A/N:

Two years have passed since Sunnydale was destroyed, and the Scoobies are still reeling from the changes in their lives. What are their thoughts, concerns, and feelings in this transformed world? Read on, my dear reader, and you shall see. In-depth character study of Buffy, her friends, and many of her new recruits.

Warnings: Spoilers for Buffy Seasons 1-7 and Season 8 up to at least Wolves at the Gate. Strong language, angst, violence, character death, femmeslash, and possibly more later on. If any of that bothers you or offends you in any way, please don't read any further.

Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights associated with Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Season 8 comic books and am writing this on a non-commercial basis, for my own benefit and that of anyone who wants to read my work.

Now, without further ado,

A New Beginning

Based on A Long Way Home by Joss Whedon and Georges Jeanty

Chapter 1: Perspectives

·:: Somewhere in Scotland ::·

She chose me! Satsu smiles to herself. The months of training have paid off, and she's finally got a chance to prove herself on an actual mission! One of the surveillance satellites picked up some demonic activity near the base in Scotland, and Satsu has been assigned to the squad of four Slayers sent to investigate.

"This base is supposed to be Secret. That's secret with a capital 'S'," the mission commander had proclaimed at the briefing an hour or so earlier, "and that means no one – especially not demons – gets to know where we are."

The mission is strictly recon ("Get in, find out what's what, get out undetected, no heroics," Xander had reminded them moments before they had boarded the matte black stealth helicopter in which they are now seated). Satsu's job is simple – she has a streaming webcam strapped to her head and is there strictly on a journalistic basis – but knowing the commander, the famous Buffy Summers herself, Satsu might end up seeing some action, and, grinning to herself, she hopes that she will.

Satsu looks up from her black boots – the ones with the pink eyestalks (to hell with dress code; at least it got her noticed) – and steals a glance at her commander.

Short blonde hair – tied back in a ponytail for the same reason Satsu has started putting braids in her own hair: to keep it out of her way during engagements – frames a face that might have been called beautiful once, though no one – certainly not Satsu! – would ever make the mistake of telling her that. It is a hard face, with a small, sharp nose, and eyes (Satsu has never been able to decide what color they are, but they glint like amber in the cold light from the snowstorm outside) that have seen more battles than anyone can reasonably expect to survive in a lifetime, and Buffy – as she is quick to remind her recruits when they're acting recklessly – is on her third. Nevertheless, her skin is almost flawless, a side-effect of the Slayer healing abilities all the Potentials received two years ago, when Willow's spell made Satsu – along with over eighteen hundred other women across the globe – special, powerful.

Satsu's eyes drift downwards. Buffy is the only one in the small 'copter who's not wearing a breastplate – Kevlar plates reinforced with magic by the mystics in Willow's spellcasting division – and Satsu, thinking shamefully about the many dents and scratches in her own armor, acquired over the course of combat training, is awed by her abilities as a warrior. Does Buffy ever lie awake at night, the bruises still fresh on her soft pale skin, aching no matter how she turns?

Buffy is wearing a sleeveless red shirt with some sort of circular golden emblem Satsu can't make out from where she's sitting. She wonders how many scars that shirt is concealing, souvenirs from blows that even Slayer healing couldn't seal without a trace. She turns away quickly, hoping that Leah and Rowena, the other recruits in the squad, can't see her cheeks turning red at the thought of a shirtless Buffy. She should be thinking about the mission, like Buffy is doubtlessly doing at the moment.

·~:~·

Buffy looks up as the newest recruit turns away nervously. Buffy gives her a reassuring smile. What's her name again? Oh, 'Satsu.' Things used to be a lot easier. A few years ago, she knew – well, with the exception of Angel – who her foes and allies were. She used to have to face the problems of a small town. Now, remembering the names of the people in her army is the least of her worries.

The thing about changing the world, she thinks wistfully, once you do it, the world's all different.

The pilot, probably one of Xander's crew, interrupts her thoughts over the intercom: they've arrived.

By the time Buffy slides open the door, the young women have all tightened their harnesses and hooked them to the metal rings in the doorframe with the same kind of long cords used for Search and Rescue operations. This isn't a Search and Rescue mission.

·~:~·

Satsu isn't prepared for the onslaught of frigid air that suddenly rushes into the vehicle, and she is forced to take a step back to avoid falling over. Now that the sound-proofing has been interrupted, the drone of the roaring rotors almost drowns out Buffy's voice as she calls out to them to jump. She holds up the fingers on her gloved right hand, counting down.

"Three!...Two!...One!"

