's torment.

Overwhelmed by grief and guilt, Buffy fought to regain her composure. She focused on one of the photos, taking in Phoebe's anguished expression. A flicker of realization crossed Buffy's eyes as she noticed an object in the background—a boiler. It dawned on her that Phoebe was being held captive in the basement.

Before she could fully process this revelation, Kralik's fist burst through the door, frantically reaching for the bolt. Buffy swiftly darted towards another door on the opposite side of the room, taking it as her means of escape. She raced back into the dimly lit hallway, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt like a rat trapped in a maze, pursued relentlessly by a ruthless predator.

To one side, a laundry chute beckoned as a possible route. On the other side, a path led back downstairs. Without hesitation, Buffy chose the descent, hoping to find her way to the basement where Phoebe was held captive.

But before she could make her escape, the monstrous Kralik intercepted her, seizing her once again. His sadistic smile had vanished, replaced by an urgent whisper against her neck. "If you stray from the path, you will lose your way," he hissed, his grip tightening. Despite her wild resistance, he ominously added, "I won't take it all. I won't take it all."

Realization dawned upon her as she comprehended his sinister plan—transforming her into a vampire. The thought sent shivers down her spine. 'I will become like him,' she thought, her mind racing. The desperation in her plea was evident, 'No. Goddess, please, no…'

In that moment, he recoiled with a bellow, clutching his head in excruciating agony. Though she couldn't fathom the cause, she had no intention of staying to uncover the source of his suffering.

Attempting to slip past him, she was forcefully thrust against the wall. Disoriented, she observed him fumbling in the pocket of his jumpsuit, retrieving a bottle of pills. His trembling hands, crippled by pain, made it arduous for him to open the bottle.

Buffy's instinct kicked in, recognizing the bottle as a potential weapon. Swiftly, she lunged forward, seizing the bottle. Instantly, his fury erupted, uncontrollable. Clutching onto the bottle like a lifeline, she raced away, launching herself into the nearby laundry chute.

He pursued her relentlessly as she descended, momentarily recollecting the vampire she had effortlessly propelled down a slide in the playground. Yet, that victory had swiftly transformed into a perilous struggle for survival.

Fortunately, Kralik's large frame prevented him from squeezing into the chute. He howled with frustration, rage, and pain. Hitting the ground with an impact that made it difficult to regain her footing, Buffy knew she couldn't afford to ease her pace. Despite his frantic state, she was certain he would come after his pills. She had mere seconds to escape that hellish place.

"Buffy?" Phoebe's muffled voice reached her ears, drawing her attention. Buffy's heart pounded with a mix of relief and renewed determination. Her eyes locked onto Phoebe, who was bound to a chair, battered and bruised. The sight of her cousin's swollen eyes only fueled Buffy's rage, overshadowing any lingering fear that had plagued her moments ago.

In that instant, a transformation took hold within Buffy. Her trembling form became infused with an unwavering resolve. Bloodied, but fueled by an indomitable spirit, she stood ready to confront an army of vampires if it meant protecting her beloved cousins slash sisters.

Phoebe's voice rang out with determination. "Buffy, we have to get—"

Buffy put her fingers to her lips, signaling Phoebe to remain silent. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a weapon, and a plan began to take shape in her mind.

Before she could execute her plan, the basement door was violently blown off its hinges, propelled by Kralik's powerful strike. He descended the stairs in a disoriented state, his shrieks reverberating through the cellar as he frantically scanned the surroundings. Relief washed over his face when he spotted Phoebe still bound to the chair.

Seizing the opportunity, Buffy attempted to slip past him, but he swiftly intercepted her, forcefully slamming her against the wall. With a swift motion, he snatched the pills from her grasp and hastily consumed them, washing them down with a glass of water from a nearby stool. The relief on his face was palpable as his pain began to subside.

Turning his attention back to Buffy, he spoke with a mixture of condescension and frustration. "You don't seem to understand your place in all of this. Do you have any idea—" he taunted, only to be interrupted by a sudden, excruciating pain that gripped his abdomen. Bewildered, he held onto the glass and the empty pill bottle, staring at Buffy in disbelief.

