Oxford University, England ------- May 10, 2006

Dawn Summers slept. At least, she tried to sleep. It had been a long day of final exams and she was both over stressed and more hyped up than she'd been in weeks. There were lots of downsides to living on the Hellmouth---the high mortality rate alone was enough to make property values plummet to record lows for Southern California. The one advantage to living in apocalypse central, however, was the schedule. There was always something rising out of the Hellmouth around exam time. It was terrible for the Slayer, but it meant that her little sister hadn't suffered through a final until her final year of high school in Italy.

It also meant that Dawn was a little out of practice in dealing with end of the year stress. Evil and veiny witches intent on turning her into energy balls she could handle, no sweat. A twenty page term about the French Revolution gave her nightmares.

It was a screwy world.

Dawn opened her eyes and squinted at the digital clock. It was quarter 'til two and she still couldn't sleep. She sighed, turned over once more, and stared at her roommate. Alexis McDowall was a slayer that Willow had located in Edinborough. She was taking classes with Dawn at Oxford (Giles had pulled a few strings), and the youngest Summers suspected it was no coincidence that she had a slayer has a roommate/body guard. Although, for the record, she had been trained alongside the potentials and she'd had three extra years of field experience and Watcher training. She didn't need anyone else. Overprotective older sisters seemed to disagree. It was okay most of the time. Alexis was a classics major, too, and surprisingly emotionally stable for a slayer.

They got along well, except for those sleepless nights when all Dawn seemed to hear was her roommate's freight train snoring. On nights like these, she was tempted to smother the slayer with a pillow, which, considering the potential victim, was pointless. When one is smothered, another is called.

Alexis snored louder while Dawn covered her ears with her pillow and closed her eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. And in and out. And no killing the roommate. She repeated the mantra in her head and, surprisingly, it worked.

Dawn had been made from Buffy, blood of her blood and all that mess. In the grand scheme of things it didn't seem to make much of a difference, except, of course, that such a close connection promoted swan-diving behavior in her sister. She'd never derived any personal benefits from having Buffy blood. In point of fact, she had "talk with monks" on her list of things to do. She felt cheated in the super powers department. Or at least she had until now.

If she had a super power to pick from, she probably would have chosen the slayers' unnatural grace and ability to instantly learn any martial arts move. She'd always been a little clumsy and admired Buffy's skills. Second probably would have to be the enhanced strength. Psychic dreams? Those would have been the last item on the list. The Powers That Be were just funny that way.

She dreamed she was in the middle of a large city. At first she thought it was New York or possibly downtown L.A., but if it was, she couldn't make out any defining landmarks in the horizon. For the first time, she understood why she'd had to shake Buffy out of many of her dreams. Everything felt real. Pity it wasn't a nicer picture. The streets around her were filled with looters, many of whom had already set fire to various businesses. Dawn could feel the smoke clouding her eyes and blinked back tears. She could smell the sweat of the hundreds of surging bodies and she could hear the screams. She hated the screams.

Another benefit of the Sunnydale experience was exposure to large groups of panicking people. Granted, she'd mostly seen people flee from disaster. Sunnydale may have imploded, but there hadn't been riots. Well, there was that one time with the Gentlemen, but there'd been the Initiative to keep the peace. As far as she could tell, the cavalry wasn't coming, or if it had, it had gotten its ass seriously kicked.

Reflexively, Dawn jumped to her right as a group of five men, all of them armed with bricks or pipes, ran through where'd she'd been. She didn't much like the look in their eyes anymore than she liked the smoke. It was a hungry, predatory look---the same one she'd seen most vampires sport. It was a whole city in game face.

She shivered.

The most disorienting part of the dream was that she couldn't tell when she was. Before her sister had been called, she dreamed about the lives of past slayers. But then again Buffy had also seen the future and watched helplessly as potentials were slaughtered before her eyes. Dawn hoped it was a precognitive dream because then there was a chance the Scooby Council could stop it, even if all the big bads were human.

She kept walking, rubbing her arms as she went, trying to stave off an overwhelming feeling of cold. Desperate for anything to wrap around her arms, she picked up a discarded newspaper but stopped.

"Mm, Daily Planet. That explains a why I didn't recognize it. The shopping in Metropolis sucks." She said to herself before dropping the paper back down. She wasn't that desperate, not yet.

