Her mom gets some sort of shipment of Nigerian(?) things-of-ritual and has to be dissuaded from hanging the ugliest mask ever up in the house. Looking at the thing gives Buffy the heebie-jeebies.

"Alright, fine, so it's not really the California aesthetic," says her mom laughing. "But really Buffy, just because you're not interested in tribal art doesn't mean it's evil."

(It's evil. Of course it's evil.)

Zombies crash a gallery event and her mom clocks one on the head with a ceremonial club-thing that's probably meant for head-clocking now that Buffy thinks about it. Ceremonial head-clocking. The problem with zombies, though, is that unlike vampires they just keep coming if you knock them down, and there's not a lot of zombie-rekilling equipment in the gallery.

"They are being reanimated by a demon called the Ovu Mobani. Keep them away from the mask!" Giles instructs on the phone. Buffy stares helplessly up at the wall of stupid tribal masks and the marching hordes of the undead and sighs.

"Yeah. Sure thing. No problem," she says. "Piece of cake." Not like there aren't tons of masks in here. Maybe her mother should put on a show about cultures that don't raise the dead.

She bars all the entrances and windows and plays whack-a-zombie with her mom for like half an hour before Giles calls back and suggests she take out the mask's eyes. (Still without specifying which one, of course.) She yanks the sketchy mask down from its place and snaps it in two at the eye-area and finally, finally the zombies vanish.

"Okay, cool," she says wearily. "I think that's it."

"That was exciting," says her mom, who sounds like she's never been less excited about something in her life. "I think I understand why the previous owners left." She sighs, sets the ceremonial club back in its case and dumps the broken mask (unceremoniously) in the trash. "I'll just… let everyone out of the storage room now."

"They trashed the canapés," says Buffy unhappily, she'd been looking forward to those. Oh well. Vanishing zombie corpses means they won't be vampires, right? Right. It's a win.

"Who were those people?" asks a slightly dazed looking man wearing a bowtie (a bowtie!) and Buffy's mom laughs self-consciously.

"Oh you know," she says. "This town and its gang problems." Someone suggests taking it up with the mayor and getting an increased police presence in the downtown area.

"I think we just need new alarm system," says her mom airily. "Buffy, dear, won't you see what sort Mr. Giles recommends?" (Giles, when asked, polishes his glasses and mutters something about Americans and their concept of art. Ms. Calendar chucks a pillow at him and calls him stuffy. Buffy decides to leave before things get gross.)

—

Willow tells her, downright joyfully, that Oz is going to have to do his senior year over again because he doesn't have enough art credits.

"I don't know why being in a band doesn't count," Willow notes, then shrugs. "That means we get him for at least one more semester! Isn't that great?"

"Super," says Buffy, who is trying not to worry about the state of her own credits or groan at the thought of Willow-and-Oz smoochies happening at random times in hallways for yet another year She is so over this single thing. "That's really great. Do you think he can get them all done in a semester?"

"I hope not!" Willow chirps.

—

Buffy dreams about Angel sitting in a coffee shop in the middle of a jungle. He's drinking a very big mug of blood and reading. She tries to will herself into the seat across from him, but instead Spike and Drusilla wander over and sit with him.

"Look what you've gone and done, you idiot," says Spike. "And we were having so much fun!" Angel sighs and puts his book down.

"You know, it wasn't my idea," says Angel. "Besides, I've been away a long time." He frowns. "How did you find me?" Spike gestures vaguely at Drusilla, who is staring dazedly at the ceiling.

"Don't you hear them whispering?" Drusilla asks. "They call for you, for both of you. Do you know why?"

"No," says Angel shortly. "Can't you leave me alone?"

"Now why would you say that, Angelus?" Spike asks. Angel takes his mug of blood and his book and moves to another table.

"Don't worry, love," says Drusilla to a scowling Spike. "He'll come back soon, just the way you like him. It goes around and around and around, but what is written down? It's down, down, down." She giggles, then suddenly she and Buffy are alone in the Bronze, lit only by votive candles along the walls.

"Hey, bring Angel back!" Buffy snaps, half at Drusilla and half at the dream itself.

"Oh, but it won't be me who takes him away," Drusilla answers, twirling in place in a way that makes her black lace veil float. "I saw it, you know. They need Angelus to make things go tick-tock, and it all hasn't been clicking together."

"I won't let them!" says Buffy. "Anyone who wants to take Angel's soul away has to go through me!" Drusilla laughs in her face.

