Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nor do I own Battlestar Galactica. They are owned by Joss Whedon and Ronald D. Moore respectively. I merely play with their toys while they're away. Also, this series entirely ignores anything not directly mentioned in Battlestar Galactica, so ignore anything from Caprica. This was conceived before that, so I'm not letting it hamper my creativity.

The Slayer line was never meant to exist with more than one at a time. I recommend strict separation – separate Colonies entirely, preferably - between Miss Young and Miss Summer (and any successors) at all times.
-Report by Lena Brijesha to Quentin Travers. Lost in bureaucracy between Libran and Tauron.

A year ago

"How is she?"

Giles' voice filled the empty hallway of the Sunnydale's primary hospital as he and the gang came toward Angel, sitting alone, crouched outside the hospital room containing the two Slayers – light and dark, short and tall, Caprican valley girl and Gemenese street kid.

"She's fine," Angel said, standing up and facing the gathered gang. "She's asleep."

It was clear who Giles had been asking about; and Angel wasn't even thinking about the other one.

Oz looked at Angel, a look of confusion on his face, "Well, you seem alright too?"

Angel wrapped his arms around himself, looking down guiltily, "Yeah."

"What happened?" Xander asked, carefully trying to keep his own suspicions from bursting forward in anger.

Willow spoke, not letting Angel speak, "When we left her she was fine, did-"

"What about Faith?" Dawn's leveled voice interrupted, almost without emotion.

"Faith's out of the picture," Angel said, quickly, "Buffy put her in a coma."

Xander took a deep breath, "And?"

Angel shook, unwillingly, and wouldn't meet their eyes as he spoke hesitantly, "Buffy cured me. She made me, made me-"

"You fed off her." Giles' measured Tauron tones managed to fit more anger and resentment than would seem possible from even an entire Colony.

Angel looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes, and took a deep breath. His Aerilon brogue was much stronger than usual, "Yes."

"How much?" Giles said, accusingly, as Xander swallowed hard, and looked away from Angel, his eyes filled with hatred.

"She's gonna be fine," Angel said, a little defensively, though still with remorse.

"She won't be a vampire?" Willow asked, looking up at Angel as Oz moved over to Dawn, his hand calming a seething storm that clearly building in Buffy's younger sister. Dawn turned her head, looking over into the hospital room, back and forth between the two Slayers, as Angel responded –

"No, no, she didn't feed off me."

Xander shook his head, meeting the vampire in the eye, "Well, it's just good to know that when the chips are down and things look grim, you'll feed off the girl who LOVES you to save you own ass."

Angel said nothing, looking down again guiltily, as Willow, Giles, Oz and Xander's glares bored into him with various levels of disdain. He wasn't even able to look at Dawn.

"You'd better go, Angel," Giles said, curtly, "We'll watch over her."

Angel began to refuse, "No, I don't want to-"

Giles interrupted, his voice hardened, "The sun will be up soon." There was a hint of threat in his words.

Angel looked from the gang to Buffy, and then back to the gang. He nodded, looking down and, without a word, stalked from the hallway, leaving the Scoobies alone in the corridor.

The room is full. The other Slayer's apartment. She walks through the room, her arms crossed before her, looking at the cardboard boxes stacked everywhere. A cat jumps onto the bed.

You're making it?

Someone's gotta.

Who's going to look after him?

It's a she, the other corrects. And aren't these thing supposed to take care of themselves?

The other walks up behind her, stopping just before touching the elder one.

She looks at her, and the other turns away, crossing around it.

Higher powers guiding us?

I'm pretty sure that's not what I meant.

She's yours?

Probably not. But always yours.

She looks down, there's something I'm supposed to be doing.

Oh yeah, she says, a long way to go. Little Miss Muffet counting down from four, three, zero.

A flash. Redness. One eye. A tall blonde. A mushroom.

Great. Riddles.

Sorry. It's my head. The other stands in front of the broken window, looking out, A lot of new stuff.

She smiles at her opposite, fingering the cat. She looks at the cat. A flash of blue eyes, a green glow.

They are never gonna fix this, are they, the other asks her elder.

What about you? She is concerned for the younger one. Even after that.

Scar tissue, she says, turning around, gesturing at her head, it fades. It all fades.

What about you? She looks down to the bloody knife in the palm of her hand, and looks back up into the wound bleeding profusely, as its owner talks

You want to know the deal? She continues, human weakness never goes away. Not even his.

Is this your mind or mine? She smiles.

She laughs. Beats the frak outta me.

She also laughs, looking down. The other walks back to her, getting toward that time.

Weapons laid out on the table, next to her. How are you going to fit all this stuff?

Not gonna, she smirks, it's yours.

I can't use all of this!

Just take what you need. She puts up her hand, touching the blonde's cheek softly. You ready?

I don't know.

You will be. She touches the cat, picking it up and rubbing its stomach with her underhand. I'm sorry.

