A/N: This chapter is fully AU.

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.

Chapter 3: Ripples

·:: Scotland Command Center ::·

The sky is a mottled dark gray as far as the eye can see. A soft mist rises gently from the water below, taking on the form of mysterious figures dancing on the scraggly hills of the moor. What little light is visible through the filter of the gloomy clouds obscuring the sun lends a solemn, unearthly air to the landscape, unblemished but for the castle in which Satsu is standing, her face pressed against the cold glass of a portal to the world outside.

Her brown eyes are clouded, fogged like the pane of the window through which her unseeing gaze is directed. How did I let myself get distracted like that? she asks herself, clenching the fingers of her left hand hard enough to leave four half-moon shaped impressions on the meat of her palm. She unconsciously reaches up to the lacerations on her cheek, then tightens her jaw against the sudden flare of pain that results. Satsu glances over her shoulder anxiously, looking at the door behind which Buffy is talking to Leah. Well actually, judging from the tone of the loud voices she can hear behind it, shouting would be a more accurate description. Biting her lips nervously, the girl waits for the gates of judgment to open.

·~:~·

"Sit," Buffy says in a flat voice, indicating a chair in the center of the room the moment the door is closed. She herself is balanced on the foremost edge of the lone dark oak table occupying the majority of the room. The surface is covered with mission reports, but its most prominent feature is a desktop computer decorated with the same metallic red and silver as her scythe.

"I'd prefer to stand," the young recruit replies, meeting the older woman's gaze defiantly.

The commander's eyes narrow slightly, and she glares at her subordinate until the girl complies, looking away quickly. Uncrossing her legs, Buffy stops leaning on her desk and turns the flat-panel monitor resting on it to face the recruit. "Mind telling me what the hell that was about?" Buffy demands, unpausing the video on the screen with the angry click of a button on the remote she is holding.

"Recruits! Flank 'em! Now!" Buffy's static-filled voice calls out from the speakers. The girl displayed on the monitor appears frozen for a split second, then looks around in every direction as if unsure of what to do. Finally, she runs forward blindly to meet the demon rushing towards her and begins flailing wildly at it. In a single sinuous motion, the demon reaches towards the girl one-handed, wrapping its bulbous fingers around her neck. The recruit batters at the beast's arm ineffectually for a few moments before her limbs drop limply to her sides.

Buffy freezes the frame there, turning toward Leah, who is just as frozen in reality as her counterpart on-screen.

·~:~·

"I..." she begins, her voice trailing off. The commander is looking at her with a gaze that says "I'm waiting" just as clearly as if the words were spoken aloud.

Though she might not realize it, Buffy has started to tap one of her fingers on the wooden desk impatiently. Leah swallows nervously, wincing as the action irritates her sore throat. She can feel the moments slip by as Buffy's unwavering stare beats down on her. The silence is a hundred times worse than shouting would have been.

"Why th' hell'd we go doon thur in th' firs' place?" Leah asks, finally. "'Twas s'posed t' be a recon meeshun, no fightin'!" she continues angrily, her voice heating up. Her throat is raw from the strain, but she ignores it. "It's not like you didn't get hurt, neither!" She points accusingly at Buffy's burns.

"I had everything under control."

"Yeah, right!" Leah replies, laughing hysterically. Now that she has begun, the words are pouring out of her frantically, as unstoppable as an avalanche. "If you'd jest stook t' th' plan–"

"Shut up." Her commander's voice is cold as ice and eerily calm, an iron blade sheathed in silk. Leah's mouth drops shut seemingly of its own accord. "If there's one thing I learned in Sunnydale, it's that plans never work out like they're supposed to. Yeah, it wasn't a recon mission. Hell, I planned it that way for a reason. You obviously didn't get the picture, and you almost got yourself killed. If I hadn't ordered Rowena to be there to save your ass, you would have." Leah starts to open her mouth to say something, but Buffy doesn't let her get a word in edgewise. "And there's no way I'm letting you out in the field again until you prove to me that you can handle yourself out there. Dismissed."

Fuming, but unwilling to risk Buffy's ire further, Leah storms out of the room, an unreadable expression on her face.

·~:~·

The door trembles in its frame as it slams shut, but it magically remains on its hinges. Buffy approves; Willow's Wiccans have infused all of the doors in the castle with reinforcement spells as a practical part of their training.

When she is sure that Leah is gone, Buffy deflates visibly. Was I too hard on her? she wonders. The stress of the last couple of years has taken its toll on Buffy's spirit, and she is afraid that it might be affecting her. She walks around the table, sinks into the second chair in the room – the more comfortable one – and lets her face fall into her hands. Early retirement seems like a really good idea. Why are demons so much easier to deal with than people? she wonders, and not for the first time. She massages her temples. For now, though, she should try to be a bit nicer. I missed the heart my first time, too.

At that moment, there is a timid knock on the door and Buffy composes herself hurriedly. "Come in!" she orders, making extra sure not to raise her voice more than strictly necessary. The door quietly opens to admit the newest recruit, Satsu. The girl's eyes are downcast as she meekly turns around to close the door. Instead of sitting, she bends deeply at the waist with her hands clasped in her lap and her head lowered. She remains in the awkward position for several seconds while Buffy shifts uncomfortably in her chair.