Then she heard it, a scream louder and more piercing than any of the others. Instinctively, she reached for the stake that should have been in her jacket pocket. Humans and stakes didn't exactly mix, as Faith could tell you, but step one in Hellmouth disaster training was to keep a piece of wood handy.

She cursed under her breath when she found nothing more lethal in her pockets than an old gum wrapper.

"Screw it." She muttered as she ran toward the noise. Martial arts training had to count for something, right?

Dawn skidded to a stop in front of a crashed limousine. There were five men crouched ten feet away, and she could see flashes of someone underneath them. She could make out brassy blond hair and glimpses of a suit jacket.

"Stop!" She yelled, sounding braver than she actually felt. The men stopped, stood up, and eyed her with the same predatory ferocity that had infected the city.

The tallest man, casually dressed in jeans and a green t-shirt, glared at her. "And who's going to make us, little girl. You?"

If Buffy had been here, she would have thought up something clever or flippant. Buffy had super powers; she could afford to be a smart-ass. "I guess so."

"Have it your way," tall guy said. He nodded and the mob started running towards Dawn. She braced herself in her best defensive stance and readied herself for the attack.

And then she woke up.

She awoke to see Alexis standing over her, both hands gripping her shoulders. "Dawnie, are you okay?"

"Don't call me Dawnie," she replied automatically. It was a minor point after her (first) intense psychic dream, but she really got tired of being treated as a little kid. If she were fifty, the Scooby Council and by extension all the slayers would still call her Dawnie.

"Sorry. Wasn't thinking." Alexis frowned. "Are you okay? You were screaming pretty loud. It wasn't about Glory was it?"

Dawn shook her head. She still had occasional nightmares about the day her sister died and she'd opened the portal to…well everywhere. "No. This was something different." She paused and Alexis glared at her. "Alright, so no more pauses for dramatic effect then. I think I had a slayer dream."

"But you're not a slayer."

"Stating the obvious much? But I have slayer blood, so maybe some of it finally kicked in."

"Can you be sure?"

"Are you ever sure when it happens?"

Alexis nodded, "Yeah, it feels real; all five senses just go into overdrive."

"Then it was definitely a slayer dream. I don't understand why I had one and you didn't, but I think there might be a potential in trouble."

"But there aren't any potentials, hence big-ass slayer spell that Willow pulled off."

"Well maybe there are new potentials?" Dawn offered but frowned. "That doesn't really make sense, but there's a girl in big trouble and I think someone has to save her."

"Since when do slayer dreams deal with just one person? I thought they were about preparing slayers for the big smack-down. You know, apocalypse type stuff."

Dawn thought back to the riots and the raging fires. "It sure seemed apocalypse-level to me."

"Alright," Alexis said, her eyes narrowed and her head tilted toward her. "Clearly, you think---"

"I know."

"You think you know someone is in trouble. Then the next logical questions are where do we need to go and is what you saw a rerun?"

Dawn took a breath. "Metropolis."

Alexis laughed and then stopped herself when Dawn glared at her. "So you had a dream about Kansas?"

"Buffy dreamed about girls in Germany."

"Fair enough. So, round two: is it something that has happened or is about to go down?"

Dawn squinted her eyes and tried to recall the newspaper she'd read. "I saw a date." She scrunched up her forehead in deeper concentration and then widened her eyes. "It's tomorrow's date."

"Even if we got on the Concord tonight and explained the credit card expense to Mr. Giles, we probably won't make it there in time."

Dawn nodded, "But we know someone who can. Get me the phone and I think I can sort everything out."

Alexis arched and eyebrow, "You think everything's going to be all five-by-five, but do you really think that 'the burned out street corner in the middle of a riot' are good enough directions to give her. Oh and to keep her from kicking your butt."

Dawn bit her lower lip. "I'm putting a lot of trust in slayer sense."

"And when you tell her that you're the one with the link to the psychic friend's network?"

"No worries. I'm telling her that you've been having the nightmare for a week and finally broke down and told me."

"So she can kick my ass when she makes the trip to Kansas and finds out she left her post for nothing. Gee thanks, Dawnie."

"I live to serve. Now hand me the phone."

Alexis saluted. "Aye-aye, captain. But if I were you, I still think of a more specific location than 'that burned out crap hole.'"

"How about a block to the west of the Daily Planet headquarters?"

Alexis handed her the phone and shook her head. "She's still going to kill you for this."

"It's early in the States."

"Yeah, but you'll be interrupting her prime violence time."

