Author's Note: First of all - Queen Boadicea, although I appreciate your point of view and all, I disagree with pretty much everything you wrote about Spike in your review. I try to write him realistically, but I can't help loving the guy.

In response to veryblackcat's review, I have to admit that pairings are still up in the air at the moment – and so I'm probably going to shamelessly pander to the audience and go with the pairing suggestions that are the most popular. Okay? (coughthat'sacueforreviewscough)

However, I have to point out that I don't plan on bringing anyone back from the dead and extremely unlikely pairings aren't really my thing (so Giles, for example, will not be falling in love with Dawn). And uskohakuchan, as far as I'm concerned Gunn's feelings for Fred had become purely platonic by the time she died, but he still cared a great deal for her, so although he doesn't hate having Illyria around, he's not loving it either.

Chapter III: Arrivals

"Remind me – the movers were here for how long?"

Even as she said it, Buffy was trying to rearrange her features into an expression a little less awestruck. It wasn't working.

Xander laughed. "Actually, I think the real miracle here is that Giles managed to convince the Council to cough up for all this. That man deserves a blueberry muffin and a gold star."

They both even had their own separate offices, each door sporting a shiny brass plaque with their names on it and, underneath in smaller letters, the word 'Principal'. Buffy ran an appreciative finger over the plaque on her own door before turning the handle and entering the room for the first time. She managed to take one step before being shocked into stillness.

"Surprise?" Willow stood right in front of the desk, head tilted so that her auburn hair cascaded onto one shoulder, eyes shining. "Or did you know I was coming?" Her voice was the same, but … different. A lot of the innocence had been replaced with a deep, knowing calm. Her visit to the astral planes had definitely changed her.

Buffy couldn't find her voice, but it didn't matter because suddenly Willow was hugging her tightly and they were half-laughing, half-crying and trying to speak at the same time. "Your hair," Buffy said finally, pulling back to take some of it between her fingers, "it's longer. And scarily shiny."

"Perk of the whole Wiccan goddess thing," Willow said proudly, but with an obvious smile in her eyes. "The shampoo companies just don't employ the right kind of people."

Buffy nodded sagely to this. "That's what I've always said. So … you're here."

"I am here, Buffy. I said I would be." Now it was Willow's turn to step back, and she looked seriously at her best friend. "And…" she paused, hesitating. "Buffy, I know we all keep our little secrets, but is there anything – you know – you'd like to tell me about?"

Buffy's eyes filled and she looked away. "How did you know?"

"It's part of the mojo. I look on life with eyes immortal. At least that's what I've been told. Not, you know, that I'm actually immortal. Not that there's anything wrong with being immortal, it's just… not my thing," she finished lamely. "Which, um, kind of brings up the next question."

"No. It's not him." Willow waited for her best friend to continue the sentence, but it trailed off and she sighed. "Not be Little Miss Nosy Pants here, but this isn't really the kind of thing you should be keeping quiet, Buffy."

Buffy turned to grab her handbag from the desk. "I'm not, Will. I went to a doctor, and she – she gave me these –" she pulled out a white tube full of pills, "and folic acid," she pulled out another set of pills, her hands shaking, "and a lot of supplements and she said… she said I'd be fine. That I could handle it."

And then the Slayer broke down and sobbed. As Willow held her, humming a single soothing note, Buffy spoke into the forgiving wool of her friend's now-damp cardigan. "But I don't think I can, Will."

Her voice dropped and she revealed another secret, more shameful than all the rest. "I'm not even sure I want to."

---

"That's it?" Robin Wood stared at the single, neatly shut black suitcase, one eyebrow raised. "Is the other one invisible, or am I missing something here?"

Faith laughed, suddenly feeling giddy. She came up behind him and reached out to wrap her arms around his chest, face pressed sideways into the familiar solidity of his back. "Why? Were you expecting me to make off with the family jewels?"

"Not all of them. Just one." He picked up her left hand and planted a kiss on the simple band of silver adorning the fourth finger. "And you're more than welcome to it."

---

"You're Dawn Summers, right?" The girl was short, almost impossibly slender and the kind of pale, wispy blonde who doesn't need to dye her hair and probably wouldn't want to anyway. She was also very, very nervous.

Dawn tore her attention away from the conversation she was having with her friends long enough to look up at the girl and, seeing her obvious apprehension, give her a warm smile. "Yup. That would be me. They just couldn't manage to convince me to wear a name tag, because those things are so Singles Anonymous. What's your name?"

