The Potentials are all together in one of the bedrooms in the back section of the bunker, bandaging their wounds and discussing their vocation. "So it's going to be one of us?," Madari asks.

"I think they're down to the final six, and one girl's gotta get chosen," Amanda guesses.

"Like the Miss America Pageant," Rona quips.

"I don't want to sound like a coward or nothing, but I hope it's not me," Fadila confesses. "And I don't think I'm the only one. Sure, I'll serve and I'll fight and do what I'm supposed to if it's me, but I'd kinda like to get back to waking up each day and not wondering if it could be my last."

"Almost forgot what that felt like," Rona adds.

"I don't feel that way," Kennedy dissents. "It's an honor to become a Slayer."

"I didn't say it wasn't," Fadila nervously clarifies.

"But it comes with a death sentence," Madari notes.

"It ain't like winning the Oscars," Rona points out to Kennedy.

"Everyone dies," Kennedy retorts. "But how many people can say that their lives made a real difference?"

"You want to become the Slayer?," Ariella asks.

"Well, yes. Don't you?" Taken aback by the question, Ella doesn't answer one way or the other.

"You think Faith and Buffy wanted do?," Fadila argues. "I mean, you know, after they were Slayers, you think they never wished they weren't? That just seems to me like the natural thing to think."

"Because they weren't prepared for it," Kennedy responds. "With us, it's different."

"I guess I wouldn't be disappointed if I wasn't the one chosen," Amanda concedes, trying to put herself somewhere in the middle. Barely thirty feet away, in a bedroom in the front section of the bunker, Giles is with Faith, Buffy and Willow.

"Faith's stake wasn't created merely to slay demons. Or so the writing on it appears to indicate. It was intended to create more Slayers. To widen the reach of the original spell."

"You're talking about the Potentials," Buffy concludes. "It was meant to help more of them reach their potential, so to speak?"

"That was the hope," Giles responds.

"And the priestesses didn't have the power to pull it off?," Willow asks.

"They never tried. The behavior of the Slayer after she acquired the sickle gave them pause. It reminded them of the demon origins of a Slayer's power, and of the inherent ability of all power to corrupt."

"You mean they chickened out," Buffy argues.

"They also ran into certain technical difficulties. The spell can only work in the moments after a Slayer has died while holding the stake. The magician must then take hold of the weapon and harness its energy before the Slayer's power has passed to another girl and before the demon who killed the Slayer has the chance to kill her as well. Hence, any attempt to carry out the spell would have been inherently impractical under existing conditions."

"So this is why you brought me into your little pow-wow," Faith comments, not liking where this conversation is going. Giles attempts to reassure her.

"Faith, as I said earlier today, the First cannot win so long as you are alive. If Nina kills you, she will use the device we saw today to capture your power, and there will never be another Slayer. This new information means we might stand a small chance of counter-acting her."

"You mean I will," Willow clarifies, feeling the weight of this possible burden.

"I hate having to discuss this, but we must prepare for all eventualities," Giles offers defensively.

"No. No, it's okay," Faith begins. "How else are we going to beat Nina? She's too much for the two of us."

"Perhaps you misunderstood me," Giles replies. "Your death will probably result in our defeat. It is something none of us wants to see come to pass."

"I get it. It's a longshot. But what shot do we have right now?"

"Faith, you can hurt her with that weapon," Buffy points out. "You already have. You're the only one who has."

"But can I kill her? Stake through the heart, she said ouch, but she kept right on going."

"If you can hurt her, then you can make her drop the sickle," Buffy argues. "And I can pick it up. Maybe we need both weapons to get the job done."

Giles attempts to explain further why he is not advocating Faith's death. "No one knows how long a Slayer interregnum lasts. Perhaps a few seconds. Or a few minutes. Or even a few hours. Therefore, even if Willow were able to pull this off, the girls could be long dead by the time they receive your power."

"Why did they go to so much trouble to hide this weapon?," Buffy asks. "Was the Council afraid of letting the power get out of their control?"

"Probably not. As both of you remember, a Slayer does not manifest her power until she has been put under great stress."

"That why she threw me in the path of that hungry vamp?," Faith asks.

