“Dad!” a young woman yelled frantically from an upstairs bedroom, “Where’s the fire extinguisher?”

Giles heaved a heavy sigh, finished the paragraph he was reading, calmly laid his book on the coffee table, went into the kitchen, retrieved the fire extinguisher, ascended the stairs, walked down the hall to his daughter’s room, and opened the door.

The scene inside would have sent chills down the spine of any normal father, but Giles was no normal father. The room itself was basically normal. Brightly colored shoes and clothes cluttered the floor. The bed was covered in a bright hand made patchwork quilt, and sunflower curtains shaded the windows. There was a stereo system sitting on one windowsill, and a state of the art computer decorated with stickers and decals sitting on the desk. The walls were covered in posters of modern music groups and Andy Warhol prints. It was the typical room of a teenaged girl that is, except for the altar.

The altar was a small solid oak table covered with candles and trinkets. It was also on fire. 

Giles casually raised the extinguisher sprayed a few times and lowered it. He looked warily into the face of his daughter.

“Emmy dear, what were you trying to do this time?” he asked wearily. Emmy looked down at her feet.

“Well, I found this spell to turn fire into ice and. . .” she trailed off. Giles couldn’t help but smile.

“At least you didn’t try it on the bed spread.” Emmy looked confused.

“Why would I do that?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t, I’m sure. Sometimes you just remind me too much of your mother at your age.” Pain flickered over his eyes as it always did when he discussed her mother. Her dad didn’t speak of her mother very often, and when he did, it was always casual comments such as this. “She would come into the library at least one day a week,” Giles continued much to his daughter’s surprise, “and tell me of some sort of disaster she had caused at home and had to explain to her parents.” He winced at the happy memory of Willow’s innocent youth. “I’m going to save the lecture on practicing magic without supervision. I suspect you have it memorized by now.”

“That’s the truth,” Emmy mumbled under breath.

“Be sure to clean up the mess and we’ll discuss re-sanctifying the alter later.” He shook his head slowly and left. <Never a dull moment with that one. So like her mother.>

Emmy’s heart jumped every time her dad said she was like her mother. She wished she could remember her. Her mother had died when she was only two years old. No one talked about it much, just that there was a terrible accident and both her mother and her mother’s best friend were killed. Emmy knew it was a good thing her parents had married a few months after she was born. Otherwise Emmy wouldn’t have anyone to take care of her and love her.

Her dad had explained to Emmy before she started grammer school that he was not her biological father, but it didn’t mean that he loved her any less. Emmy accepted this as a fact of life and didn’t think much about the who had sired her. She had asked her dad about him a few years ago and he had explained that her father had been a good friend of her mother’s fist love, but nothing else. It struck Emmy as odd her biological father was not her mother’s first love but his friend. She was fairly certain there was a story in there somewhere, but Emmy knew not to push her dad for information. He would tell her when she was ready.

Emmy did know some things about her mother. She was beautiful. Emmy had seen the pictures of her, with her long bright red hair and shining green eyes. People in Sunnydale who knew her mom would often say she looked like her, but Emmy really didn’t see it. Emmy’s hair was more auburn and her eyes hazel. Their faces were similar, but Emmy knew she would never be as beautiful as her mom.

Her mother was amazingly smart and was studying to get her Ph.D., when she died. Her dad had said she planned to work with people suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Her mother was also something of a wizard with computers. Emmy had begged for a new computer for almost a year before she opened the package on the last day of Hanukkah last year. The card was signed, “From your mother.” Her dad had explained to her that Mom would have rolled over in her grave if she had known Emmy was still using her old one. Her dad was in a particularly talkative mood that day and told her about how her mother could hack into private computer systems. Emmy was dutifully impressed.

She also knew that her mother was a witch, and from what little her dad had said, a pretty powerful one. Emmy saw this as the biggest thing she inherited from her mother, as well as the most important. Emmy wanted to become as powerful a witch as her mother had been, but Dad didn’t seem to keen on the idea.

He would go on and on about how dangerous it was and how some powers weren’t meant to be trifled with, and then he would clam up. After Emmy made it obvious she was not going to give it up, her dad began with some rudimentary instruction, but he was going far too slow for Emmy’s tastes.

The most valuable resource Emmy had for information on her mother was by far her Uncle Xander. He would sit with her for hours showing her pictures of the two of them when they were little, and telling her stories of silly things her mother, their best friend, Buffy, (“What a silly name,” she would always comment and Xander would laugh) and he did in high school or college. Emmy loved their talks, but she had a feeling Uncle Xander was hiding things from her, too. Every time Emmy would ask questions about her mother’s death or spells her mother had performed, he would change the subject or announce he was taking her, Aunt Anya and the boys out for ice-cream.

