"An entrance to the hell dimensions. There's a lot of - energy of a kind - around them. They tend to attract problems."

He nods.  "So a place that tends to need a Slayer.  Gotcha.  I'll send it up the chain of command.  - Uh, just for my own peace of mind, could I see a quick demonstration of the sand thing."

"Alright." Her skin goes sandy, and starts peeling off and running down in rivulets - then flows back in, and she's back to normal.

"Thanks.  Did you want to meet the librarian?  He's the leader of Nausicaa's miniature conspiracy thing, and I'm pretty sure he knows about you."

"The Watchers' Council don't have a good reputation."

"Oh hell."  He runs his fingers through his hair.  "Bad how?  Should we be trying to get Nausicaa out?"

"I don't know much about how they'll treat her. But they're unkind to us, and I've heard of demons killed by Slayers who almost certainly weren't doing anything harmful."

He sighs.  "It's possible Giles is," he throws up his arms in an exaggerated shrug, "one of the good ones, I guess.  But I'll keep an eye on him, and on her.  Do you know anywhere we could go to get more of the other side of the story?"

"No. My sister might know, but... I'm not popular."

Yeah let's not poke that.  "All right.  Thanks for the warning.  I gotta get home."

"Alright. Goodbye."

Nothing catches fire and explodes between then and the Tuesday that Nausicaa and company are scheduled to meet with Giles again.

Nausicaa's more than a bit nervous sitting in the library waiting for Kaylee's family to get there for the parent-librarian-slash-secret-agent-dude conference

"They should be here any minute," says Kaylee, not for the first time that afternoon.

Tag is impassive.

There's a knock on the library door.

"That will be them," Giles says.  "Let me."

He gets the door and ushers Kaylee's parents inside.

"Hello, Nausicaa!" her mom says when she sees her.  "Kaylee didn't tell us you'd been invited as well.  Good to see you."

"Good to see you two, Mister and Misses Whitlock!"

Her mom holds up one hand.  "Helena, please," she says, smiling.  "And my husband's name is Rob.  We never introduced ourselves properly, did we?  I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine, really! Oh - this's our friend Tag, he's a grouch but I'm pretty sure there's a melty core under all that."

Helena laughs merrily.  "It's nice to meet you, Tag."

Tag nods politely.

"So!" says Rob.  "Career counseling."

"Ah, yes, well," Mr. Giles says.

He takes a breath, composing himself.  "I'm afraid, Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock, that I've brought you here under false pretenses.  Your daughter was afraid you wouldn't believe what I had to tell you unless I could show you firsthand."