"Yes. You received the power as a defensive response to a life-threatening situation."

"Like an adrenaline rush. Times a thousand," Buffy offers.

"More or less. So even if the power had been extended, the girls would not have been imbued with it until until a Watcher had exposed them to a demon attack, or perhaps if their village was sacked by barbarians, someone tried to rape them, or something of that order. In any case, Slayers beyond the control of the Council would have been quite rare. A far greater worry was that expanding the Slayer line would destroy it, that the dozens and dozens of Slayers they created would be the last."

"That's the least of our worries now."

"Faith, this isn't what any of us wants," Buffy assures her.

"Fine. I get that," Faith responds as she stands up. "Look, it's late. I'm gonna hit the hay." Willow, Giles and Buffy understand how tough all this must be to deal with. They leave her room. Willow rushes off to her own bedroom. She doesn't like the pressure of knowing that there may a moment when the burden of saving the world would fall entirely on her shoulders. Faith paces back and forth for a while. Then she sits on her bed and slowly twirls the stake in her right hand.

On Wednesday morning, Cordelia walks into Angel's room. "Good. You're dressed," she begins. "Not that I would find it horrible if you weren't. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's good you're up and awake, because there's something I need to tell you."

"Is this about why you're leaving?"

"No. It's about where I'm going. Senior year, I was accepted at Columbia. When the government took my parents and their money away, I deferred admission. Mostly just so in case my meteoric rise to superstardom didn't quite pan out, I'd have a reminder that I wasn't a complete failure. I never thought I'd actually enroll. It was mostly for pride. Which, when I came here, was kind of all I had."

"No it wasn't."

"Other than looks and talent, of course." Cordy jokes. "But how far can those get you?"

"It's been four years. Don't these things usually have a time limit?"

"I guess they liked my essay on what I'd been up to. Don't worry, Angel. I only included the parts that wouldn't make them think I was crazy. Which means I kind of did a lot of lying. But the sort or lying where your heart's in the right place. I wanted them to know that I'd made good use of my time. Except for most of the past year, but you know what I mean."

"I do. You've grown into quite the hero. And quite the woman." This makes Cordy tongue-tied for the moment. "So was this what you were busy doing your first week back?"

"Except for a little shopping." Now Angel's a little tongue-tied by the thought of losing Cordy. "Angel, it isn't easy for me to leave you. And everyone else. You're like family, except less manipulative and a lot more dependable. But I have to make a fresh start, in a fresh place."

"I understand. Doesn't mean I approve. But it's not my call."

"I guess it's hard to continue living in a town after you've rained fire down on it. That doesn't mean I'm giving up on helping people. I'm sure their are plenty of helpless people in Manhattan."

"LA's loss is the Big Apple's gain. At least you still have a couple months before classes start."

"I'm leaving tonight."

"What? Why?"

"There's a summer course being taught by this writer I really like. Plus, I want time to settle in before the fall semester."

"Do you even have a place to live?"

"A friend's letting me stay at her place. I'll find something in a couple weeks. I'm sure it won't be as nice as my place here."

"You could luck out and run into a vampire with a rent-controlled apartment."

"You know of any?," Cordy asks with a smile.

"I did. But that was a long time ago. I was just kidding." Cordy looks disappointed. "You'll do fine. You're too tough not to." Angel gets agitated by Cordelia's news. "Why can't you stay a little longer? At least until things settle down here."

"I did. But now that you killed Mal, things are as settled as they're gonna get. Everyone's safe. Connor's home. He almost likes you. Things are finally the way they should be."

"No they're not. You're leaving."

"I didn't say things are perfect. They can't be. Especially for you." There are a couple seconds of uncomfortable silence as Angel declines the chance to tell Cordy his own surprising news. "I should go and tell the others." She leaves. Angel sits down and broods over all the things that are on his mind at the moment.

"Where's Fred?," Cordy asks Gunn and Wes when she gets downstairs.

"It's nearly eleven," Wes notes. "She's usually in by now." Fred walks through the front door with Graham. Their jaws drop.

"Who's Fred's new stud?," Cordy wonders.

"Graham?," Gunn says in disbelief.

"What the devil is he doing here?," Wesley adds.