"I'm Palmer," the girl said, her entire posture now expressing relief. "Palmer Dalton. Sorry for just coming up like this, but I was wondering if I could you ask a few questions? If you're not too busy," she added hurriedly, glancing at the girls Dawn was sitting with.

Dawn saw her glance and laughed. "Um, not unless you count listening to Rona's Chinese supermarket owner story for the fortieth time as being busy. That's her, by the way," she added, pointing briefly at the African-American girl in the seat across, "and this is Vi –" she indicated the pale redhead on her right, who waved cheerily. "And the Dania Ramirez lookalike is Caridad."

The athletic-looking Asian girl sitting next to Rona nodded in Palmer's direction before rounding on Dawn. "For the last time - that Ramirez girl is from some Caribbean island. I'm Filipino! We look nothing alike."

Dawn shrugged, mainly to annoy Caridad further. "Whatever. That's the last time I try giving you a compliment."

Vi raised her hand in mock eagerness. "Ooh, does that mean the next one's mine?"

Dawn scrutinized her for a moment. "Not sure I'd be able to pull it off, Vi." The others laughed as Vi took off her hat (a fetching pink-and-purple creation) and pretended to stifle her friend with it.

After fighting Vi off with a few wild flails of her arms, Dawn became aware that Palmer was still there, waiting patiently. "God, I'm sorry – I totally need a rudeness check. What did you want to ask?"

"Well," Palmer began hesitantly, "my schedule. It's …" She paused, trying to find the words.

"Kind of freaky?" Dawn supplied. Palmer nodded, adding, "I've never even heard some of these subjects before."

"I know." Dawn grinned. "We had to make up most of them. I mean, okay, Demonology is already a word, but I'm pretty sure it's never been taught in a school before."

"And … are all the teachers …?"

"Human?" Dawn thought about it for a moment. "Some of them. A few." She decided to be more honest. "Or, okay, none that I can think of except Xander, and he's only doing Woodcraft." Prompted by Palmer's blank stare, she explained. "It's like Woodshop classes, but more advanced and, you know, to do with making deadly weapons and protection charms. That sort of thing."

"Anyway, it's not like we could depend on a civilian to teach us anything about," Rona paused to scan her own timetable, "Slayer History, Supernatural Law, Weapons Mastery, Advanced Magick or Combat Training." Rona's take on the word 'civilian' was a normal person who wasn't aware of the existence Slayers or the big bad things they hunted.

"Combat Training is our version of gym class – frequent and compulsory," Dawn explained. "And not everyone takes Advanced Magick – that's Willow's call. If she sees a witchy spark in you, you're in."

"Are you all seniors?" Palmer asked, her tone respectful. Dawn nodded. "But next year we can choose to stay at the school and take college-level classes, like Kennedy's doing, or just attend college and take all the Slayer classes on the side. You're a freshman, right?"

Palmer nodded. "Not sure which dorm I'm in yet, though."

"That'll get sorted out when we arrive," Dawn assured her. She checked her watch. "Which should be in about two hours." The double-decker school bus was moving through Los Angeles on its way to San Diego, and Dawn had only been picked up from her dad's place about fifteen minutes before Palmer had boarded the bus.

The girls now became aware that the bus was slowing down, and there was a sound of rushed footsteps above their heads as the fifty or so girls seated in the top level of the bus moved forward to peer through the windows, while the thirty-odd girls on the first level did exactly the same thing.

"Ewww," Dawn heard one girl whisper to another somewhere to her left, "someone lives here?" And though it was nasty thing to say, Dawn had to admit that the run-down motel the bus had stopped in front of was a far cry from the apartment buildings and villas they had picked girls up from so far.

Finally, the girls could see that someone was coming out of the motel and heading towards the bus. More than one someone, in fact – there were four people, although it was hard to get a good look at them since two of them were shielding themselves from the sun with what looked a lot like towels and the other two were walking at some distance behind the others.

But at last they came close enough for Dawn to make out their faces, and she let out what could only be called a piercing squeal. "Ohmygod! Oh my god!" She pushed past the nearest flock of girls, earning her quite a few nasty looks, and up to the bus doors.

As soon as they slid open and an extremely familiar figure stepped through them, Dawn flung herself forward and threw her arms around that figure, looking up at him with a megawatt smile lighting her face. "I can't believe this! I didn't even know you were coming!"

Spike got over his own surprise long enough to drop the towel and put an arm around her shoulders, his expression softening into an odd, regretful tenderness as he looked at her. "Hello there, Niblet. Missed me?"

Author's Note: Before anyone asks, I'd like to point out that this is officially a Mary-Sue-free fic. I'll make up Slayerette names and faces as I go along, but none of them are headed for Main Character-ness.