Emmy was certain he knew more than he was saying. They were trying to hide something from her, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she found out.

Emmy turned to the mess where her alter had been and began to clean up. After she removed all the soot and ash, she journeyed down to the basement to return the book from the box she found it in. She opened the box to return it, when she noticed the other things it contained: her mother’s senior high school year book and old photo albums.

Emmy gingerly lifted the book from the box and started to leaf through the yellowed pages. The only picture of her mom was her formal photo. She turned to the last page which was covered in writing. Uncle Xander had signed it, explaining how glad he was that they were still friends after everything that had happened <??> and how much he valued her friendship. Buffy had signed it, stating that she could have never faced all the evil without her. <What the hell is that supposed to mean> Emmy thought. Some guy named Percy, thanked her mom for all of her help in history, and a girl named Harmony told her to “Have a Nice Summer.” A girl named Cordy had written, “It hasn’t exactly been fun, but it’s over.” <OK, whatever.> Then her eyes fell on an entry signed by someone named Oz. Emmy knew her mom’s first love’s name had been Oz, he was a friend of Uncle Xan’s too, so she zeroed in to read:

“You are my love, my life and my muse. You proved to me there is such a thing as unconditional love. I thank you for it and I love you for it, too. You bring out the best in me. You are my nation. Yours always, OZ”

<Wow> Emmy thought. <They must have been pretty intense.> Emmy flipped forward to the senior pictures to find him. The closest thing she could find to an ‘Oz’ was a guy named Daniel Osbourne, so she figured it had to be him. He was cute. Uncle Xander had told her at one point that Oz was a musician. <I wonder why they broke up. He seems cool, and he obviously loved her.>

This was the problem Emmy always ran into when she learned things about her mother. Every answer seemed to lead to ten more questions.

Emmy then started to leaf through the pictures. She found one of her Mom, Uncle Xan and Buffy all piled on top of table in the library with her Dad looking down on them disapprovingly. Emmy always forgot how much older her dad was than her mom. She also thought that it was *really weird* her mother had been one of her dad’s students. She knew that her mother was in college before they got together, but she could just imagine her dad’s reaction if she came home from school and announced she was dating the librarian. Of course, considering the librarian was a middle-aged woman, this was probably not going to happen any day soon. Then she found a picture of her mom and Daniel Osbourne cuddled in what looked like a cage with books in it. They were looking into each other’s eyes completely entranced. <So, this is him. Gosh, they really did love each other.>

Emmy replaced the contents of the box and headed upstairs and into the living room. Her dad was reading on the couch, as always, probably studying up on his next book on demonology. Emmy crawled into his lap. Giles put down the book and hugged his little girl.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Giles hugged her harder. 

“I know you are, sweetheart. I just worry about you. We’ll do a proper lesson this weekend, OK?” Emmy immediately brightened.

“Thanks, Dad.” Giles expected her to jump up and start looking through her books to pick a spell, but she didn’t. She only snuggled deeper and laid her head on his chest. Giles was about to question her, but stopped. <Don’t be a fool, old man> he scolded himself <soon she’ll be too old to snuggle with her father. Enjoy it while you can.> He stroked her hair gently. <She is so like her mother. The same hair, face, and fragile small body. Even the same amazing power.> Many times Giles had wished Willow hadn’t given her daughter the gift of magic, but he knew there was no denying it. Willow’s daughter was as powerful as witch as Willow had once been. <But> Giles swore to himself <Emmy will not suffer the same fate.>

As these thoughts drifted through Giles’ mind, his arms tightened around his daughter. Curiously, she looked up from his chest to see tears filling his eyes.

“Daddy?”

Giles cleared his throat, “Yes, dear.”

“Tell me about my mother.” Giles was silent. “Come on Dad, I can tell you’re thinking about her. Why won’t you just tell me?” Emmy laid her head back on her dad’s chest. Giles sighed. His daughter saw so much he didn’t mean her to see. He wanted Emmy to know Willow, but it hurt so much to talk about her.

“What do you want to know?” Emmy jumped with surprise.

“REALLY!?!?!”

Giles smiled. “Yes, really.”

Emmy thought for a moment. “Everything, I guess.” Giles chuckled.

“There’s a lot to tell.”

“Then why don’t you start from the beginning.”