"Did you people make new friends while I was evil?," Cordy asks them.

"He helped us out during the blackout," Gunn responds.

"Graham's military," Wesley explains.

"Like your Kelly girl?"

"Kelly's currently in the private sector. Much like us, except with slightly less risk and far better pay. Apparently, there's great demand overseas for – "

Graham leaves, Fred walks over, and Cordy and Gunn focus on her. She seems quite chipper. "Looks like someone got up on the right side of the bed this morning," Cordy says, cutting Wesley off. He also looks at Fred.

"Ah guess," Fred replies, not quite sure what all the fuss is about.

"You and G," Gunn adds. "That's quite, well, sudden."

"Out of the blue," Wesley comments.

"Why's this any of your business?"

"I'm sorry," Wesley instinctively replies.

"Didn't mean nothin' by it," Gunn assures her.

"It's the polite thing to do when a friend comes to town." Now they're confused.

"Polite," Cordy repeats. "That's usually not a word I use for this sort of thing. Unless it wasn't very good." Fred finally gets it.

"You people are sick!"

"There's no need to get judgmental," Wesley replies.

"After everything that's happened, ya'al don't even have the right."

"Since when did curious count as judgmental?," Cordy asks, defending herself.

"There's nothin' to be curious about. We had dinner, we talked, we had breakfast. We talked some more. He slept on the couch."

"Is he gay?," Cordy wonders.

"Cordy!"

"Sorry. But to pass up an opportunity like that." The thought of such an opportunity agitates Wesley.

"Graham's a nice guy."

"How long is he is town?"

"Until tomorrow."

"So there's still time," Cordy concludes.

"Time for what? Oh. Cordy, it's not like that."

"Well it should be. Why let the guys have all the fun?"

It's the night before. Wes and Kelly lie side-by-side in bed, catching their breath. "That was transcendently sublime. Am I being redundant?," Kelly asks with a laugh.

"In this instance, certainly not. A tad understated, perhaps. It is unfortunate that it takes a catastrophe to bring us together."

"Seems I only get to nail you after a state of emergency's been declared. Wonder what it would take for us to start dating?"

"An apocalypse, I'm afraid." They both laugh. "Bloody hell. It's already ten. You have a ship to catch in two hours."

"Which means we still have half-an-hour."

"I'd hate for you to miss your ride and lose your job because of me. Granted, it would certainly be something to brag about. But it's a two hundred kilometer drive."

"It's easy to be a pessimist when you're using metric," Kelly jokes.

"Is that why you Americans are so bloody chipper?," Wesley quips.

"That, and I have a government car with government plates, which means I'd have to drive like Dale Ernhardt at Daytona before the cops will give me a ticket."

Wesley turns his head to the right and runs his right hand through Kelly's hair. "I have a confession to make."

Kelly takes his right hand in her left and stares at his face from a foot away. "Wow. Guess this means we almost are dating."

"Last week, when Angel was gone, and we were battling Mal, I stayed up late one night working with Fred. And I was severely tempted to sleep with her."

Kelly laughs. "You lusted in your heart? That's your idea of a confession? So long rogue demon hunter. Hello Jimmy Carter."

"Does that mean my honesty causes you to see me as less of a man?"

Kelly thrusts her right hand under the sheets and smirks as Wes gasps and smiles. "Not yet."

"I'm trying to be serious."

Kelly takes her hand away. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Ever," he jokes before getting serious again. "You've always known how I feel about Fred. And the further we get involved, the guiltier I am. I feel like I'm using you."

"Were you a boy scout?"

"Yes. But I don't see how that pertains to the present – "

"You still are."

"I see. So this doesn't bother you?"

"Long as you're not thinking of her when you're with me." She rolls on top of him. "For instance, are you thinking of Fred right now?"

"Certainly not," he responds as his breath quickens.

"And what are you thinking of now?," she asks as she nibbles on his left earlobe and he puts his arms around her.

"Your skin. So, very, smooth." She sits up. His lips quiver.

"How bout now?," she calmly asks as he gets a good look at her naked torso.

"Were we talking about something? I can't quite remember."

