In the end, Willow decided to approach the matter as if she didn't know Sheila Rosenberg. She would call her, and address things as if she only knew the woman by reputation, which was disturbingly close to the truth, and she'd wait and see just how long it took for her mother to realize that the dismayed and appalled psych major was actually her daughter. If she realized that it was her daughter.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to get through the whole conversation without her mother realizing she was her daughter and deciding that this was 'just another phase' or some sort of 'cry for attention' or if she wanted her mom to recognize her voice. It might be easier to get the information out if her mother didn't know. But it would be a lot harder to deal with having that sort of confirmation that her mother knew so little about her life.

She made the call, introducing herself only as a concerned student at Sunnydale U. She said, truthfully, that she'd heard from her parents that Sheila Rosenberg had been able to get awkward but necessary information out before. Willow had confirmed that she'd 'found' some information now, awkward, and rather ugly. Information about illegal testing of drugs on students. Biological testing on kidnapped individuals that were probably mutants, though the files listed them as 'Hostile Sub-Terrestrials', and that the testing had resulted in deaths of most of the subjects. Files documenting the implantation of tracking chips and behavioral modification chips of varying degrees of effectiveness into unknowing individuals.

Sheila had been appalled at the things that she'd mentioned. Horrified at the depths that someone had reached, concerned for the unwitting recipients of both drugs and chips. Furious and horrified by the idea of so many 'mutants' being tested to death.

Willow didn't mention that she was sure most of the HST's had been demons, not mutants. She didn't think that really made things any better, and would prefer to not try to explain demons and magic and vampires to her parents. Even if her mom didn't know that it was her.

It had hurt when her mother had mentioned that she 'had a daughter that was just starting college, and she hoped would one day be as socially aware as you.' It had hurt more that her mom had thought she was studying computer science, and 'wasting her time partying with that Bunny girl'. She'd agreed to send the information to her mother's email address, and politely hung up the phone.

Then she'd picked up one of the cushions from the couch and pressed it against her face to muffle the scream. She wanted to throw something, to see things break and indulge in a horribly childish temper tantrum. Instead, she let herself scream into the cushion twice, and put it down, wiping at the tears.

Returning to her computer, Willow found a sheet of paper with unfamiliar handwriting. The decryption was still running, and Willow settled down, lifting the paper to read it.

Willow –

I'm off to help make sure everyone's ready to go soon. I'll feel much safer back at our school, where the dangers aren't things that jump out of the darkness and eat you. We need to make sure things are packed and ready to go in case things go sour, and that everybody is prepared, just in case they can't come back.

Scott will have to calm down about Joyce dating… though I think I agree with him. Some. Vic is a scary guy, with plenty of ugly things in his past – I wouldn't want Joyce to get hurt. Buffy will watch out for her though, and I think she could probably take him if he hurt her Mom.

Send the things to this email HMcCoy a Xaviers.gifted and he'll get it to some scientists and a reporter. It might not hurt to send them to CXavier a Xavier.gifted as well.

Jean

Nodding, Willow settled to finish the decryption. Once it was done, she'd send it to both of the emails that Jean had left, as well as two of the people that she'd been talking to for Giles from the Watcher's Council. They would have preferred to deal with Giles directly, at least at first, but Giles had more problems with computers than anyone she knew. More problems than Angel. More problems than Anya. Focusing back on the real issue, Willow started preparing two emails, one to send the decrypted information to her mother and Jean's people, and a second to send the same information to the two Watchers that she and Giles both felt placed the safety of the world and people above Council politics. Even if they didn't feel sorry for the demons at all – and it was very hard to feel bad that flesh-eating ghouls were dead – they would still agree that the things in those files were Bad.

One thing that Willow had learned in history class was that a bad idea didn't just crop up once and then vanish. Somewhere, there would be other people who had the horrible idea of experimenting on demons, if they hadn't already. It would be suggested by someone who didn't understand how dangerous it would be, and someone in authority who had even less idea of the angers would give approval, and then there would be a disaster. If she could get the information out, other people could help watch and try to prevent the disaster from happening.

The whole microchip thing was even more disturbing. Inserting microchips for tracking wasn't that new of an idea, she'd heard of it being done with GPS devices for vehicles and briefcases with important state secrets. She'd even heard about it for secret agents, though she was less sure if that was real or just amazing stories with just enough fact to sound real. But microchips to control behavior - scary. Really scary.

The information had to get out.

End part 72.

Tara put the last shirt into her suitcase, and leaned on it to zip it closed. She didn't want to leave anything behind. Not only because she wouldn't be coming back, but because if she did, it might be used to find her. She'd be able to use someone's shirt to find where they were now, and it would be stupid to assume that nobody else in her family could do the same. Not that Donnie or her father would ever admit to such an unnatural ability, but if they could find her, make her go back… It wasn't worth the risk.

Thinking of finding someone, Scott and Jean had been awfully worried about the blue woman. They'd called her Mystique, and had all sorts of fears about what she could be up to. Maybe she should try again to find her? Last time, the woman had been too far away, or hidden, or something to prevent a good image, but it wouldn't hurt to try again.

She picked up the paper that had the drawing of the blue woman, and focused on it. Tara tried to fill her mind with only two things – the image of this woman and a need to know where she was now. She was familiar with the light, floaty feeling that resulted, and concentrated harder.

