Author's Note: This is my version of the post-Whedon Buffyverse. It is rated Mature for some dialogue, sexual themes (non-graphic), and violence. I assume you've seen or read all five seasons of Angel and all seven seasons of Buffy. I don't consider anything except aired episodes as canon.

Thank you for over two hundred views! I can't express how much it means to me that so many of you have taken the time to send comments and emails, or post reviews.

I hope you enjoy chapter four, and I'll finish up this episode and finally get everyone where they're going in my next post. Then we can start getting into the good stuff.

Deep in the jungles of South America, even though it was well on towards the middle of the day not a single ray of sunlight reached the forest floor. Barely visible in the gloom, a small clearing with a tiny hut in it was the only sign of humanity. A tiny curl of black smoke snaking up from the chimney proved that someone had thought to light a fire.

This was where Willow and Kennedy had come in the sudden diaspora that followed the sealing of Sunnydale's Hellmouth. There were several powerful families who had been more than happy to put Kennedy and Willow up for a few months, because in exchange they would get to be on the books for the boon that the favor purchased from the White Goddess.

Despite what Willow was, her current state meant she was utterly defenseless. She lay on the floor in the center of the hut. This room matched the exterior, with heavy furs that lined the walls and the floor doing as much to keep the hut cool in the day as they did to keep it warm at night. One step into the hallway revealed the true nature of the hut, as each room was as different from the next as a movie lot.

Kennedy was lying next to Willow with one arm scooped under her head. Kennedy's other hand was splayed to trace Willow's face with her index finger, gently caressing those perfect eyebrows before sliding down along her cheek. Her fingers followed Willow's lips so delicately until Kennedy finally leaned in for a kiss. She almost enjoyed the helplessness that Willow currently displayed, having had her way with her several times so far.

She flitted her tongue in to taste moisture, but Willow wasn't in there. The new Slayer didn't know exactly where Willow's mind was, other than she was on some other plane of existence. Kennedy liked to think that wherever Willow was she could feel the love and devotion being sent.

Willow's shock white hair spilled over Kennedy's arm, catching in the crook of her elbow. Kennedy idly stroked her fingers through it. The thin sheets that covered Willow's otherwise naked body did practically nothing to hide her suddenly heaving bosom.

Kennedy let out a small gasp as Willow's eyes popped open.

"Hi, you," Willow said with a lazy, crooked smile, after a moment to get her bearings.

"Hi," Kennedy said gently. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No," Willow said just as gently. "You couldn't have if you tried. Something happened." Willow sat up, holding her arm across her chest to keep the sheet in place. "Something bad. I had to come back so we can take care of it. You were like a lighthouse, and you made it so easy for me to find my way."

Kennedy was setting out clothes for Willow to wear. "I'll go draw you a bath," she said.

"Wait," Willow said. She stepped out of the bed to give Kennedy a hug.

After a brief kiss, Kennedy said, "I'll get that bath."

"We don't have time," Willow said.

"The world's not going to end in the next hour, is it?" Kennedy shot one of her quick smiles.

"I don't … think so," Willow said, honestly considering the likelihood.

"Good. Then come with me." Kennedy took her by the hand and together they went towards the bathroom. They had chosen to be the guests of a somewhat wealthy family of spiritualists, who more than material wealth had much stronger ties to ancient power than most. The palatial grounds housed rooms of various purpose, although the entire affair looked like a single hut from the outside.

Willow followed Kennedy, not the least bit concerned that she was naked, until they both stepped into the sumptuously appointed bathroom. An antique claw-foot sat in a nook perfect sized for it on the left side of the tent. An aged bronze tap was set in the cloth wall over its far side. Several cloth-draped steps, which could have been either wood or stone, led up to it.

There was a thin barrier separating the toilet from the rest of the room. Willow disappeared behind it for several minutes while Kennedy adjusted the water. A hand-sink sat on the opposite side from the tub and above it was a gigantic and majestic golden mirror that ran the entire length of the room. Kennedy stared into her own deep hazel eyes for a moment before she started stripping off her clothes.

Willow came back around the divider and the two of them squeezed into the tub. Their bodies slid together like wet snakes and for a while they just talked, nothing serious. The only major accomplishment of the first twenty minutes was that they washed each other's hair. After some playing, and some rubbing, and some cleaning, but long before Willow was ready, Kennedy started to climb out.

"Don't go," Willow said, giving Kennedy her very best sad puppy eyes.

"Don't do that to me," Kennedy said, taking Willow's hand. "Don't manipulate me or my emotions." She let their hands drop and started toweling herself off.

After drying off, Kennedy began to comb through her hair. She had been letting it grow out, and now it was well below her shoulders. Willow sat watching, resting her chin on her hand against the side of the tub.

"I wish my hair wasn't white," Willow said. "It makes me look like I'm a hundred years old."

"You look terrific," Kennedy said. "Some people spend hours, with their scalps burning and itching, to get that look."

"I've seen people go for yellow, but not this bone."

"Spike's hair was white," she said as she slipped her jeans on. "And I'll see you downstairs."

Gwen and Bethany had already done their introductions. Apparently helping damsels in distress was something Angel did quite frequently, and aside from a little bit of envy on both sides they were rather amicable.