The four slayers leap forwards in practiced unison, Satsu remembering to hold onto her cat-eared hat (so what if she's a Slayer? Pink can still be her favorite color!) with one hand at the last minute. She can feel the wind whip her hair back and burn her skin, and her nostrils feel like they're filling her lungs with liquid fire, and her lips are chapped within moments, and her eyes are streaming from the cold and the rushing wind, and her ears are roaring, but she doesn't care because she's a falcon diving towards its prey, claws outstretched, and Buffy is an avenging angel gliding like she was born to soar through the sky, and she is raising the pulse rifle in her hands, firing bolts of crackling blue energy towards the ground. Satsu is confused for a moment, and then notices that there's a strange shimmering in the air around the ruins of the abandoned church they're dropping towards. So much for recon! Satsu thinks happily as the projectiles strike the barrier with a sound like cannonballs shattering against the walls of a medieval fortress.

Then she's falling toward one of the holes her commander blasted in the energy field. She is suddenly jerked back violently as the line stretches taut, almost losing her grip on her hat. She quickly grabs the cord with both hands as she's been taught, then reaches down to unclip it from her harness. Remembering to keep her hat safe this time, she watches as the others drop onto the roof. She lets go last, after Leah (Satsu's job as Journalist is to document what the others are doing), bracing her knees to absorb the impact of the fifteen-foot drop, and winces when imitating Buffy's light landing doesn't quite go as planned.

·~:~·

Everyone calls me "ma'am" these days. When Buffy springs from the helicopter, she is still contemplating everything that has changed since Spike's sacrifice destroyed Sunnydale, the place she had defended for more than seven years of her life.

Then the cold hits and Buffy has to force herself not to cry out as the harsh wind rips through her shirt like it doesn't exist, and she feels like her breasts are going to freeze off, and the snow blazing past her bare arms and face is a rain of daggers, each like Faith's, and they're cutting, slashing, biting into her skin, and shit, she knows this is what Warren felt when Willow's dark magic flayed him alive.

I definitely should have worn one of those breastplates, she thinks, mentally cursing herself for showing off to the recruits, for having to prove to them, no, to herself, that even though she's not the only Slayer anymore, even though her team has found eighteen hundred new Slayers, five hundred of whom are working for her and the Scooby gang, she is still special, still the leader. Yet she knows, feeling a sinking feeling deep in her stomach that has nothing to do with leaping from an airborne helicopter hundreds of feet above the ground, that she's not special, that in a few years, recruits like Leah, Rowena, and Satsu will be just as experienced as she is.

Her mind is pulled back to the present and the mission by a strange iridescent shimmer in the air. It looks like some kid blew a soap bubble, kept blowing until it was the size of a small mountain, and then put a really old church inside it. The bubble's curvature acts to distort its contents, making the church bulge in a way that reminds her of the house of mirrors at the carnival her father took her to when she was eight, back when her parents were still speaking to one another, and by the time she's blasted through the shield and landed on the roof (she's heard reports of a similar defense system being employed near a demon nest one of Andrew's squads raided in Italy), she is back to worrying about her future relevance in the world she helped to save, the world she helped to create. There are already two other Slayers set up to be her, as decoys; one underground, literally, the other in Rome partying very publicly – and supposedly dating some guy called "the immortal" – Andrew thought it would be hilarious for some reason.

Here at command central, not so much with the hilarious, she muses, peering into the building through the boarded-up door she dimly recalls asking Leah to pry open a moment ago. She wrinkles her nose at the acrid stench wafting through the opening. No, at command central, it's more with the "What the hell am I doing?", she thinks even as one of the recruits – Leah, she registers in the corner of her mind – echoes her thoughts. Buffy needs to take out her frustration somehow, and at least there's one thing that hasn't changed: she's still got her demons. She smiles, grimly, and rushes into the building.

·~:~·

"Field's vaped and we're on the roof," Satsu hears Buffy report into her headset as soon as they've landed. She sounds commanding, in charge of the situation. Satsu admires the confidence in her voice.

"Access should be right in front of you," Xander's voice responds via the earpiece Satsu is wearing. All the Slayers have one, but Satsu's heard rumors that they're going to be replaced with telepathic communication as soon as the mystics are experienced enough. The thought of having a disembodied voice speaking in her head makes her shiver uncomfortably. She raises her left hand to steady the camera, then turns so that it is aimed at the access Xander mentioned. It's a door in the side of a tower and has been boarded up inexpertly.

Buffy's talking again. "Leah, open her up." Leah makes quick work of the wooden slats blocking the entrance. Satsu is pretty sure that she doesn't need to resort to her Slayer strength; some of the boards are so old that they seem to crumble at the slightest touch.

Buffy moves closer to get a look inside; Satsu follows her, aiming the camera into the murky darkness. "Can't see a thing, ma'am," she tells her leader. She raises her right hand to her mouth to chew on her nails nervously, then remembers that she's wearing gloves and that she's safe as long as Buffy's around. This feels like a trap.