Metropolis, Kansas ------------------------------------------------- May 11, 2006; 6:00 pm

Chloe Sullivan was terrified. She'd been in trouble before. Hell, it seemed like the meteor freaks in Smallville when they weren't tracking down Lana Lang, were knocking down her door. She'd been put into witness protection, almost blown up, and put the most powerful man in the state behind bars almost single-handedly. But she'd never been alone. Even before she'd known the truth about her best friend, she'd always had it in the back of her mind that, if things got bad enough, Clark would step in and save her. It's what he did. Before she'd moved to Smallville, she'd always had Lois and her uncle the General, to watch her back.

This time, she knew the cavalry wasn't coming.

Lois was half way to Washington by now and Clark was somewhere in the middle of this hellhole hopefully beating Fine and Zod into bloody pulps or maybe in Fine's case liquid metal pulps. Whatever. No one was going to save her now.

Despite that, Chloe couldn't quell her instincts. She screamed as the pack of rioters began to assault her and continued until someone clamped a filthy hand over her mouth. She felt at least five sets of hands pawing over her body and shuddered when her suit jacket was ripped off. She struggled more, bucking against the arms of her captors, unwilling to let them take what she feared they wanted. Two of the men leaned down lower and pressed their bulk against her hips, forcing her to remain still.

She looked up and the man holding his hand over her mouth smiled at her and pulled out a long switch blade. He drew it over the skin of her chest. She could feel the coldness of the blade and waited for it to dig deeper and draw blood. The other four laughed and catcalled as the leader began to tear progressively larger slits into her blouse.

Chloe closed her eyes. There were a lot of things she'd witnessed as a reporter (even a junior one) but watching her own assault would not be one of them.

The blade slice in front of her stomach and nicked the flesh near her navel. Chloe flinched and waited for the next, deeper cut. Instead she felt the rush of wind over face and the welcome sensation of fresh air rushing into her mouth.

She opened her eyes and watched as a dark haired girl threw knife guy twenty feet into the chain link fence behind them. Knife guy groaned, grabbed his head, and struggled to his knees. "You're going to pay for that, bitch."

The other four men released Chloe and rushed into a circle to surround the girl. Chloe sat up and grabbed her jacket and turned to get a better view of the fight. At first, she could only see the girl from behind and thought she might be Andrea, the vigilante also known as the Angel of Vengeance. The long dark hair was the same and so was the propensity for dark black clothing, but this girl wasn't wearing a bandana.

She also didn't fight like Andrea did.

Andrea, much like Clark, was all about brute strength. While this new girl was obviously strong---how else could she chuck a guy twice her size half way across the street---she was also unbelievably graceful.

As the first of the two rioters rushed toward her, the girl dodged to the right and then executed a left spin kick. Her leg impacted with the taller of the two men and he lost his balance and collided into the other. They both fell to the pavement.

The second two also rushed in tandem but then broke apart to circle the girl. The man behind her aimed a punch toward the back of her head. The girl spun around, caught the man's fist in mid-strike and pulled his arm down as hard as she could. A loud pop rang out through the street and suddenly his left shoulder hung two inches lower than his right. During this time the second assailant attempted to wrap his arms around her chest to subdue her. The girl dropped the first man's arms and brought her head back and into the nose of the man holding her.

He screamed as blood streamed from his nose to the pavement.

The girl grabbed both men by their jackets and half dragged-half threw them on top of the first two would-be muggers.

"Are you tired yet? Because I can go all night." She sneered. The men shook their heads and started to back towards the nearest alley. The girl smiled and straightened her jean jacket. "Good call, jack-asses." She turned toward Chloe and offered her a hand up, until the reporter shouted:

"Behind you!"

The dark haired girl back flipped over the head of on-rushing knife guy and kicked him in the back, sending him head first into the nearest wall. He moaned and then blacked out.

"Smooth," Chloe commented hopping up. "It might have been a bit more impressive if you could keep count."

"Buffy was always on us about watching our backs and keeping our guards up. Of course, since I tried to tune her out as much as possible, I sort of missed out on most of those lessons." The girl shook her head and laughed at her own private joke. "I'm Kennedy.'

Chloe stuck out her hand and waited for her savior to shake it. "Chloe Sullivan and do you come with a last name, or does this whole super hero gig require a one word moniker?"

"Moniker, huh? I haven't heard that word since my first Watcher was still alive. I guess your one of those brainy types." Her voice trailed off and Chloe swore she caught the phrase "Like Willow".