Gwen was still wearing her tattered leathers though Bethany had managed to find some dry clothes she'd left behind in her room. Although they were about the same size, Gwen stubbornly refused to wear any sundress.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Bethany said. "At least they're dry."

"And breezy," Gwen said. "I get wind in places I'd rather not."

"Speaking of wind," Bethany said, "How long do you think this storm is going to last?"

"I don't know," Gwen replied. "But to be honest, I'd rather wait and see if it clears up before we head out there again."

"We're going to need to eat soon," Bethany said. "We have to go somewhere."

"And what if Angel comes back while we're gone?" Gwen asked.

"We leave him a note?" Bethany asked, weakly.

"The reason my clothes look the way they do is because I got struck by lightning and it wouldn't stop." Gwen looked down at her leathers, which aside from some gaping holes in places, none critical, were holding together remarkably well.

"I'm not forcing you to come with me," Bethany said. "But we need to find a vending machine or a restaurant to get some food."

"There's nothing here?" Gwen asked.

"This place looks like it's been empty for months."

"Yeah, Angel's been working at Wolfram & Hart. But I thought he might have left somethi…"

Bethany cut her off. "He went to work for Wolfram & Hart?"

"Yeah, he's been there for a year or so."

"I hadn't heard," Bethany said, letting silence settle between them.

Dawn. Nothing mattered more to The Slayer right now. And this time it wasn't daylight that was on Buffy's mind, that wouldn't even help her in this situation. She had put it to the Immortal plainly, asking him where he stood. Of course, he's rotten to the core.

Now Buffy stood in her underwear in the bedroom, trying to find something to wear to make good her escape. She wanted to go find her little sister, but at this point it might be just to choke her.

No matter how bluntly Buffy said it, nothing deterred the little bitch from "borrowing" her clothes, destroying them, and sneaking them back into the closet after she was done. Slaying was hard on her wardrobe, but even a decade of seasonal apocalypses hadn't done as much damage as a couple of years of this fictional teenager. It wasn't fair.

But the monk's had done their jobs well… maybe too well. The love that Buffy carried for her ward bordered on blindness, and this had been exploited to Buffy's end at least once. Though her friends had managed to bring her back (and Buffy had even managed to forgive them after a while) it was still a dangerous weakness to have.

And it wouldn't be long before some new threat to Dawn's well being emerged, especially with her on her own somewhere in California. Sure, Xander's heart was in the right place but he wasn't going to be much help if Dawn attracted the kind of attention she usually got. If Buffy was too late to save her it was probably because she couldn't find a top to wear.

She was so distracted she didn't even notice the Immortal's henchmen surrounding her until she caught a glimpse of one in the mirror.

"I don't suppose you guys would line up and take turns?" Buffy asked, laughing weakly and spinning around to face the group. The excitement crinkled her nipples, hardly visible through the padding of her sports bra. She balanced on the balls of her feet as she continued to turn in a loose circle and counted no less than nine of the things around her.

One of the things tried to speak with a croaking voice that didn't sound very cooperative. Buffy had to assume it was going to be a fight.

Stepping through the crowd, the Immortal held out his open palms. "It doesn't have to be this way, Buffy. I want Dawn back as much as you do."

"Yeah," Buffy said. "Xander already told me how bad you wanted Dawn to stay. I'm not interested in your help."

"You don't understand," The Immortal said. "Dawn is coming back to my castle, one way or another. I'm not done with her yet." The Immortal took a few steps closer to Buffy. "Or you."

Buffy smashed him in the face with the heel of her hand. As he staggered back, she lifted her leg and snap kicked the pommel of her scythe, which was on her dresser. It flipped through the air into her hands and she lashed out, dropping two of the Immortal's demons with the first strike.

"Enough!" The Immortal bellowed. "I can't have you killing all of my henchmen."

"You act like you pay for health insurance or something," Buffy said, menacing anything that came too close to her.

"Angel's friends in Italy set up the benefits package for all my employees. I need Dawn's help with something, Buffy, that's all."

"Somehow I don't believe you," Buffy said. "Are you going to let me go get her or not?"

"Of course," The Immortal said, bowing aside with a smile. "Proceed with my blessing."

"Then get out." Buffy walked over to open the door, waiting for them to leave so she could finish finding her clothes.

By the time Willow joined her in the kitchen, Kennedy had a small feast prepared. There was a large mahogany table with a dozen seats around it, but only two place settings were prepared: one at the head of the table and one to the immediate right. At each were omelets, strips of bacon, slices of Canadian ham, pieces of smoked turkey, toast and muffins with real butter, a few boxes of cold cereal with an empty bowl, and several other dishes both sweet and fattening.

"Did you cook this or cast it?" Willow asked, with some incredulity.

"It was actually pretty easy," Kennedy said.

"And it's been getting easier," Willow said, some concern in her voice. "How long did this take?"

"I started a few minutes after I got down here."

"Not bad," Willow said, sitting down. She gave the seat at the head of the table to Kennedy, a clear sign of who wore the pants in this relationship.