"Do they?" she asks. "Or maybe they can go where you don't look. No one can look everywhere, not even the stars."

Buffy wakes in a cold sweat, but it's just three in the morning and there's school the next day so she forces herself back to sleep and dreams again, this time of the dark-haired Slayer. She's walking through an empty fairground in a thin blue dress. Buffy reaches out to her, and the girl jumps.

"You again?" she asks. "Why do I keep dreaming about you?"

"Because we're both Slayers," Buffy answers. The dark-haired girl blinks.

"Oh," she says. "Are you dead?"

"No," Buffy tells her. "I was for a little, while, so was Kendra, it's complicated, but there's three of us."

"Huh," says the girl. "Watcher's Council really fucked up, didn't they?"

"Kind of," Buffy agrees. "Aren't you cold?" The girl looks down at her dress and grimaces.

"I think it's dream-logic. More of a leather pants girl than the sundress type." The dream feels pointless, but maybe, just maybe there's something she can do here.

"My name's Buffy," she says desperately, and the dark-haired girl looks at her sideways.

"You're not supposed to do that, you know," she says. Buffy shrugs and folds her arms, vaguely aware of the fact that she's wearing clothes she doesn't own—torn up jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Dream-logic. (Maybe that's how the other Slayer dresses, because Buffy really is the sundress type.)

"Yeah well, I'm not a child of the Powers. I do what I want." The other girl raises her eyebrows.

"I don't know what that means," she says, then offers her a crooked grin. "Way more like what dreams usually sound like, though."

"I don't know what it means either," Buffy tells her, and the girl laughs so hard she has to sit down on the edge of a stopped carousel.

"Okay," she says. "I'm Faith. Is that what you wanted, blondie?"

"Yeah," says Buffy. "Okay. Faith. Listen, I need to–"

And then her alarm goes off. (Ugh.)

—

Willow tells her fourteen times that they can go off campus for lunch now before lunch finally rolls around and spends all of fourth period calculating how far they can walk to and have time to eat and come back without being late. It's a bit obsessive, and Buffy ends up tuning her out. Doesn't Oz have a van? Shouldn't she be bothering him with all of this?

"It just tastes like freedom," says Willow happily, bouncing on her toes at the edge of campus. She seems to be counting down the seconds. "We can leave!"

"Yeah, but like, you like school," says Jesse not entirely unreasonably. Willow rolls her eyes at him and then the bell rings to signal the official start of lunch and Willow sort of pirouettes off of the curb and into the street.

"Come on! We need to make optimal use of our time!" she calls. "If we jog at a constant rate we can get milkshakes!"

"I'm in," says Oz, who looks more than a bit amused by the whole thing.

(They get back to school exactly, by Willow's calculations, one minute and thirty-two seconds late. Willow tries and fails to look not upset by this.)

—

There are flyers up for the Official Sunnydale High School Extracurricular Wicca Club, which Ms. Calendar is apparently in charge of.

"Magic club?" Buffy asks her after school. Ms. Calendar is printing things and sorting them into disorganized piles. Buffy catches words like "pre-Christian Pagan Suppression" and "Murray-thesis on the Devil". Maybe it was true that couples who spend a lot of time together start to blend, because this looks a lot more like Giles-type stuff.

"Magic theory club." Ms. Calendar explains as she moves things around and taps a couple of buttons on her computer. "Given the Hellmouth and the apocalypse and the demon summoning and the cheerleading incident, Robin and I agreed it would be a good idea to give students somewhere safe to learn these things."

"Well, yeah," says Buffy. "Sort of figured we didn't have one for a reason, though. Dunno what reason." Sort of figured Giles would run this sort of thing. Why wasn't Giles running this thing, actually, instead of Ms. Calendar plotting behind his back over muffins with Principal Wood? Also when did Principal Wood become Robin?

"A 'people are stupid, burying their heads in the sand' reason," says Ms. Calendar. "The first meeting is on Thursday after school—You're welcome to come."

"Is Giles gonna come?" she asks. Ms. Calendar sighs and sets down a new stack of papers. This one is on trees, Buffy figures that is better.

"Nah. I think he's a bit gun-shy about the whole magic thing." Neither of them says it but Buffy is pretty sure they're both thinking about Eyghon.

—

She sees the dark-haired Slayer, Faith, at the Bronze that night. Faith's trashy dancing with a vampire, but she catches Buffy's eye across the room and looks so surprised that the vampire looks over too. He asks Faith something and she stakes him before he finishes his sentence before practically running over.