"Oh, my," he uttered, his voice filled with realization. "What have you... my pills..."

Unfazed and eerily calm, Buffy held up a small, now empty container—an emptied vessel that had once held holy water.

Kralik's eyes widened in terror as he glanced down at his own body. Smoke rose from his stomach, the sizzling sound filling the room as his flesh corroded from within. Tremors wracked his entire frame as cracks spread across his skin.

Relishing in his impending defeat, Buffy couldn't resist a final quip. "If I were at full power, I'd be punning right about now," she remarked, her voice laced with a mixture of satisfaction and determination.

Then, with a explosion, Kralik was obliterated, leaving behind nothing but a swirling cloud of dust. Buffy maintained her stoic warrior gaze at the spot where her enemy had once stood, the magnitude of his annihilation sinking in.

Moments later, she dropped to Phoebe's side and urgently attempted to untie her restraints. Phoebe's relieved voice broke the silence as her gag was removed. "Buffy, thank God you're okay," she expressed, her eyes filled with gratitude.

Buffy's frustration was palpable as she confessed her difficulty in untying the knots. "I can't get these," she admitted, her voice tinged with disappointment. "They're too tight."

Sensing her cousin's distress, Phoebe suggested, "Fireball?"

"Not right now," Buffy replied, saving the explanation for later. "Maybe there are some clippers around here."

As she moved away in search of a tool, the other vampire—the one she had previously knocked out beneath the bookcase—lurked in the shadows, his anger evident on his face.

"Buffy!" Phoebe cried out, her voice filled with concern, just as Leo materialized in a shimmer of blue and white orbing lights, accompanied by Giles.

Reacting swiftly, the vampire launched himself at Buffy, only to be intercepted mid-air by Giles. The two combatants collided with great force, crashing into a nearby tool shelf. The vampire regained his footing first and turned his attention towards Giles, delivering a devastating punch that snapped the Watcher's jaw.

Rushing to Giles's aid, Buffy scanned the area for a weapon, but before she could find one, a stake unexpectedly jutted out from the vampire's back. It was Giles himself who had taken care of the threat.

With a burst of dust, the vampire disintegrated into nothingness. Meanwhile, Leo hastened to Phoebe's side, swiftly untying her from the chair.

Buffy locked eyes with Giles, a mix of emotions passing between them. He spoke earnestly, his voice carrying remorse. "I understand that it will take time to rebuild your trust," he acknowledged, rising to his feet. "For my part in this, I am truly sorry."

Buffy's gaze pierced Giles, her eyes reflecting a maelstrom of emotions swirling within her. Anger surged through her veins, fueled by the memory of her powers being forcibly bound. Yet, intertwined with that anger was a glimmer of gratitude, a recognition of Giles's genuine apology.

Conflicting emotions battled within her as she tried to reconcile her feelings. The anger burned brightly, simmering just beneath the surface, while a flicker of appreciation struggled to gain ground. It was a tumultuous mix of resentment and acknowledgment, a complex web of emotions that kept her torn between holding onto her anger and accepting the sincerity of Giles's apology.

Gateway High School

Buffy's stare intensified, her eyes ablaze with unbridled hostility, as Quentin uttered his words. The library became a tense battlefield, with Buffy, Prue, Piper, Leo, Phoebe, Giles, and the infuriating figure from England.

Kneeling before Buffy, Leo gently placed his hands over her wounds, his healing powers glowing with a golden light. The physical pain may have been easing, but the emotional wounds inflicted by the test were far from healed.

Quentin pressed on, undeterred by the hostile atmosphere. "Congratulations. You pass," he declared, trying to maintain a semblance of authority. "You exhibited extraordinary courage and clear headedness in battle. The Council is very pleased."

Prue's glare pierced through Quentin's facade. "Does she get a gold star?" she retorted with biting sarcasm, her tone laced with contempt.

Quentin, seemingly unfazed, attempted to pacify the enraged group. "I understand that you all are upset—"

"You understand nothing," Piper interjected sharply, her voice dripping with anger. "You set that monster loose, and he came after our sister."

