Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own any of these characters. Except for a few originals, but duh, you'll know those. I wish I owned a few, but y'know. Shush shush.

A/N: If you didn't know- it's Willow's POV.

I woke up crying one morning. I'm not sure why, or what caused it, the only thing I can remember is waking up drenched in tears. My eyes were red and puffy, I later saw, looking in the mirror. Everything else looked the same as always. Messy bed hair, stinky breath, morning bags under my eyes…check. What had happened?

I could feel that somebody else felt my dreams. That was interesting. Somebody had been there with me, but I am not sure who. I felt scared, and I felt hopeless; I was just watching in fright as somebody took care of something I was not prepared to face.

What was going on?

Kennedy mumbled in the bed, tossing and turning, and I turned to face her, sighing. The Brazilian heat around us had made her ruffle the covers up, and I could see that she had kicked them all up to rest on my side. No wonder I felt slightly sweaty.

She was too, by the way. Her skin was darker than normal, due to the sun in South America. I, on the other hand, managed to remain a bright pink all the time, if I was lucky. Stupid red hair.

We had been busy these past few months, ever since Sunnydale imploded. We all rested for about a month, gathering our wits about us, then Giles decided it was time to head back home to England. Well, that was peachy with the rest of us, considering we all were, unbeknownst to us, of course, being shipped off to other countries to gather Slayers that had been called.

England was to be the home base in our massive game of Slayer tag. He had funding, through some link to the Council that had been left underground when they exploded into tiny, stuffy, tweed-wrapped bits, and he took Andrew and some colleagues spread about America with him to start up his own version of the Watcher's Council. Only not evil.

Kennedy and I had been sent to Brazil. Xander was sent to Australia, Buffy and Dawn went to Europe, and Faith and Wood went out to Africa. After a year abroad, we would all gather in England, then head to America to gather the Slayers awakened there.

It was a massive project, and it kind of scared me to picture us out here, in the middle of South America, for a year. But hey, if I didn't develop skin cancer, I would be able to withstand anything.

Except those dreams.

I sighed, and brushed through my ever-growing red hair in the primitive mirror. It felt nice to be connected with nature, out in a hut in the jungle, but I longed for my home in Sunnydale… well, Buffy's home by the end of it, but still.

I heard a shuffle to the right, and I squeaked in surprise, but sighed in relief as I saw Espinosa, one of the South American Slayers. I had personally nicknamed our team "S.A.S.S.," South American Slayer Squad. I have never claimed to not be a nerd.

"Lo siento, senorita," Espinosa whispered softly. "Soy espantado, y necesito un explanacion para el alboroto."

I sighed. She was scared, and she needed an explanation about the disturbance? What disturbance?

"Que alboroto? Es probablemente animales en la selva," I replied, hoping to soothe her. It didn't look like my assurance was helping.

She explained, in slow Spanish so that I could follow, that there had been a scream. I asked who it was from, and she said she couldn't tell. It had felt like it was coming from her mind.

Great. Another beastie that's attacking our girls through dreams.

I stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder, looking concerned. I asked her to try and get back to sleep, or if she liked, she could stay up with me for a cup of coffee and the sunrise, and we would keep an eye out.

She opted to stay awake with me. I haven't explained to any of them that there was a time I could be more dangerous than any danger out in the jungle. They trusted me, and I felt comforted by that dependence on me.

I made some coffee, and handed her a cup, sugared and creamed, and got a couple blankets. I waved for her to follow, and we stepped outside onto the wooden porch, which overlooked a small slope into the jungle. To the right, you could see the small homes of those who lived in the village there, covered in thatch and primitive manners of construction. Life was simple here, yet it was much more difficult than I could have imagined.

To the right were the farming areas. Some were common grounds where the folks without as much money could get a few bucks off their crops. The others were fenced, large and well-groomed (It's obvious I'm no farmer. Shut up, I do my best.), and the richer the person, the greener the ground seemed to be.

I gave Espinosa a blanket, and we sat down on the small wooden bench, curled our legs up underneath us, and pulled the woolen blankets over us. I sipped my coffee, and winced as I burnt my tongue.

"Ow! Muy caliente," I muttered, sticking my tongue out to cool it in the chilly, just-before-sunrise air. I should've been grateful. It can get HOT there.

Espinosa smiled, but she still looked worried, so I asked her to describe again what had happened.

She said that while she had been asleep, she had seen many things in her mind. A girl, seeking help, then a large man fighting back monsters, dark and scary, and finally another man holding something blue and glowing… his eyes were bleeding and they sparkled with blue.

As she spoke, I could see things in my mind. Flashes of what she was saying, exactly how she was saying them. Nothing was there for too long, but I knew everyone in the images. Angel was fighting… Wesley was holding the blue item; his eyes looked like they had exploded… oh goddess.

And the girl.

Naturally.

Who else would it have been?

I mean, just because Sunnydale explodes… she's still got to be in trouble, right?

I rose from my seat, placing the coffee cup down, telling Espinosa I would be right back. I set my blanket down, then ran into the house, picking up my magically charged cell phone. I speed-dialed number 2, and smiled worriedly as Giles picked up.

"Watcher's Council, this is Rupert Giles," said a tired, familiar voice.

"Giles," I said, sighing. "It's Buffy."