"Ma'am," the recruit acknowledges, stiffly, and only then meets her commander's eyes.

Buffy inclines her head, trying hard not to reveal her discomfort. "Satsu." She must have failed though, because she sees the girl's cheeks color slightly as she finally takes a seat, her back ramrod straight and a look of utmost attention on her face.

The tension in the room makes Buffy feel like she is about to burst. "At ease," she says at last, breathing a quiet sigh of relief when the girl seems to relax the slightest bit.

·~:~·

"I let myself get distracted, ma'am," Satsu tells her commander. It is a serious breach of etiquette, but she has to let Buffy know, to make her understand... especially after the way she reacted to Leah's failure. "I – it will not happen again."

"Wanna tell me why I shouldn't kick you out right now?" Satsu swallows, her throat suddenly dry. Her entire body stiffens. Then she sees Buffy's face, her wry smile completely at odds with her gruff voice. What–?

"Everyone makes mistakes, Satsu," she says, standing up and walking around her desk. "Even me," she adds more softly, absentmindedly rubbing a patch of raw skin on her arm. "The important thing is not to let our mistakes control us. Not to give up because we're hurt or scared, because we're all there is; all that's stopping the vampires, the demons, from destroying the world," she explains. "You did well today, Satsu. And the important thing is: you kept going, even when you thought you weren't gonna make it. That's what Slayers do."

Buffy walks closer to her and gets down on one knee, resting her hands on Satsu's shoulders. Satsu tenses for a moment before letting her muscles relax under the warm, comfortable weight. The other woman's face is inches from her own, and she is seized with a sudden, irrational desire to kiss her. Mercifully, she is able to suppress the urge.

"You could be one of my best fighters one day," Buffy says, seriously, her eyes boring into Satsu's so intensely that she feels naked under the gaze. This close, she can see that they are an alluring bright hazel. Almost too soon, the moment ends and Buffy gets to her feet again. "Keep up the good work," she encourages Satsu. "And," she smiles again, "don't let yourself get distracted."

"Yes, ma'am," Satsu promises earnestly, and takes Buffy's replying nod as her cue to leave. As she makes her way back to the shared sleeping quarters, the joy bubbling within her lends an extra spring to her step. Buffy was happy with her. And not only that, she said I could be one of her best fighters.

When she finally drifts off to sleep, it is with the memory of Buffy's tender hands on her shoulders.

·~:~·

As soon as Leah closes the door of the bathroom stall (courtesy of Xander's subcontracting), she lets the tears flow freely down her face. Everythin' is so fockin' unfair! She remains there, barely moving, for a very long time.

·~:~·

Outside, rain is still gently falling, drumming lightly on the barren exterior of the fortress, painting the roughly-hewn stone walls with soft, moist strokes. The castle looks bleak all alone on the moor. As the small wet droplets land, only to slide tenderly down toward the moat surrounding the building, one can almost imagine that it is the face of a large, forlorn beast, shedding silent tears. When the drops reach their destination, they impact the water with gentle plops as they are absorbed, leaving fragile, intermingling ripples in their wake.

·:: Sunnydale Ruins, 3 days ago ::·

It was dark underground, in the bowels of the earth. Damp. Roach liked it that way. He was happy there, protected from the wild vibrations of the world above. And even if it was colder than he generally liked, he was all alone in the darkness. There were no Furry-Monsters. Nice here. Safe, he thought.

Perhaps if he had been a less primitive organism, one more prone to introspection, Roach would have paused to wonder how that was possible; how those abstractions had ever entered his mind. In that case, he might have been more hesitant to approach The Light,when it came. Perhaps he would still be alive today. We shall never know.

On this particular day, he was scavenging – as he had done every day for as long as he could remember (and for many months beyond the reach of his memory). Good food here. Yummy, he pondered to himself, scurrying onwards on his six long limbs. There were fine gray crumbs everywhere; he never had to travel far to find them. Sometimes, though, he got lucky and stumbled on Juicy-Food. It tasted of life and power. Roach was unusually large for his species.

At that moment, the ground quaked. Roach's entire body shook with an instinctive fear he had not felt for a Long Time. His feelers darted around frantically, processing the change in the world he had grown to know so well, to love so dearly. The air hummed faintly, almost imperceptibly, but with a sinister hint of danger he would have been a fool to ignore. The ground quaked again. Yet before he had the chance to scamper more than a dozen body-lengths, Roach saw it: The Light.

It started as a slight blue shimmer somewhere in the distance. As the earth began to shudder more powerfully, it grew in intensity. This wasn't the harsh light of the world above, nor the dim glow of plants he sometimes encountered during his daily scavenging. This was something quite different.

The Light called to him and he felt himself drawn to it. It wanted him to come closer, to bask in its glory. It is... beautiful, Roach decided, not knowing that this would be the most advanced concept ever to pass through his mind. He slowly crept nearer, enthralled as by a Siren's song.