Unable to comprehend the gravity of their fury, Quentin mustered a feeble question. "You think the test was unfair?"

The weight of Quentin's callousness hung in the air, leaving the Halliwells and Giles momentarily speechless. Buffy's voice cut through the tension, laced with danger and a chilling undertone. "I think you'd better leave town before I get my powers back. Or worse yet, before my sisters decide to forget their roles as protectors of the innocent and take matters into their own hands with you, actions they might deeply regret later."

Yet, Quentin remained stubbornly undeterred, either oblivious or unconcerned about the animosity directed towards him. "We're not in the business of 'fair,' Miss Halliwell. We're fighting a war," he coldly retorted, his tone devoid of empathy.

Giles, unable to hold his silence any longer, spoke up with firm conviction. "You're waging a war. They—the Charmed Ones and the Charmed Slayer—are the ones fighting it. There is a fundamental difference."

Quentin appeared mildly irritated by Giles's interruption. "Mr. Giles, if you don't mind—"

"The test is done. We're finished," Giles asserted, refusing to back down.

"Not quite," Quentin interjected, a smugness creeping into his demeanor. "She passed. You didn't."

Giles fell silent, and Buffy, Prue, Piper, and Phoebe exchanged bewildered glances, struggling to find the right words to express their disbelief.

Quentin pressed on, his tone condescending. "The Slayer isn't the only one who must perform in this situation. I have recommended to the Council, and they have agreed, that you be relieved of your duties as Watcher effectively immediately. You're fired."

Phoebe, determined to challenge his decision, spoke up. "On what grounds?"

"His affection for your 'sister' has rendered him incapable of clear and impartial judgment," Quentin responded dismissively, before redirecting his gaze at Giles. "You have a father's love for the child, and that is useless to the cause. It would be best if you had no further contact with the Slayer."

Leo's voice reverberated with authority as he stood up, the golden glow of his healing powers dissipating. "That is not happening," he declared, his protective instincts flaring. "You see, my daughter is not only a Slayer or a Whitelighter. She is also a witch. She is also Charmed."

Prue stepped forward, her eyes ablaze with determination. "And Rupert Giles is a valuable resource to the Charmed Ones," she asserted, her words carrying the weight of unity. "When I say the Charmed Ones, I mean all four of us. You see, Piper, Phoebe, and I don't see Buffy as anything other than a Charmed One, even if it may not be recognized technically. I highly suggest you do as my sister instructed and leave town."

Quentin's expression hardened, but he realized the strength of the united front before him. Reluctantly, he acquiesced. "Very well, but Mr. Giles, if you interfere with the new Watcher or undermine his authority in any way, there will be consequences. Are we clear?"

Prue, not one to back down, stepped forward, her eyes locked with Quentin's. "And if your new Watcher challenges my authority as not only Buffy's legal guardian but also as a Charmed One, I will ensure he is swiftly sent back to England, and we will sever all ties with the Watcher's Council."

Quentin's glare intensified, but he was aware that further confrontation would be futile. He turned his attention to Buffy and offered a cold, "Congratulations, again."

Buffy, refusing to back down, raised her chin defiantly. "Bite me," she retorted with a mixture of defiance and defiance.

With a final disdainful glance at Prue and Giles, Quentin exited the room, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence that enveloped the space. Giles, Prue, Piper, Leo, Phoebe, and Buffy remained in a tableau of unspoken emotions, their unyielding bond as a family and protectors of the innocent echoing in the air.

Leo's voice carried a mixture of compassion and understanding as he knelt before his daughter, his eyes filled with empathy. "Buffy, I had a conversation with the Elders," he began, his voice gentle yet firm. "They shed light on the situation regarding the Powers that Be and their perspective on the Slayer. The Powers that Be insisted on this test proceeding, and if we resisted, they would have permanently stripped you of your Slayer powers. The Elders, knowing the importance of each of your powers in fulfilling your destiny, had to make a difficult decision. They chose to allow the test to proceed."

Buffy listened intently, her emotions conflicted and her gaze fixed on her father. She could sense the weight of the Elders' deliberation in Leo's words, understanding the gravity of the choices they had to make for the sake of her destiny.