"Heya Blondie. Do I know you?" she asks, fake-casual. In person, she really is the leather pants type of girl, with dark lipstick and thick eyeliner. It's to make her look older, Buffy thinks. The Faith in her dream had looked barely fifteen, with a puppy-round face and big scared eyes. The makeup makes her look Buffy's age or even older.

"Yeah," she says. "Faith, right? I'm Buffy. Sundress type, dream logic aside." Faith stares for a long moment, then grins and grabs Buffy by the shoulders.

"You're real," she says. "Sweet. Okay. Sweet. Thought I was going crazy." She takes a deep breath and laughs quietly. "You and whatshername, Kendra. Three of us, huh?"

"Three of us," says Buffy. "Kinda nuts."

"You kidding, B?" says Faith. "We're gonna have so much fun!"

—

Everyone likes Faith. Buffy's pretty sure they like Faith more than they like her. Maybe it's because Buffy's never wrestled an alligator or rescued a bus full of nuns while naked. Maybe it's because they like Faith's leather pants. Maybe it's because Faith's Watcher is cool enough to go back to England for some sort of Watcher Event that Giles doesn't get invited to.

"It's probably because of the, the Eyghon thing," says Willow, then she goes pale. "Not that I think it's a good reason for him to to get invited to Watcher thingies! I think he's very—Giles is a great Watcher and the Council is stupid for doubting him!" Buffy kind of wants to kick her.

"What's an eye-go?" Faith asks, and Willow goes even paler, then goes pink, then puts her face in her hands.

"Not a problem," she mutters.

"Demon," says Buffy. "It's dead now. The Council's probably grouchy because he dealt with it without clearance." That's… almost true, if you turn your head and squint a bit. Faith nods and loses interest.

She's less not-interested when she meets Giles (who apparently really really wanted to go on that retreat and has been complaining to his girlfriend about it), and is even more interested when she meets Ms. Calendar.

"Didn't know Watchers could have girlfriends," she says, grinning really wide. "Actually, pretty sure the Council doesn't allow that." Buffy would love to see the actual fine print where it says Watchers can't have girlfriends. But that would require thinking about Giles and Ms. Calendar having…more than smoochies. Nope.

"Yeah well, the Council's in England," says Ms. Calendar dismissively. Giles hides a smile, takes off her glasses and adds:

"Yes, quite. The Council, er, well. Truthfully I, er, I do what I want." Buffy is totally convinced.

"That's the spirit, England," says Ms. Calendar, and kisses him on the cheek. Giles flushes, Willow makes a quiet awww noise, and Faith snorts.

"Yeah, we're badass," says Buffy, very aware of the little pink flowers on her miniskirt. "C'mon, Faith. Gotta tell the principal you're here."

"The principal? Does the whole town know about Slayers?" Faith asks.

"Yeah, except for how no," says Buffy. "Look, it's a mess. Welcome to Sunnydale."

—

Neither Principal Wood or Giles can get ahold of Faith's Watcher, so Buffy ends up calling Kendra instead of going out to lunch. (Kendra's Watcher really is a jerk, but there's no rule about Slayers communicating.)

"We had zombies," Buffy says. "Also I found her." And then she puts Kendra on speakerphone and the three of them put their heads together for an hour.

"Perhaps we could make a system of this," says Kendra. "To compare notes on our work each week?"

"I'm game," Buffy says, shooting a glance at Faith. The girl is staring at the phone as though she could will Kendra into the library with them, and for a moment she looks exactly like the scared kid from Buffy's dream.

"Yeah," Faith says distantly. "Sure. Sure."

—

Faith's Watcher isn't in England for a retreat. Faith's Watcher is dead, tortured to death by a vampire that's as old as the Master or older. The vampire's named Kakistos, and the name is enough to make Faith look sick. This whole thing comes out in the school parking lot in front of Ms. Calendar's VW Bug while Giles waves a book and talks about cloven feet.

"Fine," says Ms. Calendar. "Not the first ancient baddie we've taken out. Faith, you can stay at my place tonight, and tomorrow we'll see about tracking him down and killing him." Faith looks sort of floored.

"He–" she starts, but Ms. Calendar waves a hand to cut her off.

"Hey, I know what I'm doing, alright? And that thing will be looking for you, not me, so this is the safest way."