It's okay.

She puts the cat down, and it leaps to the floor. It looks up at the dark, and back to the light, and follows the blonde.

She walks to the doorway, and the other calls out to her.

Be back before dawn.

Present

Buffy looked up the corridor of the old Columbia-class Battlestar, the old relic of the Cylon War, being readied by her crew for action. There were crew – officers and enlisted – going back and forth through the ship. She looked to her sister, up a little ways, touching the ship's bulkhead. Feeling it.

They were with Tara and Willow, who were standing together, holding one another for comfort. Buffy regarded her best friend. Honestly, the revelation of Tara had shocked Buffy completely. Not to the extent that they did Xander, but they had still shocked her. Buffy had never even suspected that Willow liked girls. But, watching them, Buffy realized why Willow had chosen Tara. They fit together magnificently, being able to instinctively feel what the other was on an instant.

Buffy and Dawn had tagged along, a little illicitly, with Willow and Tara onto the ship. Willow and Tara had managed to get on because Tara was related to someone, or, something about the President wanting Willow with them. Buffy had, as usual, not really been paying any attention. But, why should she? It wasn't really that important why they were able to get onto the Battlestar. It was just something in her, that innate sense of the Slayer, that made her feel that she needed to be on the Battlestar Galactica.

Funny, that. Buffy had never even considered being military. Even before the Initiative fiasco. Even before she had been the Slayer.

The doors were pretty soundproof. But not to the point that they could hide anything from the Slayer. Her sensitive hearing could pick up the discussion in the next room.

"We are in the middle of repairing and rearming this ship. We can't afford to lose a single man off the line to start caring for refugees," said a rough, Aerilon man's accent from inside the room. It reminded Buffy, ever so slightly, of Angel.

"We have fifty thousand people out there," came the more measured tones of a Caprican. "Some of them are hurt. Our priority has to be caring for refugees."

"My priority is preparing this ship for combat," came the response. "In case you haven't heard, there's a war on."

"Colonel, the war is over. We lost."

"We'll see about that."

"Oh, yes, we will. In the meantime, however, as President of the Colonies, I'm giving you a direct order to provide-"

"You don't give orders on-"

"-souls and equipment-"

"-this ship!"

"Hold on, Colonel!" a third voice interrupted both of them. "At least give us a couple disaster pods, hmm?"

"Us?"

"Sir, we have fifty thousand people out there. Fifty thousand. Some of them are sick, some are wounded. Two disaster pods, Colonel. You can do that."

He paused. "Because you're the old man's son, and because he's gonna be so damn happy you and your cousin are alive. Okay, two pods. But no personnel. You get them yourselves, and you distribute them yourselves. And you are all off this ship before we jump back. Lee, you report to the flight deck. You're senior pilot now, Captain."

"Yes, sir."

Buffy walked quickly toward the sickbay with Tara. Dawn had stuck to Willow and, honestly, Buffy had been alone with Dawn for so long, she needed at least a short break. Tara was anxious, since she'd heard the rumor that her uncle had returned from his being lost somewhere in the Ragnar Anchorage. As they approached, Buffy's superhuman hearing could hear Colonel Tigh, the Aerilon from before, and the gruff tones of, apparently, Tara's uncle, talking.

"-this just gets worse and worse. Now the Cylons look like us."

"Down to our blood."

Buffy tempered the shock that would have appeared on her face with a measure of strength from the spirit of the Slayer. Well, it was just something new to be slayed.

"You realize what this means? They could be anywhere. Anyone."

"I've had time to think about it."

"So what do we do?"

There was a pause, "I don't know. How we doing on warheads?"

"Magazine two is secure. Three and four within the hour. Something else – Lee and Tara are alive."

Any response Commander Adama had intended to make was cut off with Tara's entrance to the sickbay, where she ran to him, with a cry of "Uncle Bill!"

He stood up, taking her hug quickly and in silence, though even Buffy could see the affection in Adama's stance and in his eyes.

After a long hug, Tara released him, and Adama and Tigh looked up to the short blonde with her. Before the question could be formed on his lips, Tara answered it.

"That's Buffy Summer. One of Willow's friends."

The Slayer was emotionless, empty. It was one of her defense mechanisms in a situation like this, but she acknowledged Tara's uncle, with a short nod.

Adama looked at Buffy inscrutably for a few seconds, before nodding almost imperceptibly back at her. His eyes were what drew Buffy's attention. While they were the same eyes as Tara, Buffy saw a stark contrast in the eyes of her uncle – William Adama's eyes were those of a veteran. Someone who had seen things no person should ever need to see, and too much. And, at that moment, Buffy was sure he detected the same thing from her. Buffy remained silent as she looked around while a short conversation, which Buffy didn't really pay attention to, took place between uncle and niece. When they had finished, with a last long look to Commander Adama's strong eyes, Buffy and Tara left him.