A pitcher of milk and another of orange juice sat between them, and glasses of water and ginger ale were nearby as well. After a few minutes had passed and they both had some food in them, they finally got around to talking about what had cut Willow's vacation so short.

"L.A.'s gone dark," Willow said without preamble.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kennedy asked.

"No communication, no light, no scrying." Willow took a sip from her milk. "Even regular folk can't see what's going on. The military satellites get blank photos, airplanes get lost in a layer of clouds that goes all the way to the ground."

"Ok. What do you think it really means?" Kennedy asked.

"There's only one way to be sure. But before we head in there ourselves, I think we should talk to Buffy and see if she's heard anything."

"Ok," Kennedy said. "When are we going?"

"Let's let the food settle a bit." Willow stood up and kissed Kennedy on the nose, their hair falling forward to hide both of their faces. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"I love you, too," Kennedy said, almost choking on the words.

TNIF Credit Union remained a bastion. The parapets that had looked so gothic architecturally now became real life battlements. Unscathed by the earthquakes and subsequent demons, its façade hadn't so much as cracked. Looking up into the windows, Spike could easily see things moving around in there, lots of things.

"Well, Blue, you got a plan?" he asked.

"The doors are around to the right," she said.

Connor stood nearby, not quite ready to say anything, but interested in anything Illyria said.

"That's it?" Angel asked, moping nearby. "That's the plan?"

"You don't get to ask that question after last night," Spike said, poking Angel in the chest. "You're…"

"Spike." Angel glared down at the short little blonde. "Enough."

Spike turned back to Illyria, ignoring Angel's threatening stare. "That's it?" he repeated, looking into Illyria's strangely empty eyes.

"There are demons, traps, and spells in there. I could suggest that we come back with someone who could disarm them, or at least identify them." Illyria squinted into the night, her vision as perfect as any other aspect of her being, trying to make out any details of the figures in the windows.

"Yeah, but you killed our girl who used to do that," Spike said. "And then you watched someone else kill the guy who took over."

"Then the three of us must bear the damage, and the rest can come along behind."

"I can take some damage, too" Connor said, perking up. "I can even probably tell you where the traps are."

"The more I learn about you," Illyria said, "the less like your father you seem."

Angel switched his glare to her, but didn't say anything. They started moving, rounding the corner with Connor in the lead and the refugees in tow. Illyria ripped open the doors, the sound of chain links shredding echoed from the other side.

"We probably could have used those," Angel said.

Several demons came rushing out. Illyria sandwiched the first one between those doors, which she still held easily. Twisted and wrapped up like a corndog by the heavy metal doors, she tossed it over her shoulder and out of the fight.

From the lobby, the theme song to some cheesy eighties movie played over the sound system.

Giles had set up an office in one of the distant wings of the Immortal's compound, far away from the usual haunts of the many Slayers. It wasn't that he was avoiding them, just that he didn't want to be around them. This was much closer to the library, and although it was nothing compared to his personal collection, the books were certainly some of the finest in Europe. Not that Giles could use his personal collection as a fair comparison since it had been destroyed along with the rest of Sunnydale.

There was a huge desk with a huge leather chair behind it, stuffed incongruously into a corner. Giles sat glaring across the desk, in front of it were two somewhat smaller (but still quite ample) chairs made of matching leather. Andrew fidgeted, quite uncomfortable, in one of these, trying to avoid Giles' eyes.

"What do you want me to do?" Andrew asked. "We're not going to kill anyone are we? Because I won't do that now."

"No one is killing anybody," Giles said, calmly. "What was lost in the explosion were a building and some resources. What we must replace are a building, and some materials."

"And some of your best Watchers," Andrew added.

"True," Giles said. "Some of them. But, then again, some of our greatest Watchers and all our other sleeper agents have been waiting for a day just such as this to come."

"Tell me what you want me to do," Andrew said. He wouldn't have had the courage to stand up to Giles in such a way even just a few short months ago. He'd changed as much as any of the Potentials.

"Isn't it obvious?" Giles cried, frustration on his wrinkled brow. "I want you to join me. Become a Watcher. Pick one of the Slayers and begin advanced training. We'll start bringing our people out of mothballs, we'll drain all our reserves, whatever it requires as long as we can get each one of these girls the guidance they require."

"I can have any one I want?" Andrew asked, incredulous.

"This isn't a sex toy, nor some kind of mail-order bride. This is serious business, Andrew. You must find one that you can tolerate. Maybe start with a small group and narrow it down as you go." Giles took off his glasses, cleaning them briefly. "No matter what, you'll be spending an awful lot of time with whomever you choose, and if you have personality clashes it's not going to be easy to be reassigned until after we bolster our ranks."

"I understand," Andrew said solemnly.

Outside the door to Giles' office, Willow and Kennedy stood dumbstruck. They both knew what the Council had been willing to do, time and time again, and the reasons why Wesley and Giles had both quit. Now it was coming back, like nothing ever happened?

With the screech of rubber meeting concrete, the airplane finally landed from Cincinnati. Dawn and Xander had made it. Now all that remained was a couple of hours heading up I-5 and their trip together would be over. Xander went to rent a car while Dawn picked up the luggage. They still weren't speaking.