"Kakistos is a very powerful creature," says Giles, in a tone that suggests he knows he's already lost the argument.

"Yep," says Ms. Calendar. "But he's still a vampire. And we're going to kick his ass. That's what we do."

—

(Faith spends the night on Ms. Calendar's sofa, because there's safety in numbers. Also because, no way is Ms. Calendar going to let a teenage girl on the run from an ancient monstrosity crash in the sort of skeevy motel that's frequented by chaos worshippers.)

Buffy dreams she's sitting on a picnic blanket in a green field. She has a basket full of weapons, but also forks, and she knows she's waiting for someone. After a moment, Kendra joins her, and then Faith.

"Is this a talking to people dream?" Faith asks. They're all not wearing their normal clothes, Buffy realizes—she's in that damn dress again and Kendra and Faith have matching ones, one blue and one green.

"Yes, I think," says Kendra, and a butterfly alights on her nose. "Oh."

"This is interesting," says the armored woman, appearing out of thin air. "Quite, quite interesting."

"Are we having another apocalypse?" Buffy asks, and the armored woman laughs.

"No, none of that," she says. "It's quiet tonight. Perhaps not tomorrow, but tonight." She tilts her head, looking down at them. "What have you brought?"

The three girls empty out their baskets—stakes and knives and a crossbow and practice weapons. The armored woman shakes her head.

"That's not enough, not nearly enough," she says. Kendra sort of hugs Mr. Pointy. "Not for the battle. You cannot go forth as children."

"We aren't," says Faith. "We're not kids, okay?"

"How do you want us to go forth?" Buffy asks, brushing a dream butterfly away from her face. "I mean, you're here for a reason."

"This is a place of duality," says the armored woman. "Look forward and look backward. Stand together, but rely on yourself. It is never simple, and I cannot provide a simple solution, but if you turn far enough to the left you find yourself facing right."

"So you turn in other ways," says Kendra firmly. "North and South, East and West. Those are simpler."

"Yes," says the armored woman. "But a compass can be fooled. Chart your path by the stars and strike true before your are lost. It's time to wake up now."

—

Faith stakes Kakistos with a straight-up column, and then she stands there like she doesn't know what to do at all. Buffy remembers dying in cold water and sobbing uncontrollably into Angel's shoulder once the Master's bones were ground to dust, and she pulls the younger Slayer into a hug.

"You did it," she says firmly. "Struck true and stuff." Faith takes a shuddering breath and manages to giggle.

"Don't get sentimental on me, B," she says. (She cries six hours later, wearing Ms. Calendar's old pjs and a blanket and drinking warm milk with honey on Ms. Calendar's couch with all the windows covered up to keep the world out. Jenny Calendar may be the quintessential modern woman, but Janna Kalderash helped raise lots of younger siblings and cousins and Faith is only fifteen, after all.)

"Didja dust him?" Willow asks on the phone that night, and Buffy briefly considers taking the credit for the kill. Briefly.

"Faith did. She was badass."

"Oh," says Willow. "But I bet you softened him up for her."

"Put a stake in his eyeball," says Buffy honestly, and skips over the part where she also put a stake in his chest region but the stake was too small to take out something that old. Willow giggles.

"Bet he didn't see that coming!"

"Will, that was awful, go to sleep," says Buffy, fighting a smile.

"You could take turns in Disneyland," says Willow quietly, after a pause. "Or normal-person-land. All three of you. Vacations and things. I wonder if vampires can go on rollercoasters."

"Good night, Willow," she says. "Please don't dream about rollercoaster vampires."

And then she dreams she's riding a rollercoaster with Angel in a really big sunhat. Willow is operating it and keeps sending them on even bigger loops and yelling over the intercom that it's for research purposes.

—

That week, Ms. Calendar aggressively enrolls Faith in high school (as a sophomore), the Wicca Club has its first meeting (a success, except for the bit where Amy tries in vain to turn Andrew into a pumpkin), and Scott Hope asks Buffy out (after telling her she's impossible to track down and confirming she's not dating Xander. Or Faith, or Willow).

So it's pretty much a good week. Her first date with Scott is, on a whim, to the nearest planetarium, and she comes home with a book on star charts.

"Going sailing?" Scott teases.

"Maybe," she tells him. "Compasses can get messed up by magnets and things. Stars are always in the same place." It was probably a metaphor, but she could do with knowing her physical course too. After all, she wasn't the one who was a weird dream ghost thing.