Connor's in the empty ballroom in the sub-basement with Elijah, who's tinkering at the upright piano. "Where's Kit?," Connor asks.

"At school. You know, the parochial school that's letting us use a bunch of their empty classrooms."

"How come you're not there with her?"

"I'm a senior. For us, the last month's mostly goofing off. We're not missing anything. It was very convenient how the Hellmouth waited till we finished our AP exams before flattening the town."

"So how come you're not with her?," Connor asks again. "I mean, I like you, but I'd ditch you for Dawn in a second."

"Why should I go? So I could wait forty minutes while she's in class, see her for five minutes, then wait another forty minutes? I'd feel like the suspiciously lurking older boyfriend. Anyway, I see her plenty after school."

"Must be great living together."

"Not together. In the same building. And with our parents. It's like going on a class trip where everyone's parents come along as chaperones. We can be together all the time, but never together and alone."

"You can use my room."

"Sure. That'll scare Kit away." Connor's confused. The idea of two human beings dating for an extended period of time before sleeping together is alien to him.

"Why? She loves you, right?" To Elijah, the idea of two kids being in love after only dating for a few weeks is alien to him.

"Don't know. Haven't asked her that specific question."

"Don't you love her?"

"I like her. A lot. But, Connor, remember when I said you were a really intense guy?"

"No."

"Actually, what I said was, you go straight from neutral to fifth gear. I guess you didn't get it, probably because you don't drive. You're like those drag racers we saw on tv. You know, with the big tires and the smoke and the parachutes?"

"The sprint cars."

"Yeah. That's you. The rest of us are like regular cars on the road. We take a lot longer to get up to full speed." He plays some pentatonic scales on the black keys before segueing into "Ol' Man River."

"Life moves fast."

"Yours faster than most."

"Can't wait till tomorrow. Everything could change by then." Part of this comes from events Connor has experienced as well as caused. A lot of it comes from Holtz's stories about returning home one day to find his family dead. And some of it comes from his experience with vampires. One moment they're immortal, the next they're dust. All of this has taught Connor to see life not as a gradual progression of interrelated events but as a series of sudden shocks.

"It's a good line when you're about to be shipped to the front," Eli jokes. Naturally, this reminds Connor of Nina and Dawn and how both of them were in Sunnydale.

"Gotta go. Business. Gonna see if they need me. Catch you later." Connor leaves. Eli tries playing Thelonius Monk's "Epistrophe." Upstairs, in the lobby, Keith and Lucas walk up to Connor.

"Hey Connor," Keith says.

"Hey guys," Connor nervously replies, avoiding eye contact.

"Have you been avoiding us?," Lucas asks.

"No. Just been busy."

"You know, don't you," Keith asserts.

"Yeah. Guess I do." Connor tries to make eye contact and to not appear callous or casual. "Molly and Rose are dead. I'm sorry." They both look crushed, but not surprised, as if they were expecting this. "I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry."

"How did Rose die?," Lucas inquires.

"I don't know." This was the truth. He didn't know the specifics.

"Did someone kill Molly?," Keith enquires. "Who was it? How did this happen?"

"I, I'm sorry. I don't know. They were both very brave." Connor pauses for a few seconds, not knowing what to add. Then he walks into the office. He knows how futile it would be to try to explain the battle against the First Evil. And he's more used to experiencing loss himself than comforting others who are experiencing it. Inside the office is Fred. "Where is everyone?"

"Wesley and Charles are downstairs cleaning and collating the weapons. Cordy's upstairs packing."

"Packing? Why?"

"Oh. Oops. I'm sorry. She didn't have a chance to tell you yet?"

"Tell me what?," Connor asks, dashing out of the office before Fred has a chance to answer the question. Meanwhile, Lorne is in Angel's room.

"How would you have felt if she came up here when we were dealing with the Beast?"

"That's different."

"Much uglier, from what I've heard. Back home the drawings of Nan-na made her look like Angelina Jolie, only slightly less psychotic. Would that be on the mark?"

"I'm sorry Lorne. I would have checked her out, but I was too busy getting eviscerated. The Beast didn't come after Buffy. She didn't kill its lover."

