Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Buffyverse. I just take it and play with it and put it back the way I found it.

Willow Tree Burning

Chapter 1

Buffy Summers looked down at the fresh grave with the fresh coffin with the fresh body in it and didn't understand. She was the Slayer. She had come to terms with her short life span years ago. Hell, she had died twice. She was prepared for her death, but not this. Xander losing an eye during the battle against the First was bad enough, but not this. Not after the war was over. The aftermath of apocalyptic battles was supposed to be a time to relax, rest, and have some fun before the next annual apocalypse. Not this. Not her. Not now.

Xander Harris wrapped Buffy in a hug, giving comfort as much as receiving it. Giles was there, and Faith, and the others who had survived the final battle, but it felt like just the two of them, alone in their grief. It had been them from the beginning. Giles didn't exactly count in this—he had been an adult. He hadn't known what it was like to live, and love, and laugh, and fight—to just grow up—together. Others had come and gone—Angel, Oz, Cordelia, Tara, Anya, Spike—but they were bound by something more than friendship, more than love. It was something that bound them—and freed them. Something that had allowed them to soar for seven years. And now a third of their bond was gone. More. More than a third.

"She was truly the best of us all," Xander said softly, echoing a sentiment expressed many years ago that was still applicable today. Buffy nodded, still bleakly wondering why. It had been so stupid. So pointless. A random car, a slippery road, and reflexes that had been just a fraction of a second too slow. She murmured, "She didn't even die in battle. She was ready to give me that, even when she was evil, and she didn't even get it herself. She was a hero, a warrior, and she didn't even die in battle."

She looked up at Xander, a single tear sliding down her face. "Why didn't she die in battle? She's been through enough of them, so why didn't she?"

Xander shook his head, looking at the fresh grave of his best friend since kindergarten. "Life's a bitch like that."

******

It was like a radio had been turned on in her head. Thoughts tumbled over themselves, as if to make up for lost time. She didn't even try to sort them out. The audio slowly fuzzed into being, and she heard soft voices. As feeling returned to her limbs, she realized she was lying on a cold, probably metal, table without a stitch on. Oh yay.

All limbs here? Check. Hearing? Check. Clothes—don't even think about it. Sight?

She cracked her eyelids open a slit, not sure if this was hostile territory or not, and peered around. White walls. White walls and a face, moving towards her—yikes!

She shot upright, ignoring any danger, and stared around. Panic fizzled nicely in her belly. At least it was content to stay there for now.

The woman—it was a woman who had been drawing near—said soothingly. "It's all right. You're safe."

She relaxed slightly and glanced down then back up pointedly. The woman handed her a blanket, which she wrapped around her shoulders before looking around. Five other girls were sitting or standing as well, looking just as confused as she felt. No—not girls. One didn't look older than sixteen, the oldest at least twenty, but all had a familiar look in their eyes, a feel about their stance. She looked back at the woman and saw that three more women and four men were standing behind her, near a door. She blushed, glancing at the blanket. Terrific. As if waking up in a strange place hadn't wigged her enough, waking up in a strange place naked as the day she was born with strangers in the room just gave her the uber-wig.

One of the men stepped forward. He was medium height with graying brown hair. He looked in his 50's and he wore a suit. "Ladies," he said quietly, with an accent that made all six girls stiffen slightly in recognition. For some it meant duty, for others comfort. For her it meant it was time to start worrying.

As none of the others were talking, she made the first move. "Where are we?"

"London," he said. "England."

Figures, what with the accent and all.

"Where in London?" a girl with an accent reminiscent of Spike's asked.

The man said, "I doubt you would recognize it anymore."

"Who are you?"

The man's gaze returned to the American girl. "My name is James Ashton."

"You're with the council." It was not a question, and her voice was flat. He nodded once. "Yes, I am, as I am sure you all have guessed by now."

She glanced back. One girl was nodding, one girl looked nonplussed, one was impassive, and the other two just looked like they were in shock.

Ashton continued. "I realize this comes as a shock to you all, but—"

"What, we were all in comas?" she interrupted. He blinked then said gently, "You were dead."

Murmurs ran through the group, shocked and upset, but she sat there silently. She had thought she had died. She glanced around, seeing now the runes and accoutrements for a powerful spell, and her heart sank. Her face, though, remained unreadable. "And you brought us back to life."

"Simply put—yes," he agreed. She resisted the urge to glare at him malevolently and, to hide her fury even more, looked down as she fiddled with her blanket.

Why had they brought her back?

"Miss Summers?"

Why had they bothered with her? She was powerful, sure, but the Council hadn't known that.

"Miss Summers."

"But—wait—hadn't there been—

"Summers!"

Her eyes flashed up as she snapped, "Obviously she's not here, so quit shouting while I think!"

Stunned silence met this. Ashton stared at her. "You—you are not Buffy Summers?"

She frowned. "Why would you think I was Buffy? She's the Slayer, well one of them. Anyway, she's—what? Whoa—wait a minute."

For a minute she had forgotten the being brought back from the dead thing. Her eyes widened. "No. No way—you didn't. You—stupid council—you got me mixed up with Buffy?"

Faces were white. Ashton cleared his throat. "Apparently we did. Who are you, if you are not Buffy Summers?"

"Willow. Willow Rosenberg."

A/N: Kinda short, I know. The other chapters will get longer if I get reviews. If I don't get reviews, then I just won't write other chapters.