"Okay," Chloe said, trying in vain to brush the grime off of her jacket, "I really appreciate the rescue and the Deus ex Machina of the whole thing was wonderful, but I have places to be and possibly a billionaire to save, which is kind of funny considering the previous phases in our relationship." She started walking past Kennedy, but the other girl gripped her arm and wouldn't let go. Chloe could have tried pressing forward, but she'd rather not have her shoulder dislocated today if she could help. It didn't appear that the chiropractors would be open any time soon.

She sighed. "Could you let go please."

"Yeah because this in addition to the eight hour drive to Kansas was the highlight of my day. I promised my friends that I'd stay with you and keep you safe."

"Like a bodyguard."

"Yeah, fine, whatever. I think I prefer that to the term 'glorified babysitter,' but if that works for you too----"

Chloe shook her head and tried to dislodge herself from Kennedy's grip. "So you were sent?"

"Jeez, twenty questions much. What's there to know? There's a freaking riot all around you and your guardian angel shows up, kicks ass, and now you want to just walk back out into Attempted Rape Land. Are you crazy?"

"No. I just don't think I can trust you"

"Because I'm always afraid when someone saves me from a big, sharp, pointy knife. I think we can add paranoid down on the list with overly curious."

"Gee, thanks. Can you drop my arm now? I'm serious. I have one um…acquaintance who needs help and a roommate who is in serious trouble. I don't have time for the molly coddling. Besides, the last girl I met who could throw people twenty feet murdered a guy in cold blood, and the woman before that almost ripped my hometown apart."

Kennedy dropped Chloe's arm and arched an eyebrow at her. "So this whole super-powered thing isn't a shock to you. Well, that's certainly interesting. I guess you've seen your share of vampires in your day."

"Actually, I have but that's another story. If you promise me that a) you're not from another planet and that b) you've never even heard of Smallville, I'll at least let you follow me."

"How grateful of you," Kennedy deadpanned and then responded, "A) That's the craziest and most paranoid thing I've heard in years and Dana came to Rio for rehab, and B) I make it a point never to visit any place that emphasizes it's puniness in its name. I used to summer in the Hamptons."

Chloe looked over the girls torn and filthy jeans. One of the spots she swore could have been blood. "Right, okay then, let's start looking for that needle in a haystack, or that corporate mogul in the middle of a riot. However you wanna look at it."

"Agreed. It's not like we'll be getting back to Cleveland anytime tonight."

"Cleveland?"

"All part of the long story, which I figure Faith can explain to you. I'm really just the errand girl in this deal. Let's get a move on." With that, the two girls started jogging toward where Chloe had last seen Lionel.

Rome, Italy --------------------------------------------------- May 12, 2006; 12 am

Buffy Summers applied extra mascara in time to the impatient pounding on the other side of the door. The Slayer sighed and shouted in response, "Xander, you knew what you agreed to when you came to Rome for some quality time. It's not like in Africa, I can't consider washing the dust off of me the same as being ready for some serious club time."

Xander Harris leaned his head against the door and mumbled, "I know, but it's been almost two hours and it's not like we didn't go out to dinner first. You looked great then, Buff. How could you improve on that?"

"First of all, we staked a vamp in the alley right afterwards, which means dustiness for me. Second, clubbing in Italy is a whole new ballgame. It's not like I can just wear any pair of jeans."

"When you care enough only to wear your very best pleather."

"Please, I'm all about the real cows now."

Xander paused before responding. "You know, there are several ways to take that last statement." He sighed. "The Immortal really did spoil you."

At the mention of her former boyfriend's name, Buffy's grip on the mascara slipped and she poked her eye. "Damn it Xander! I'm trying to concentrate here. Besides I thought we had that rule about not mentioning demony significant others."

"We did, but Dawn e-mailed me this morning and highlighted for me what an utter tool that guy was."

"'Tool'? That was the best insult she could come up with," Buffy said as she reached for her lipstick. "The girl speaks five languages and cusses in several demon ones. I'm sort of disappointed."

Xander chuckled. "Oh she came up with one much better than that, Buffster, but I thought I tone it down a bit so that you wouldn't kill her next time she left Merry Old. Seriously, though, what were you thinking? I mean, I hated Dead Boy and Dead Boy, Jr., but even they fought pretty clearly on team white hat when it mattered. The Immortal was a bad news alchemist with half of Europe under his spell."