"He was anatomically incorrect. And made of stone. But that's all beside the point. Buffy will feel insulted. Just as you would if she came here to lend you a hand."

"This is bigger than anything she's ever faced. Bigger than anything I've ever faced. I think that right now she'd put aside ego and welcome the help."

"What help? Angel food, you folks threw everything you had at her, and it did bubkus. I'm sorry, but my gut tells me this is a Slayer thing. It's their fight. Just like the Beast and Mal and a thousand other things have been your fight."

"Then they won't need us. It doesn't hurt to be there. And it might do some good. I don't see any harm in going."

"Once you got your heart set on something, I know there's no getting you to change your mind. But please promise me you'll soft-pedal the Angel To The Rescue' angle."

"Buffy doesn't need a White Knight. But she needs me."

"Oh dear. Oh no you don't. Now is not the time for you and Spike to reprise the whole Butch and Sundance act. Dissension in the ranks is never good on the eve of battle."

"I can't talk to her because Spike might act childish?"

"Sadly, not everyone can handle the presence of ex-boyfriends as maturely as you did," Lorne sarcastically responds, alluding to Angel's exiling of Cordy when Groo came to town. As Lorne leaves Angel's room, Connor enters Cordy's.

"You're leaving," Connor states, mildly annoyed in a self-centered adolescent way.

"I wanted to talk but I couldn't find you."

"I was downstairs with Eli."

"The merry prankster. I wasn't crazy about him at first. But if he's willing to give you and your bizarro world the benefit of the doubt, I'm willing to do the same for him. No matter what Angel says."

"What does he say?," Connor inquires suspiciously.

"Nothing specific. He just worries that boy will introduce you to dangerous new things like, well, all the normal teenage stuff your horrific upbringing saved you from. Angel's being a dad. That's what they do. They worry. When they don't worry, that's when you know something's wrong with them."

"Or when they leave. People I like keep doing that to me." Cordy walks up to him.

"Connor, my leaving has nothing to do with you. I swear."

"I know. But things just got back to how they should be."

"And it's great that we've had this time to set things straight. To finally be ourselves. But I don't have a future here."

"Because you don't have visions? That's lame."

"It's a lot more than the visions. A lot. I nearly got myself killed. I'd be dead now if it wasn't for Willow's sadist streak. It's strange. We each go evil, the world nearly gets destroyed. We go evil together, everything ends up hunky dory. Two wrongs really can make a right."

"But that won't happen again. And we need you. Angel's miserable without you. Okay, more miserable," he adds with a smirk.

"You're looking out for him? Guess my work really is done," Cordy jokes.

"Where are you going?"

"New York."

"How far away is that?"

"About three thousand miles."

"How far away is that?" Abstract measurements of distance mean very little to Connor. "Is it farther than Sunnydale?"

"About thirty times farther."

"Oh." Connor realizes that's quite a trek. I'll still try to visit. I really want you to meet Dawn. You two have a lot in common."

"Like sleeping with you. I'm sure she'd just love me to remind her of that."

"I meant the visions."

"Then we can talk about how well those worked out for me. Connor, I know you mean well in your own adorable, naive way. But I'm not someone she's exactly dying to meet."

"You know she's not really Buffy's sister."

"I didn't say she wasn't without her good qualities. Otherwise you wouldn't be so obsessively crazy about her. Connor, you have to understand, it's not that I wouldn't like to meet Dawn. I don't think she wants to meet me. No girl likes to be reminded she wasn't the first."

"She attacked you. She didn't come after you. There's a difference. Fine. You want to drop by, I can't stop you." Buffy hangs up, frustrated by his stubbornness.

"What was that all about?," Spike inquires.

"Angel wants to pay us a visit tonight. He wants to help."

"Help with what, exactly?," Spike adds suspiciously.

"What do you think?," Giles asks sarcastically.

"I wus thinking that it couldn't be Nina, cuz he did such a bang up job against her on his own pitch. What makes him think an away match would go any better?"

"Did Angel say he was coming here alone?," Dawn wonders.

"Yes, he's bringing his friends," Buffy concedes.

"What about family?"

"And, I suppose, Connor." Buffy sighs with disappointment as Dawn smiles with glee. "It's probably not safe to leave him home all alone." Dawn scowls at the insult.

