A/N: The gasp Buffy makes in "Prophecy Girl" when Xander and Angel have all but given up on the CPR was the "whoa" moment that made me start on this fic. I started thinking, "what could have possibly happened to her?", "did she see something?", "maybe she met someone."

Everything is pretty much canon up until "Revelations". But, hey, this is my AU and all deviations are "intentional". Faith's birthday is the 14th of December 1981, so she is 11 months younger than Buffy.

Rowan is... based on a comic book character and one cover illustration in particular that captivated my imagination. His inclusion is part of a natural progression from "maybe she met someone".

26,500 years before present, Selenia

A'Rowane Than'Shea regained consciousness with a feeble groan of pain. He managed to open his eyes by the width of a hair and saw a cracked ceiling with a few blinking light-rods above him. The stench of blood invaded his nose and he felt a massive weight on top of him that was pinning him against the floor. As he tried to turn his head to survey his surroundings, the sudden, sharp pain made him almost lose consciousness again.

'I'm still alive,' was his first coherent thought as he closed his eyes to regain a modicum of control. On his next attempt he was able to see that the weight on top of him was a body which was in turn being weighed down by a collapsed wall. He had to have lost consciousness again from the effort, though, since the next he knew, someone was shaking his shoulder.

"Commander, please wake up. Please!" he heard an urgent voice close to his ear.

A'Rowane tried to form a reply but something sounding like "wstfgl?" was the only sound he was able to produce.

"Oh, thank the Light you're alive, Framadar!" There was an audible relief in the voice. "Please, hold on. I'll get you out of there." Gradually the weight on top of A'Rowane lessened somewhat as the collapsed section of the wall was little by little moved aside. The body on top of him soon followed.

"Whistler?" A'Rowane was able to whisper now that he could draw breath again.

"Yes, Sir!" the person identified as Whistler replied.

"Wh-what happened?" A'Rowane asked. He remembered entering their makeshift field command post and then... nothing.

"There was an explosion, Sir. And it seems that... Sir, we appear to be the only survivors. I had just stepped outside when the blast threw me against a tree. Before I lost consciousness, I heard a few voices receding in the distance. And, Sir... I... I think one of them was the... your... Sir, I'm pretty sure it was Aryane."

"She...," A'Rowane started, feeling a coldness creep up his spine. 'She what? Couldn't possibly have betrayed us? Must be the victim of a set-up?'

"Sir?"

'Oh, Aryane,' A'Rowane sighed inwardly in awful realization. 'Despite everything I still managed to underestimate the full depth of your ambitions. The influence you had and level of loyalty you inspired among the Companions were always...'

"The other teams?" he asked hesitantly, fearing the answer.

"I haven't been able to contact... her yet, Sir," Whistler answered. "Maybe you…?"

"Yes, and well done, Paygan. Now: heal me."

"Gladly, Sir."

"Aurora?" A'Rowane asked quietly sometime later in the same half-intact room.

Whistler had been able to procure him a somewhat clean white robe and a headband to keep back his shoulder-long black hair – now sticky with dried blood. It was a definite step-up from his blood-drenched and torn field uniform. His jewelled wristbands, which denoted his rank, were beyond repair; not that it mattered in the present circumstances, or, most likely, anymore, ever.

Whistler had also healed him to the best of his ability which meant that he could painfully move around and had maybe half of his mental and physical faculties available. He was now revitalized to such a level by the demon's healing that his own spirit would be able to repair, slowly but still, the damage to his body. It had to suffice, for now.

The pain his body was experiencing was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Aryane had betrayed them, the last one he would have thought capable of that. Had he been careless and missed some vital clue? Had he been too focused on their specific task and paid insufficient attention to other factions with a vested interest in the outcome of their mission? But an explosion? That didn't make any sense. Aryane alone could have used any of the Elements to level the place several times over without any external aid. That would have to wait, though. Aryane knew their plan through and through, and if she managed to alert the... other side, everything would be lost.

He let his gaze circle around the room. Now that the Paygan had removed the bodies of the rest of command team from the room, the only physical evidence of the recent massacre still remaining was the collapsed wall, the demolished furniture and the dark, multi-coloured blood stains on the floor and still-standing walls.

The body which had been lying on top of him belonged to Fiderrich, the Mok'tagar demon who insisted on coming with them on this mission as his bodyguard – a job the fierce but kind demon had taken very seriously. Fiderrich had fulfilled his job to the letter, shielding A'Rowane with his own body from the explosion and the building's collapse. In the end, not even the vast regenerative powers Fiderrich's kind possessed were able to save himself. The loss of the Mok'Tagar was especially mournful; the demon had been totally devoted to Aryane and him.

'We still have time, though,' A'Rowane thought grimly, 'Not much, but hopefully enough. It all depends on...'

Suddenly a hazy sphere of bright white light appeared in front of him.

"Rowan?" came a soft female reply from the sphere.

A'Rowane released the breath he hadn't noticed he was holding.

"We're on-duty, darling," he chided gently but his large almond-shaped eyes were smiling.

"Well, excuse me, Framadar!"

He couldn't help but laugh at the Sylph's perfectly delivered outrage. He had never found out if she could actually feel outrage, or any other feelings for that matter. Even if she didn't, she could fake them like a master. They had come a long way together, Aurora and he. He would be sad to see it end. It was inevitable, though, whatever the outcome. His mirth ended with a grimace as his ribs reminded him of their half-mended existence. He had to lean forward for support from a half-broken chair as he felt a wave of nausea take over him.

He was interrupted by the sound of a delicate cough at the door. He turned slowly and saw Whistler carrying a few rations and a container of water. It was a sign of his overall state that he had not been able to sense the demon's approach.

"Hello, Wiz!" Aurora called happily.

Whistler's ears flared deep red as he entered the room and laid the comestibles he had been able to salvage on a nearby table which appeared to be in a slightly better condition than the rest.

"She's always had a soft spot for you, Paygan," A'Rowane smiled.

Whistler mumbled something unintelligible, but the warm hue of his aura revealed that he was not altogether unresponsive to the Sylph's "feelings".

A'Rowane sighed and lowered himself slowly in the wobbly chair. He winced inwardly in pain. It would be a while before he could suppress the sensation; he hated that. He took one of the rations and gestured for Whistler to sit down.

"Aurora, status report. Paygan, you better eat as well," he ordered.

"Yes, Sir!" both Aurora and Whistler answered simultaneously.