Buffy threw down her lip stick so hard that it chipped the counter, flakes of marble spilled to the floor. "What part of 'not talking about the exes' was hard to remember?"

"Sorry." Xander said in a tone that indicated he was anything but.

The Slayer sighed and started cleaning up her bathroom floor. Rubbing the marble dust of her hands, she replied, "It's okay. I mean, I understand. There was a really long time when I couldn't understand how you could date A…Cordelia and I still don't know what the hell Willow saw in Kennedy."

"Ditto with all your undead dating choices, but, for the record, I really liked Riley."

Buffy chuckled. There was a good chance that if she'd consented, Xander would have asked Riley out himself after she grew bored with him. Not that Xander swung that way, but he had developed quite the little man crush on her loyal soldier ex. "Fair enough. I guess it's a good thing for all of us that we don't let the other Scoobies pick our dates."

Xander nodded and donned his best goofy grin as Buffy opened the bathroom door. He stared down at his best friend and sputtered. The Slayer found it adorable. The now rugged Watcher had harbored a crush for her on and off since tenth grade and it seemed that she'd triggered that semi-buried desire. It was flattering, actually. When she'd first come to Rome, she hadn't been the most popular girl at the disco. It wasn't like she'd been fending off guys at the Bronze, but she'd gotten asked to dance a few times whenever she and Willow and Xander went out. In Rome, she hadn't started out as the "it girl" type. The last few years of trauma at Sunnydale had stripped her of the last of her baby fat, leaving behind a lithe, sinewy woman, refining her until she was nothing but weapon. It might have made her a better slayer, but, in Dawn's words, it made her skeleton skinny.

Guys, it appeared, did not date Skeletor. Dawn's mothering and second helpings of pasta had given her back her curves and with them her ability to attract male attention. Of course, she'd also managed to attract one of the all time jerks of the world, The Immortal. At first, she'd been under his spell (literally as it turns out) and devoted almost all of her time to him. Then she'd caught him cheating on her with several female S'varlok demons, at the same time no less. No Jedi mind trick or whatever crap he'd been pulling could make her overlook that. She'd kicked his ass to the curb.

Dawn had smiled for weeks.

Now she was happy-go-lucky Buffy, or as close as this Slayer ever got to happy-go-lucky. There were too many vamps in her closet for her to ever feel completely free, even becoming unchosen one hadn't lessened her sense of responsibility. After all, as both she and Faith had realized, training slayers was almost as difficult as being one. But tonight, she was trying to be Club Hopping!Buffy with Eye Patchin Wearing!Xander as her trusty side kick. Life was good, and, judging by the way Xander still hadn't managed to breathe, her black leather pants and red halter were broadcasting her partying mood. There were a lot of things Buffy hated about Faith, but she had to give the other Senior Slayer credit, Faith-wear definitely attracted male attention.

Buffy laughed and turned in a circle, shaking her rear a little for Xander. "So, now do you see why I didn't want to wear jeans?"

"Uh-huh," he coughed and his voice dropped back to its normal octave range. "Maybe you should burn all your non-leather pants. It's a very good luck for you." He winced when his voice broke on the "y" in very.

"Glad you approved. Now, I know you thought that Nairobi had the best nightlife out there, but there are clubs in Italy that don't close until the sunrises. You are going to love it."

"Will there be other women wearing nothing but Faith's hand-me-downs."

"So you do recognize the look?" Buffy's smile widened. "Probably and they'll speak little English, so even your conversation skills won't scare them off."

"Shows what you know. The Harris Wit is legendary and I had been planning to regale them with stories of my adventures on the high seas, arrr."

"And now?"

"I'm mostly going to drool."

"Good plan," she replied as she started for her bedroom. "I just want to grab the right purse and we can leave."

"Great," Xander said, rubbing his hands together. "Because I'd hate for you to suffer through the pain of realizing your purse was actually navy blue and you'd been clashing all night. Of course, a few shots in you, and you probably won't be able to tell said colors apart…"

The Slayer arched an eyebrow at him from her bedroom doorway. "What? He responded. "After a fiancé, a girlfriend, and a decade female best friends, I can actually tell navy from black. Well…most of the time."

"Right, Mr. House of Style, if you'll excuse me, I---" And then the lights went out.

