Summary: Prophecies are a force that just can't be stopped - and when people start getting resurrected, you know that it's gotta be big.

Feedback: Yes!! Any kind is fine, even flames.

Disclaimer: Ats and Btvs belong to Joss Whedon, not me! Don't sue!!

Note: This chapter has a lot of parts. Sorry if you get confused. If you read the title, you'll know why. I had to show the stages. Anyways...

Chapter 1 – The Stages Of Waking Up

Awareness, to them, was intangible. It seemed to be there, but at the next second, was not.

Am I alive?

The woman found it hard to ask even the simplest questions. As soon as she asked, the thought floated away, and she had to ask again.

Am I alive?

Am I alive?

Am I alive?

And then, something new.

Who am I?

That, she knew the answer to.

I am Jenny Calendar.

The halls of the new Los Angeles Teen Center were profoundly still. Anne walked through each section of the building; her hands open, lightly caressing each wall she passed. She could imagine great things happening here. It was going to work. Troubled lives could be turned around, just like hers had.

She passed by an empty room full of furniture Gunn and her had brought in earlier when he'd come to help. It was mostly just office equipment – wooden desks, office chairs, file cabinets, bookcases... the cheap but sturdy stuff. The shelter didn't get that many donations, and she didn't want people to get suspicious. Some people were already asking her where she'd gotten the money to pay for the part-time psychiatric staff and the new building.

Wolfram & Hart had the expensive stuff, she knew. The one time Gunn had let her come and see him in his impressive corporate office, she'd seen the shiny desk and plush carpeting and wondered why the world seemed to care about people who didn't need help more.

She frowned. She was supposed to be silently celebrating the upcoming opening of the shelter, not brooding about things she had no control over. Moments later, she walked out of the room in the same calm and hoping mood she was in before, her hands caressing the walls again.

Touch. Feel.

The man soon learned that he had skin. And through that, he found that he was not alone. Others surrounded him, one person in particular.

A woman, he could tell, using his newfound sense of touch. She felt familiar.

I know you, he said to himself.

Sound. He'd made a sound. He tried again.

"I know you. Fred. You're Fred. Winifred."

He could see her. She was next to him, eyes closed, but apparently she had a sense of touch, too. While he stared, her warm hands unsteadily moved across his skin.

Then she opened her eyes, and she recognized him.

"Wesley?"

There were too many people seated around the large oval-shaped table. Angel, Gunn, Illyria, and Spike were cramped together on one side, while the Buffy, Faith, Xander, Willow, Andrew, and Dawn were cramped together on the other side. Empty spots that should have been there weren't. Angel wondered if they had already started moving on.

"Ahem, ahem," Andrew stood up and knocked on the table with his fist, judge-style. "This meeting is now in session. I think we should start by introducing ourselves. I'm Andrew..."

Spike grabbed Andrew's face and pushed him down. "That's wonderful," he commented sarcastically. "Sit down, wank-off"

Andrew pouted but said nothing else as he pulled out an X-Men notepad and a pencil.

Angel glanced across the table at Buffy. She looked sickly, but not because of the disorienting translocation spell the covens had performed.

She had seen real war, and it showed on her face. It was nothing compared to the Hellmouth. It didn't end with half the fighters fading into dust when you stuck your sword in them, and most of the heroes emerging relatively unharmed out of the ruins. It ended with you standing knee deep in severed heads, dropping tears for the many people you cared about and couldn't protect.

All around the table, people stared off grimly. They stared blankly at the table, at their hands, at everything without seeing anything. No one talked. Someone sniffed.

"Why are we idling here?" Illyria asked harshly.

"We're wallowing," Xander replied, "Haven't you ever wallowed, blue...lady? Demon?"

Illyria's icy blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "I am Illyria, god-king of the primordium-"

"Ex-god-king," Spike interrupted.

Illyria turned her eyes from Xander to Spike. "If I was not already bored of maiming and killing lower beings like yourself, you would have not even had the chance to interrupt."

"What's a god-king?" Dawn whispered to Andrew. He shrugged.

"What happened to Fred? And Wesley?" Willow asked hesitantly, like she already knew the answer.

"They're dead," Gunn stated flatly.

Everyone was quiet again.

Angel sighed. "You guys, we have work to do. I know that all of us lost people that we cared about today, but we still have things to do."

"Damn, this is like Sunnydale!" Faith declared, "I mean, we kicked the world's controlling evil's ass today. I think that we should be allowed to have some down time."

"Right," Andrew agreed.

Buffy spoke up. "Angel received a vision from the Powers. While he was awake."

Of course Xander had something to say to that. He stared at Angel enviously. "You get visions now? Man, some people get all the good powers," he complained.

"I'll say," said Spike.

"What was in the vision?" inquired Willow.

Angel paused, trying to think of the best way to explain. "It was different than most other visions. There was no... vision part. It was more like the Powers were sending me information, but it didn't have any words. I just knew it."

"Well what was it?" Spike asked impatiently.

"I think it was – should I put it in my own works? – something about 'When the war against the demon overlords is done, the fallen will rise again to be champions... champions or symbols... of the new age.'," Angel sighed. "I got the feeling that all that stuff is written somewhere. We need to find it."

"If it's in a book, we have someone who can find anything in a book," Dawn offered helpfully.

Angel shot a glance over to Buffy. "But Giles, I thought he-"

"No, we brought the new Watchers with us, remember? All of them seem like they swallowed every codex and mystical text in existence, and then some. I think all Watchers start out like that," Buffy said pensively.

"We should get to him as soon as possible then," Angel decided.

"So is this meeting adjourned?" Gunn asked.

Angel glanced at Buffy. She nodded slightly.

"It is."

The last thing he remembered doing was giving a girl one hell of a kiss. Oh, and some extreme heat.

"Hello?" he whispered.

No one answered, but he knew that there were other people near him. He could dimly see their shapes moving in the bluish light like shadows on smooth, dark velvet.

"Who's there?"

Could he stand? Standing could get the attention of the others, maybe. Currently, he was half-laying, half-sitting on the ground. His legs... he didn't exactly know whether they were numb or what. His brain seemed to not be aware that they were there, but he could feel them out in front of him with his hands. It was very strange.

He stayed there, staring at nothing in a half-cognizant state, until something moved out from under his legs.

"Hey!" he yelped. Suddenly, an extreme sense of feeling shot through his entire body and mind, making his whole self hyper-aware. His legs were there, his hands, his head, his senses of taste, touch, smell, sight and sound were all THERE.

He was awake. He could feel the roughness of the cold concrete on the palms of his hands. He could smell the musty old fabric smell of the dark room. He could faintly hear the sounds of cars running on the road through the tiny, open window in the corner. He knew what those things all were.

A sequence of five responding yelps and sounds of surprise answered, as if he'd started a chain reaction with his. One of them came from around his legs.

Then someone's scared, wary voice called softly into the darkness from the other side of the room.

"Who are you people?"

TBC... remember to review!!

Note: I need a beta reader. The creative side of my head goes too fast for the rest of my brain and sometimes stuff tends to not make any sense. E-MAIL ME (check my lookup for e-mail address because keeps erasing it when I put it here) PLEASE, especially if you have some writing experience and/or are willing to actually tell me about any problems or suggestions you have for or about my story. And if you're in need of a beta yourself, I'd be happy to do it, even if you can't beta mine. Thanks to whoever responds to this!