A/N- I've gotten a few reviews but not nearly enough. Writers' love feedback and anything good, bad, or insightful is appreciated! I'm glad so many of you are reading and enjoying it!

This is just a quick little chapter catching up with the girls. I promise that once I soon get through with my material written about two years ago and start writing fresh stuff again, chapters will get longer!

I do not own any part of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel. If I did, there would have been WAY more Spuffy scenes.

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One by one and two by two, girls left Buffy's apartment, chit-chatting all the way down the hallway, suitcases and backpacks in hand. To any one of Buffy's neighbors, who were not at all pleased with this interruption to their sleep schedule, these were just a bunch of loud and normal teenage girls. They had no idea, through their sleepy hazes, how wrong they were. Loud? Yes. Normal? Hardly. These girls were strong, confident, and able to kick some serious demon ass. They were slayers. For the past two millennia or so, only one slayer had existed per generation, minus the Buffy/Kendra and Buffy/Faith exceptions. As Giles used to say, "To each generation, a slayer is born. One girl in all the world, a chosen one, one born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires." But thanks to some magic mojo from Willow over a year ago, there were now hundreds of slayers all over the world. So far, the Scooby Gang was no where near close to locating everyone. Those they did, they formed into powerful and righteous slayer armies.

The last to leave the apartment were Dawn and Buffy.

"So," said Dawn as Buffy locked the apartment door behind her, " How many slayers are coming?"

After Buffy turned away from the apartment, they continued down the hall, out of earshot of the girls. "Only the ones who have been here the longest. It's not going to be pretty, we need girls who can handle it. Probably about 60, 65. Our group along with a few others flying in. Giles' and Andrew's girls obviously evacuated as quickly as they could, being directly in the storm's path. They'll be meeting us when we arrive."

"But where are we gonna' stay? I can not stay in some tiny house with that many slayers again! I won't. I can't. I refuse!"

Buffy laughed, "It'll be fine. Graham set us up with a Headquarters on high ground. Don't worry."

One worry now gone, Dawn switched gears to another pressing issue. "So…any idea if there's demon involvement yet?"

Buffy glanced at her younger sister, compassion in her eyes. "No, not that we know of."

Dawn bit her lip. Demons had always been apart of her life. Not necessarily a great part, but with a sister as the slayer, they had seen and defeated worse. The possibility of no demons, that this disaster could be some natural occurrence, was a bit out of their comfort zone. "What will we do if there isn't demon involvement?"

"Do just as we planned," Buffy replied calmly, "We'll help. The better question is, what do we do if there is?"

"I guess so," replied Dawn quietly, more to herself than to her sister.

The raucous group continued down the hall, eliciting more than a few angry yells from sleepy neighbors.

"Sia calmo, voi femmine piccole!"

"Dormiamo!"

"Ora quando è?"

These outbursts did little to quiet the girls, excited at the idea of a new mission, however frightening. It was this thrill, paired with the fact that most spoke little, if any, Italian that kept them yelling and running down the hall. After realizing their complaints had little effect, most gave in, pulled the pillows over their heads, and drifted back to sleep.

The group left the front doors and continued down into the streets of Rome, the first of the sun's rays beginning to infiltrate the night's inky black sky. Even in the beauty and calm of the approaching dawn, the slayers continued their girlish laughter and silly war cries.

When they finally came upon the field, as the General Graham had instructed Buffy to do in a later phone conversation, the girls were suddenly silent. They gasped at what lay before them.

"Damn," said one Brooklyn accented slayer, looking to her friend beside her in disbelief.

"Nice jet," said one pimple ridden slayer.

"A girl could get used to this," said another.