Rio de Janiero, Brazil

Willow Rosenberg concentrated and the darkened living room was lit with
flickering flames. It had been a busy two hours. For a bunch of girls with
superpowers, the younger slayers sure panicked easily. Of course, Willow
reminded herself, not everyone had the distinct advantage (?) of growing up in
the mouth of hell. That was great for working on your stoicism, especially if
the world almost ended every six months.

Absentmindedly, the witch reached out her hand to her left side. She hadn't
even realized that she was reaching out for her…no, no longer her
slayer…for Kennedy for support. Even though the last three months of their
relationship had been filled with fights, Willow still associated the
hard-headed slayer with security and control. Even with
Kennedy stationed in Cleveland, Willow still sought her out as her tether.

A kite with no string was going to stray too far. Of course, in Willow's case
that straying included Apocalyptic levels of badness and not soaring through
the clouds. The red witch sighed and blew her bangs up off her forehead. She
turned when she heard whistling.

Maya reminded Willow a lot of Buffy. She was slight and short, still a few
inches shorter than Willow herself. She also possessed a great deal of self
control. It was hard for Willow sometimes to get into the younger girl's head, to
understand her. Kennedy had been better at that, especially with the more
stubborn slayers. Maya, however, had also displayed a bit of magical talent
and Willow had been trying to connect to her through that. Besides, there were obvious advantages to a slyer with magical abilities. A slayer who had access to a ball
of sunshine spell or who could summon fire with a word would be a force to be reckoned
with.

That's why the young slayer was here now, she had helped Willow collect and
set out the candles for her spell. The headquarters of the Amazons was equipped
with the best safety equipment (both top of the line weapons and the typical
emergency preparedness kits) and Willow had dutifully doled out the supplies to
each of her twenty charges. The candles, however, were enchanted and would last
as long as the power outage did whereas batteries in flashlights and oil supplies in
old lanterns tended to run out. After the chaos of the First, the witch knew
that some power outages could last for weeks, and she had the sinking feeling
that this outage could last even longer.

Shaking the gloomy thoughts from her head, she grinned at Maya, "It's cool,
huh? It took me a long time to get the basic spells down, you know? I was well
into college before I could summon fire without making the other elements go
all kerpluey."

"Dios mio. I can see that. I can't wait until I get the fireball spell
down. That's going to be so cool!"

"Just don't scorch any of the other girls' outfits on patrol.
First time I tried it while visiting Buffy in Italy, I ruined her favorite pair
of boots."

"And Mr. Pointy."

"Scorched, just scorched." She shook her head. "You are never going to
let me forget that one, are you? Being a bad-ass goddess is a lot harder than
it looks."

"Uh-huh. Do you need anything else before I get back to the dorms?"

"Yeah, could you hand me the laptop on the way out. The batteries won't
last too long, even with a magical boost, but I want to check on all the
emergency information, considering that the radios and tv are out."

"No problema." The young slayer conceded tossing a somewhat frantic Willow
the computer. The witch spun around and stuck her hand out, causing the laptop
to stay suspended in mid-air.

"Hey!"

"I knew you were going to catch it."

"Know it all slayers. Make sure the girls are armed and ready for patrol. You
all spend so much time wandering around in the dark, you should have cat-style night
vision anyway, but hopefully not the fleas."

"Aye-aye, capitan."

Willow flipped open her computer and let it warm up as the other girl left.
She looked over the candle arrangement, making sure that none of them were too
close to the edge of the table. Magically enhanced candles were great to see
by, but she really didn't want to have to write an invoice to Giles
explaining why the South American Scooby Council headquarters had been engulfed
by flames. The witch glanced back down at her computer screen and blanched.

She hadn't even tried to access the internet yet and her computer was a mess
of scrawling symbols. Their unnatural green glow reminded her briefly of the
matrix, but Willow could read code. This wasn't it. At least it wasn't any
code she had ever seen. Like the rest of the Scoobies, even Xander if he'd
ever admit to it, Willow had seen dozens of different demon languages and could
read several crucial ancient ones, including Hieroglyphics and Cuneiform. While
the symbols were reminiscent of these writing systems, they weren't the same.

Willow frowned, placed her hands over the keyboards, and concentrated. It had
been years since she'd melded minds with a computer, not since the incident
with the diamond heist back during that awful year. She wasn't sure she could
still do it, if she wanted to still do it. The witch took a deep breath and let
the information flow through her.