"Can smell a thing, though," Buffy says, and a sudden gust of wind lends credence to her words, filling Satsu's nostrils with a stench that reminds her of the time she accidentally left sushi in her room for three weeks while she and her parents were on vacation. Her eyes start watering and she has to force herself not to look away – she doesn't want to miss anything. Be alert at all times, she reminds herself, repeating the mantra that her martial arts instructors back in Japan drilled into her head and that her new teachers – Buffy prominent among them – have also adopted.

Suddenly, even before Leah has finished clearing away all of the boards blocking the doorway, Buffy vaults inside, hurtling down what Satsu suspects to be a spiral staircase.

"What th' hell is she doing?" Leah cries out in bewilderment. She's the boss, Satsu says to herself, wordlessly beckoning Leah to follow her as she carefully steps over the remaining planks and begins to descend into the darkness. Shaking her head, Leah accompanies her, leaving Rowena behind to guard the roof, muttering something about not getting trapped between two groups of enemies.

·:: Scotland Command Center ::·

I used to be in construction. Xander is tired. He's been working for over 38 hours without even a moment's respite, and it's starting to show – in the way his lone eye keeps trying to droop shut and the ounce of extra concentration he needs to prevent his words from coming out slurred.

"You're five-by-five, Buf." Oh God, he must really be tired – he's starting to sound like Faith. "Satellite has them," he takes a moment to glance at the touchscreen monitor in front of him, "clustered by the altar and our psychics read them as unaware. Soon as Rowena's placed, we're go." He almost forgets to make sure he's talking on Buffy's private frequency – he wouldn't want to spoil the training exercise he and Buffy have set up for Leah and Satsu.

Damn, he's tired. The pay was good, back when he was in the business of building houses rather than – more often than not – tearing them down. Hours were better than this, he thinks, briefly raising one of his hands to his eye, as if, by rubbing it, he can make his lethargy disappear, then returns it to his back, clasping the other firmly (he's convinced that the posture makes him look more like a commander). They even ended occasionally.

But when duty calls, you don't exactly get to screen. Renee, a young Slayer sitting at one of the many high-end terminals arranged along the sides of the room, interrupts his thoughts.

"Mister Harris," the black-haired woman calls out urgently, "We've got a development with the Barcelona squad." Xander pivots sharply on one heel and strides off the dais in the center of the room to walk towards her. He admires the way that the light from the monitor plays against her olive skin. "Vamp nest looks a lot bigger than they thought," Renee is saying.

Shit. "How many in the squad?"

"Seven. Donna's running them, but they're pretty green."

Xander considers this for a moment. Time to send backup, he decides, finally.

"Andrew's still working Southern Italy – tell him to send his ten best, hop over," he replies.

"Roger that."

Xander smiles inwardly, relishing the feeling of being in command. Back in the old days, he never had much influence over the other members in the Scooby gang. Maybe if he'd been in charge, then Anya – he feels the skin beneath his eyepatch begin to itch uncomfortably. No, he can't think about that; he doesn't blame Buffy for what happened. Still...

"Tell him ten best. Not ten best dressed. We don't want another Orvieto." That mission had been a disaster. If it hadn't been for the squad leader's quick thinking, he doesn't think anyone would have made it out alive. He can't bear to lose anyone else.

·~:~·

"Yes, Mister Harris." Renee lets her fingers dance across the keyboard in front of her, relaying his message.

"'Xander.'" Renee looks surreptitiously over her shoulder as Mister Harris walks back to his pedestal. "Renee, I told you, it's 'Xander.' Or," and here his voice takes on a slightly mischievous tone, "'Sergeant Fury'."

It's hard to tell, but Renee has been working with him long enough that she notices just how tired he is. When was the last time he had a full night's sleep? she wonders. She wants to cheer him up.

"Wasn't Nick Fury a Colonel when he ran S.H.I.E.L.D.?" she asks, thinking back to what her parents call her "misspent childhood."

Success! Xander stops in mid-stride, turning to look at her. "I like him better in the Howling Commando days," he says, "But your nerd points are accumulating impressively." His smile sends a pleasant tingle up her spine.

"I try, Sergeant." She graces him with an impish grin before turning back to her terminal.

·~:~·

Markedly happier, Xander returns to his station, leaving Renee to her work. The satellite places Rowena on the roof directly above the church' windows. He looks up at the gigantic plasma screen covering most of the far side of the room, which is displaying the feed from Satsu's camera. Buffy has made her way to the door behind which the demons are located. Who does he think he's kidding? He wouldn't miss this for all the sleep in the world. "Okay, Buf. Game on."