Leo continued, his voice unwavering in its sincerity. "I know it's hard to accept, Buffy, and it feels unfair. But the Elders believe in your strength and resilience. They believe that you can overcome this challenge and emerge stronger than ever. They made this decision with your best interests in mind, as difficult as it may be to comprehend right now."

Buffy took a deep breath, the realization of the Elders' sacrifice and trust sinking in. She couldn't deny the conflicting emotions swirling within her, but she also recognized the unwavering support and love from her father, Prue, Piper and Phoebe. She briefly glanced at Giles and she could almost sense the unwavering support and love he to offered despite his part in everything.

Leo reached out, placing a comforting hand on Buffy's shoulder. "You are not alone in this, Buffy. We are here for you, every step of the way. You have faced countless trials and emerged victorious. I have faith in your ability to navigate through this test and come out stronger. Remember, you are not defined solely by your powers, but by the strength of your character and the love that surrounds you."

"Leo's right," Prue agreed as she knelt next to the Whitelighter. "Piper, Phoebe and I are here for you. You are never, ever alone."

The gravity of Prue's words struck Buffy deeply, her eyes welling up with tears. It was a powerful affirmation that echoed through her being, providing strength and comfort in the face of uncertainty. The bond between the Halliwell sisters was unbreakable, a force to be reckoned with.

Piper and Phoebe, sensing the gravity of the moment, moved closer to join their sister and Leo. Their presence was a tangible display of solidarity, their unwavering devotion radiating from their very essence.

Giles rested a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "I'm sorry for my part in everything," he said as he knelt down next to Buffy's family. "Sincerely, Buffy. I know it will take time to rebuild your trust in me. But I am here for you."

The weight of Giles' hand on her shoulder brought a sense of solace and understanding. Buffy looked into his eyes, seeing the remorse and sincerity reflected within them. The depth of his apology was evident in his gentle tone and the way he knelt beside her and her family, seeking forgiveness.

In that moment, Buffy felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude. Her tear-streaked face transformed into a determined expression, her resolve rekindled by the unwavering support surrounding her. She squeezed her father's hand and reached out to hold Prue's and Piper, Phoebe and Giles, forming a tight circle of strength.

"Thank you," Buffy whispered, her voice filled with heartfelt gratitude.

January 21, 1999 – Wednesday

Halliwell Manor

Oz, Xander, and Willow continued their peanut butter sandwich-making escapade, their hands coated in the sticky spread as they worked. Piper, ever the bustling hostess, moved around the kitchen with purpose, ensuring that everything was in order for their meal.

Willow couldn't help but voice her disbelief, her tone filled with incredulity. "I still can't wrap my head around the fact that Giles was actually fired. It just doesn't make sense."

Oz, ever the laid-back one, changed the topic to something less serious. "So, Buffy, how did you manage to take down Kralik?"

"Oh, she was very clever," Phoebe chimed in, trying to take credit but quickly realizing it was Buffy's story to tell. She adjusted her position at the table, making space for her cousin. "You go ahead and tell it, Buffy. You tell it better."

Willow, however, couldn't let go of the idea of Giles being fired. She persisted with her line of questioning, seeking clarification. "Now, when you say fired, you mean fired?"

Xander, displaying his usual wit, cast a sidelong glance at Willow, silently indicating that she was dwelling on the subject. "You're really fixated on this, aren't you?"

Willow remained undeterred. "It's just, I mean, he's been fired! He's unemployed! He's between jobs!"

As the conversation continued, Piper, realizing they needed more peanut butter, hurried off to the pantry to retrieve another jar. Prue stepped in, offering reassurance to Willow. "Rupert isn't going anywhere, Willow. He's still the librarian. Besides the Charmed Ones still can use his knowledge. He will still be helping us whether the Watcher's Council wants him to or not."

Willow grumbled, still discontented. "Okay, well I might write an angry letter anyways."

Buffy interjected, bringing the focus back to the present moment. "Guys, nothing is really going to change. The important thing is, I kept up my special birthday tradition of gut-wrenching misery and horror."