She blanched. Never in her life had she felt anything like it, not with
draining Rack, not with the scythe, not even with her first spell restoring
Angel's soul (she did that a lot, actually, and had to clarify the times in
her mind. The gypsies may have been powerful curse wielders, but overall, the
spell still sucked. Too many gosh darn loop holes). The closest she had come to
this type of power and utter otherness was the time she'd tried to turn Dawn
back into the Key.

It wasn't mystical so much as it was different, alien. It was something
beyond even Willow's comprehension. She shivered.

(Buffy) she called out with her mind. Willow hesitated and called out more
loudly this time, (Buffy, Xander, can you hear me?) She hadn't tried to
psychically link to them since their super secret Scooby meetings on Revello Drive
(some things, such as the phrase "cannon fodder" thank you very much Anya,
could not be said in front of the Potentials), and she did not like to do it.
It reminded her of how powerful she was and how easy it would be to do more
than just communicate mind-to-mind.

However, she really doubted that Cingular Wireless was working right now.

(Guys! Is everything alright?) Willow counted the seconds off in her head and
started chewing at her nails. They had to be fine. It wasn't like freaky
South American computer malfunctions were the same as a vamp attack.

(Great googly-moogly, Wills. What have I said about the whole Jean Gray thing?)
Xander grumped.

(Sorry, and I promise not to go poking around in your brain or anything, but I
really didn't know what else to do. Everything here is dead. I mean even the
CB and you don't want to even ask about the internet.)

(In Rio? That is so weird because the power just went out in Rome not forty
five minutes ago, and Xand and I were about to go out.) The Slayer replied.
Willow could swear that even via telepathy Buffy was pouting.

(I don't think this is localized. I…have you tried to get in touch with
Giles or Faith?)

(We tried the whole "can you hear me now" approach, but we don't have the
mojo for cross continental think tanks.) Xander replied. (What do you want to
do?)

Willow took in a deep breath. (I'm going to call up Giles and Faith, see
exactly what we're dealing with, but I think it'd be best if you two were
already at Slayer Central.)

(Because I'm sure there's air travel when there isn't even electricity)
Xander snarked. Willow ignored him. He was scared and this was the best way he
could cope.

(Teleportation then. Will?) Buffy asked, her pout replaced by her
down-to-business Slaymaster General voice, (Can you get us as far as Dawn's
dorm room. I need to collect her. If this power outage is as on a big a scale
as we think it is, I don't want her alone.)

(There is Alexis.) Willow pointed out.

(I know, but she's still green, well not literally, but she's new and this
is my baby sister we're talking about. Besides, Dawnie's is only a few
blocks from Council HQ and we can all walk over together.)

(I can make that work and with no nosebleeds anymore, which is pretty much a
yay me thing.)

(A passage to England for two. Is there any reason why the new and improved
council couldn't have been based in Hawaii?) There was a pause and Willow
could just imagine Buffy's glare. (I'm just saying) Xander mumbled.

(Alright. Grab your favorite sharp and pointy friends and I'll be ready to
send you right off. I'm also keeping the line of communication open. Just let
me know when you get there. I want to make sure you made it there in one piece.)

(There's a chance we'll end up in pieces?) Xander yelped.

(Figure of speech. This is much easier than the slayer creation spell, and that
turned out okay didn't it.) Willow closed her eyes and concentrated, breathing
deeply in meditation. (Ready?)

(Yes.) Buffy, of course.

(No.) Xander.

(One, two, three.) Willow tried to stifle her giggles as Xander yipped in mid
teleportation. Actually, it might not have been all about Xander and his Air
Willow travel squeamishness. The magic felt different now. It had come for so
long from a place of pain and of control. Now Willow could feel the joy and the
life in her spells, and they made her giddy. Struggling to stifle the laughter
in her head, she asked (Everything okay?)

(Yes and no.) Buffy replied tersely.

(You both did make it there, right?)

(Easier than the slayer spell my ass) Xander griped.

(Yes. Don't listen to Xand; he can be a baby sometimes.)

(Yeah, living on the Savannah has made me a real softy.)

(Then what's the problem?)

(Dawn's gone.)

(Well, I'm sure she's just down the hall or in the commons room, Buffy).

(Not unless her commons rooms has been moved to Kansas.) Xander supplied.

(Oh no.)

(I'm going to find her, drag her back home, and then I am going to kill her
myself.) Buffy growled.

Willow shivered and hoped for Dawn's sake that her sister never found her.