“I’ll try.” He paused for several moments. “When I met your mother she was your age. She was quiet and shy, like you, and loved by everyone, like you. And she had no idea how wonderful she really was, just like you.” He tweaked his daughter’s nose and she flushed. “Willow was quiet and when she spoke, she had a tendency to babble. She had a real sense of what was important in life, even at her young age, and she was fiercely loyal to her friends.” Giles fell silent for a time. “Willow met Buffy that same year. She, Xander and Buffy were inseparable. What a trio they made. All three of them in infatuated with someone they couldn’t have. Xander with Buffy, Buffy with Angel and Willow with Xander--”

“Mom was in love with Uncle Xander?!” exclaimed Emmy.

“Infatuated, dear, not in love. Although at the time she was convinced it was love.”

“Uncle Xander never told me that!”

“Oh, didn’t he. Well, Xander was always a bit fuzzy on the details. No, I don’t think Willow was ever in love with Xander. It took Oz for that to happen.” Emmy expected her dad to have some sort of anger or at least dislike in his voice when he spoke of Oz, but there was only sorrow.

“The four of them together were unstoppable, even to me. I tried to control them, but I should have known better. They all had minds of their own, whether they used them or not is a whole different kettle of fish.” Again Giles was silent. It was as if he was trying to work up the courage and strength to continue. Emmy wanted to prod him on, but knew better than that. Instead she snuggled closer to her dad, trying to give him the strength to continue.

“They all loved each other fiercely. They would have laid down their lives for one another.”

“Did Mom and Oz really love one another?” she asked.

“Oh yes, very much,” her dad replied with no hesitation. “I have seldom seen two young people as much in love as Oz and your mother.” Emmy was confused at this.

“But, then why did they break up?” she asked. Giles struggled with this.

“They didn’t, not really. Oz had to leave to resolve some. . .some. . .some family issues, but he was killed.”

“He died!” Uncle Xander hadn’t mentioned this.

“Yes. Willow was in her first year at university. For a while I didn’t think she would pull herself from the dark shadow his death had left in her life. If it wasn’t for Xander and Buffy, I don’t think she would have. All three leaned on each other for support and comfort and reminded each other what life was really about. I don’t think I have ever seen three closer friends.” Emmy wished she had friends like that.

A thousand questions swam through her mind. <How did Oz die? Did Mom and Uncle Xan ever date? Who this Angel guy? Why was their high school librarian still hanging out with them when her mom and Buffy were in college? Why did they hang out with the librarian in high school anyway? Did Mom ever get over Oz?>

“I found a picture of Mom and Oz in a box in the basement,” Emmy confessed. “Why aren’t there any pictures of you and mom? Even wedding pictures.” Emmy seemed genuinely hurt by this lack in her life. Seeing this Giles cursed himself. He had tried so hard to protect himself from the pain that he had denied his daughter.

Slowly, he untangled himself from her and went upstairs. Emmy thought he had gone into his room to be alone, but after a few moments he came back down holding a cedar box about the size of a shoebox. He handed it to her.

“Open it.” Emmy looked at her father, then the box and back at her father again. Emmy settled herself on the couch, tucked a stray hair behind her ear and opened it. Emmy gasped when she saw the contents. Inside were dozens of pictures of her mom and dad. One was of her dad standing behind her mom with his hands wrapped around her *very* pregnant belly.

“Buffy took that just a few weeks before you were born.”

She gingerly replaced it and picked up another. This one showed her mother in a white crocheted dress holding a bouquet. Dad once again had his arms around her. He was dressed in a smart black suit. The picture under it was the same pose, except instead of a bouquet she was holding a small baby with bright red hair. Emmy recognized herself from her other baby pictures.

“That was our wedding day.”

Another was of the three of them at the park on the merry-go-round. Her Mom was holding her with their matching hair flowing behind them, while her dad did the spinning. They all had huge smiles on their faces. Emmy had never seen a picture of herself at this age.

“Dad, how old am I in this picture?” she asked.

“Almost two and half. It was a week before. . .before. . .It’s late, you should go to bed, Emmy. Take the pictures with you.” Her dad turned his back to her and faced the wall. Emmy rose and put her arms around him from behind.

“I love you, Dad.” He patted her hand, but didn’t respond. Emmy released herself from him and ran quietly up the stairs and into her room. She jumped into bed and spread all of the pictures out on the quilt. <We really were a family.> she thought to herself <Even if it wasn’t for very long.> Tears filled her eyes. All three were smiling in every picture. It was like looking on pure happiness. Emmy had never seen her father smile like that. Her mother’s death had obviously robbed that light from his eyes. It was so unfair. Her dad needed a wife and she needed a mother. <Sometimes life sucks.> Emmy finally let go and cried. She fell asleep curled up on the end of her bed still looking at her family.

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