The blue woman was standing in a dark room, with a blond man. Her hands were twisting over each other in the exact same way that her grandmother's had when Gran had been fretting over something. She appeared unaware of the fact that she was naked.

"Raven, you can't help her by tying your fingers in knots," the man smirked. He had a British accent.

"I wouldn't be fretting as much if we could travel in the daylight," the blue woman snapped, her voice sounding strange. But the worry in her voice was clear.

"If it's so damn urgent, why isn't Irene with you?" the man demanded, pulling a cigarette from his coat and lighting it.

"She couldn't. Irene isn't a young woman anymore, she hasn't been for a long time, William. Her health isn't what it used to be," the words were soft, as if they pained the blue woman.

"I haven't gone by William for over seventy years, Raven. You know that. Why did you bother to track me down?" He offered her a cigarette.

Ignoring the cigarette, Raven folded her arms, for the first time looking vulnerable. "I think she's dying, William. She's lost a lot of weight over the winter, and she didn't have it to spare."

"Dying? Renie can't be dying," he whispered.

Raven nodded.

"Bloody hell!" he roared, slamming his fist into the wall as his eyes changed to gold and his teeth became sharp fangs.

Tara gasped, the vision dissolving. Her head ached, and it felt like someone had been shouting right next to her. She didn't feel floaty anymore, more like light-headed and dizzy. That one had been exhausting, everything ached now.

"Okay, I won't try to look for you again, Raven Mystique," Tara whispered.

She decided to just sit on the edge of the bed for a little while and try to regain her balance. That vision had left her feeling entirely out of sorts, and it was a good thing that she could just sit still for a while and finish packing later. Going to Xavier's would be good for her. They would teach her, and nobody would think there was something wrong with her for being able to get the visions or for being a witch.

Even better, Charlie was going too. Charlie was pretty, and confident, and there was something about her that just seemed, well, magnetic. It was the way her eyes sparkled, the way she held herself…

Tara sighed, a tiny smile on her face as she admitted, "I have a crush."

Going to the new school with Charlie, where they would really only have a sort of idea who each other were and Scott and Jean… Granted, it didn't spell out romance, but it did give an opportunity to try to get to know Charlie better. Maybe she and Charlie could get closer. Maybe she'd find out if Charlie was as fascinating to kiss as she was to watch. Or maybe Charlie liked boys, and Tara would be disappointed.

At least she'd have a chance to find out.

End part 73.

Forrest Gates picked up the coffee and walked to the small table of the café. His Initiative duties were always after dark, and his cover-responsibilities as a teacher's assistant were done for now. The essays were graded, assignments and scores posted, and no lectures until tomorrow. He'd taken the chance to head out of Sunnydale for the afternoon.

Officially and to give a few verifiable facts to his reasons for leaving town, he'd gone to pick up a new set of shoes, some new parts for his car that weren't carried in Sunnydale, and to pick up some stuff from a natural food co-op. The one in Sunnydale had been closed for the past three weeks after the 'mystifying death' of the owner – he'd been found one morning, his throat torn out and most of the blood gone.

Nobody could blame a guy for stopping to get some coffee before heading back to the nightmare that was called Sunnydale. The fact that his coffee was at a little cyber-café was purely a coincidence. At least, that was what he'd tell anyone who asked.

It didn't take very long to log onto one of the computers. Even less time to create a new email account that he'd be able to remember but also held no connection to his name. The account only needed to last long enough to send one important email. God willing, it would get through and not be deleted or ignored. Before he'd been sent to Sunnydale, there had been a big scandal about a commander overstepping the bound of their orders, and it had prompted a series of lectures and papers for everyone. The idea had been that soldiers would have an appropriate channel to report incidents or suspicions of incidents, and that the leaders would know better, because they would be aware that they were being monitored.

Forrest sent the email, and offered up a prayer to whatever power might be listening up there.

Subject: Overstepped Boundaries

Sirs,

I am a soldier stationed at the Sunnydale Army Base, assigned to the Initiative Project. The leader of the scientific side of this project at the Sunnydale base is Dr. Maggie Walsh.

It is my fear that Dr. Walsh has overstepped the boundaries of her orders. In the last five months, the parameters of our operations have changed, becoming more aggressive and leading to more permanent actions against the targets. The directions of research carried out under her orders has also shifted, and the current average is a six day survival period after capture before the subjects expire during testing.

This does not match the previous protocols for the Initiative project.

Sincerely, A concerned soldier

He didn't dare use his own name. For similar reasons, he didn't want to use his own computer, or any of the ones at the base or university. He knew that emails could be traced, and that if you could figure out who sent one – or from where it was sent, then you could normally find the sender. Using his own name or computer would be painting a big target on his back. He didn't want to feel like this, but…

But Dr. Walsh had been doing and ordering horrible things. Vile, evil things. Things that couldn't have been authorized. And if they weren't authorized, then it would be best for her if nobody ever found out.

Which meant she couldn't learn that he'd reported his suspicions.

Let them track the email – it was a brand new free email on yahoo. There were thousands, millions of them. The name had no connection to his own, or to his appearance or location.

Let them track the computer. It was a publicly accessible terminal in a busy café. Hundreds of people used it in a week, and the only cameras that he'd seen were at the cash register and the door. It couldn't be traced to him.

He hoped this worked.

End part 74.