"This is just the soap opera distraction we need on the eve of the biggest battle of our lives," Xander offers.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Spike concurs, shocked that the two of them are in agreement.

"Do the prophecies say anything about outside help?," Anya asks Giles.

"No," he curtly replies before slamming the book shut. "But what good are prophecies anyway?"

"Guess that story doesn't have a happy ending," Willow concludes. "What is the ending?," she asks nervously.

"Purposefully vague and none-too-helpful."

"Meaning what?," Buffy wonders, concerned about Giles's mood.

"Meaning that the narrative was never linear, and therefore the ending isn't really the ending." Buffy grabs the book and opens to the last page.

"Okay, anyone else here know Latin?" Willow takes a look.

"I think the last line's in Spanish. I knew I shouldn't have taken German in high school. No one ever writes a mystical text in German."

"I too Spanish. I mean, I do," Dawn says, taking hold of the book. "Okay. It's in the subjunctive tense, which makes sense. World peace. That's not bad. The living something the deceased. I can't make out that last verb."

"The world shall be at peace. The living will envy the dead," Giles explains. Everyone gets chills up their spines.

"What was that first part again?," Xander asks.

"Could the world be at peace if the First Evil won?," Willow wonders.

"Temporarily," Anya assumes. "Things always seem great the moment before they go to hell. And the First does have a knack for fooling people."

"But if they're happy, why would they wish they were dead?," Dawn asks.

"That part could just be about us," Spike pessimistically guesses. "Those of us who make it." Buffy glares at him. "I'm not the rainbows and moonbeams kind of guy."

"Screw the stupid book," Buffy declares. "We've made it through prophecies a lot more specific than that. Are their any specifics? Does it name names?"

"Nina's," Giles responds.

"But none of ours?"

"No."

"What does it say about her?," Willow asks. Giles checks his notes.

"That she can be killed. By Five. Something to do with the number five."

"Five by five?," Faith asks hopefully.

"Five by six, actually. But it doesn't get any more specific, or lucid, than that."

"Six Potential Slayers," Faith notes. "But who are the five?"

"You, me, Spike, Willow," Buffy begins. "And Giles."

"If I have anything to do with killing Nina, I'll be as surprised as her," Giles darkly jokes. "Buffy, I think you were on the right track before when you said we shouldn't pay attention to predictions that are too vague to be useful. Our lives, our fate, have always been in our hands. And in our hands only."

"We're going to Sunnydale," Angel announces to Wes, Gunn, Fred and Connor.

"When?," Wesley asks.

"Tonight."

"I thought you said the big fight's tomorrow morning," Fred points out.

"In which case, you ain't gonna do much good," Gunn adds.

"For all we know, it might happen indoors. If Spike can take part, there's no reason I can't."

"Has Buffy agreed to this?," Wesley asks. Angel's silence confirms that she hasn't. "I see."

"You have a choice. Any of you who want to stay here and do nothing, raise your hand."

"You don't defy a commander on the eve of battle," Wesley argues. "Better to offer no help than offer help she doesn't want."

"We have to help," Connor declares. "We already made things worse by killing Mal and making Nina even madder. We owe them."

"How can you be sure we didn't do them a favor by killing him?," Wesley retorts. "If Mal had killed us, there's every reason to believe he'd be in Sunnydale helping Nina at this very moment."

"Speaking of Nina, the last time I checked, we hit her with everything we had and it didn't make a damn bit of difference," Gunn reminds Angel.

"Do we have anything better to do?," Angel asks rhetorically. "It's not in my character to sit back and do nothing. And I didn't think it was in any of yours, either. The rest of you can stay here. But I'm going."

"Me too," Connor announces. Angel loves these rare instances when his son agrees with him, even if he may be agreeing for the wrong reasons.

"Well, if ya put it that way," Fred responds, "It kinda makes it sound like if she kills ya'al down in Sunnydale, we wouldn't stand a chance."

"They don't call it a fait accompli for nothing," Wes concedes.

"Remember when we came back from Vegas, and I said no road trips for at least six months?," Gunn recalls. "It's been six months. What the hell. Count me in."