There was a very loud vibration in the air far above him, and Roach cowered beneath its fury. It seemed happy, somehow, yes, but at the same time he knew that it had nothing to do with him. The very core of his being, aided by the collective survival instinct of roaches everywhere, screamed at him to flee, to hide, to –

There was a very loud crunch, and Roach was no more.

·~:~·

"Ewww!" a young woman cried, attempting – with moderate success – to remove the remains of the most enormous cockroach ever from her left boot by scraping it against the uneven ground.

"Ewwwwww, wwww, www, ww..." the echo called back to her in response. She shivered, partly out of revulsion, and partly... it was spooky down here. Ohhh! Still afraid of the dark, are we? a little voice asked her. Her feelings of triumph from mere moments before were scattered like leaves on the wind. You'll always be mama's little girl, won't you?

But you abandoned me, didn't you? a new voice – an old voice – accused her. Worthless girl!

"Shut up!" the girl screamed into the emptiness all around, heedless of the hundreds of copies of her own voice that bounced back at her, imploring her to do the same. "You can't hurt me anymore!" Then, almost in a whisper, she added, "You're dead."

I'll always be here, wherever you go!

"No!" the girl sobbed quietly, tears slowly running down her cheeks. She rubbed at them angrily, succeeding only in smudging the dirt on her face. "No!" The pain in her words was an almost tangible entity. It told a tale of loss, abandonment, and betrayal.

Shhh, yet another voice admonished her, gently. It was that of another woman, around her own age, yet calm and confident. There was a strange otherness to this voice that the others lacked. She didn't know where it came from, but she knew, somehow, that she could trust it. It's gonna be okay; just a bit further. Focusing on this promise and the hope that it offered, the girl brushed her matted blond hair out of her eyes and looked up to see a blue light nearby. As all the other voices faded away and the last echo of her outburst dissolved into silence, she strode purposely towards the light. She was safe now. The voice would protect her; she was sure of it.

·~:~·

The source of the sapphire glow was a large mirror-like object that seemed to dominate the raised patch of ground it occupied. Inexplicably, it was standing upright and unscathed amidst the surrounding debris. The charred and broken crossbeams of once-proud houses that had survived innumerable apocalypses acted in no way to mitigate the splendor of its polished and unmarked golden frame, which was ornamented with strange sigils and indescribable forms that morphed too quickly for the eye to follow. The surface of the artifact was strangely fluid, reflecting the girl in the ruins, sunlit plains, dark caverns, and dusty bookshelves, somehow all at once. Through it all, the Other looked on as the girl approached.

She had clearly seen better times. Her pale frame was gaunt and hung on her bones as loosely as the ragged, torn black rags she wore as clothing. Every inch of bare skin was layered with dust and grime and her hands were smeared with a mixture of dirt and blood – a result of using them to catch herself when she stumbled over a wooden beam or the odd desiccated corpse, blackened, mercifully, beyond recognition. Each step she took was weaker and more labored; her breath came out in painful gasps. The Other smiled, savoring the taste of the power that flowed, invisibly, toward the mirror.

A dozen feet from her destination, the girl collapsed, her body wracked with coughs that stained her lips with dark liquid. I'm here, the Other told her, soothingly. Get up.

Slowly lifting her head to look at the mysterious artifact, the girl attempted to get to her feet, but fell back to the ground again, sobbing desperately. The Other reached out to her with a tendril of thought, a feeling of impending success and satisfaction. Soon, the Other promised.

Raising herself to her knees with quaking arms that threatened to give out completely at any moment, the girl began to crawl forwards, pulling herself along inch by trembling inch. Yes, the Other told her, unable to hide the triumph in the thought once the girl was kneeling within reach of the mirror. Take my hand.

Ever so slowly, the girl raised a quivering hand towards the shining surface as the Other did the same, somewhere else. A hairsbreadth before contact, the girl froze, looking at the object as if for the first time.

·~:~·

"Y-you look like h-her," she uttered, accusingly, staring at the woman she saw before her. The woman had an ivory complexion even paler than her own and was dressed in a skintight garment of black leather that accentuated her bosom and flaunted her curves. Her shoulder-length hair was black as a raven's feathers, and framed a face that –

Her eyes were uniformly dark, obsidian orbs devoid of light, of emotion, of life. There was no soul there.

The girl felt herself becoming lost in those eyes, in that terrible gaze, felt her mind begin to unravel. She felt herself falling – or was it flying? – purposelessly and without direction. Yes, the woman whispered, but you've never seen me before. Take my hand.

There was no resistance left in the girl's body. As her hand reached the mirror, it passed through the surface, only to be grasped by another hand, one infinitely more powerful. She felt a slight tug, and then the woman was there, looking down at her hunched form. It was over. Tears once again wound their way down her face, tracing familiar paths down her dirty cheeks.

"Shhh," the woman said. Her voice was oddly pleasing. The girl felt a cold hand brush the curtain of once-silky hair from her face and wipe the moisture from her eyes. She shuddered at the cool touch. "Don't be scared, Amy. It's time to go to sleep."

The sickening crack that followed a moment later echoed throughout the chamber for a full five seconds before petering off into silence. She didn't even get a chance to scream.