Oz nodded in agreement, offering his unique perspective. "Bright side to everything."

With Piper's return, bearing the fresh jar of peanut butter, Buffy eagerly reached for it, eager to enjoy a sandwich. However, her attempt to open the jar proved futile, and a mild frown creased her forehead. She sighed, expressing her frustration. "I'll feel much better when I get my powers back."

Xander, ever the playful joker, couldn't resist the opportunity to tease Buffy. He flashed a superior grin and extended his hand, offering to help. "Give you a hand with that, little lady?"

Buffy playfully glared at him, shooting eye-daggers along with the jar. Piper, amused by their banter, chimed in with a dry remark. "You're really enjoying this a bit too much, Xander."

Taking the jar from Buffy, Xander grinned mischievously. "Come on, admit it. Sometimes you just need a big, strong man to handle things." He attempted to open the jar, but to his surprise, it proved to be a challenge. He strained, his smile slowly turning sheepish. "Uh, Will? Could you lend me a hand here?"

January 24, 1999 – Saturday

Long Beach Convention & Entertainment Center, Los Angeles

Giles and Buffy stood in line together, the queue stretching for what seemed like a mile. It was an arrangement meticulously planned by Giles and Leo to take Buffy to the ice show that her step-father had canceled on. Giles saw this as the first step in rebuilding the trust between them, a chance to reconnect through an activity she loved.

As they waited, Giles couldn't help but reflect on the past two years, regretting that he hadn't spent more quality time with Buffy, just enjoying each other's company. He understood the typical teenage desire for independence, but now he longed for those moments of togetherness. He had even splurged on a program and some skating memorabilia, wanting to make the outing special. Together, they weaved their way through the bustling entrance, dodging excited children in vibrant skirts, their laughter filling the air.

Seeing the young skaters, their innocence and carefree spirits, stirred a bittersweet ache in Giles's heart. He knew that Buffy had once possessed that lightness and joy. His hope now was to bring a semblance of normalcy back into her life, if only for one night.

Buffy's excitement bubbled over as they settled into their seats, her eyes wide with wonder. "This is so cool!"

Giles nodded, appreciating her enthusiasm. As she pointed out various skaters, he tried his best to keep up, but the intricacies of the sport eluded him after a mere few minutes.

Then, Buffy's attention focused on a particular skater, her voice filled with fondness as she shared a personal memory. "Oh, I remember seeing her the last time I was here," she said, pointing. "She was one of my favorites. She had this really difficult spin that was like a signature of her routine and one year she slipped really badly. I was about six or seven, and I remember sitting there, gripping the edge of my seat, holding my breath, and then…she got back up. She finished her entire routine and then had to take some time off afterwards, but I remember thinking how amazing that was, to see someone get back up after falling down, in public, even though it probably really hurt."

Giles couldn't help but smile, his heart swelling with pride. "That reminds me of someone I know," he said softly.

Buffy shook her head, trying to hide her pleasure, but the telltale blush on her cheeks betrayed her. In that moment, Giles felt a glimmer of hope, a sense that their bond was being rekindled.

As the lights dimmed and the skaters took to the ice, a sense of tranquility settled over the arena. The graceful movements and dazzling performances on the ice mesmerized Buffy, momentarily whisking her away from the weight of her responsibilities. She watched in awe as the skaters glided effortlessly, their artistry a testament to perseverance and determination.

Giles watched Buffy, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions. He had seen her face unimaginable hardships and carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. But in this moment, he wanted her to experience the joy and wonder that life had to offer.

Throughout the show, Buffy occasionally leaned closer to Giles, sharing her observations and excitement. They laughed together, their spirits lifting in the presence of each other's company. It was a reminder of the bond they had forged over the previous two years, the trust that had been shaken but was slowly finding its way back.

As the final performance came to an end and the applause filled the air, Buffy turned to Giles, a soft glow in her eyes. "Thank you, Giles," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth. "This meant more to me than you'll ever know."

Giles smiled, his own gratitude shining through. "I'm glad I could be here with you, Buffy," he replied, his voice tinged with sincerity. "And remember, no matter what happens, I will always be here for you."