Her mind raced as she toiled over the restorative process of an ancient Akkadian object. He hit me. He actually hit me. Her blood boiled as she brushed the piece. It had been three days since Nottingham scolded her for the accident at the illegal Onyx facility. But the scolding was mild compared to the slap across her face. She was a lot of things, but she was no man's punching bag. Buffy taught her better than that.

After she had finished, she gathered her bag and left for his place, her mind a single-focused instrument of determination and anger as she rode the subway. When she got near his residence, close enough to ring the buzzer, her body tensed. Her stride was smooth and forceful. She walked right past Bernard, Nottingham's valet, with such swiftness that he barely had time for a greeting.

"Ms. Summers..."

"Shut up," she replied as she walked upstairs. She entered Nottingham's private chambers and saw him at his desk, a glass of wine adorning the table.

"Dawn, I..." he began.

He doubled over as the fist connected with his solar plexus. He then felt his body being lifted into the air and glide until it hit the floor. Next thing he knew, cold metal had been wrapped around his neck when he was pinned to the wall.

"If you ever, ever, touch me like that again..." she said.

"Forgive me, Dawn. I acted in a thoughtless rage. Kenneth Irons would treat me the same way and I regret that I brought that upon you. It seems even from the grave that Irons maintains his grip."

He saw faint red in her pupils as she held, only to dissipate as she loosened her grip. Inwardly, he smiled. She was coming along perfectly.

Dawn let go and Nottingham massaged his neck. "It happens again, and this arrangement is over. You understand?"

"I understand completely. With that being said, I have a mission for you."

"Good."

Buffy had been filled with dread. Over the past two months, she had been waiting for Sara Pezzini to wake up from her coma. Fate seemed to be mocking her, content to have Sara in a coma and the Witchblade attached to Dawn. Ever since it happened, Buffy had kept Dawn from engaging in the patrols. She had been worried about the pull of the Witchblade on her younger sister, and the intensity she saw in her fighting. It wasn't that she was intense, but it seemed like Dawn would fight less with her head and more out of desire to get out her frustrations and pent-up anger. Faith had done that, and Buffy knew all too well the results of that series of mishaps.

Nevertheless, she had to get her sister out there, knowing that sooner or later Dawn would decide she was better off working on her own than under Buffy's guidance. So she decided to include her in the night's patrol, hoping that any of the training Dawn had gone through would be used responsibly. When she told Dawn, the girl was enthusiastic, promising not to let Buffy down. The night had started out good enough; there was barely any activity in the four-woman training patrol to qualify as a lesson.

"This night still looks to be a bust," Monica stated.

"No doubt," Deirdre replied. "Sorry, Dawn. I thought this would be more exciting for you."

"It still could be," Buffy said. "Don't let your guard down just yet. We still have a few blocks to go."

"Come on, Buffy. We got one and he was barely out of the grave."

"Just shut up and focus. You never know when…"

And suddenly they saw them. Ten vamps in all, emerging from hidden location. Buffy had suspected the local vamps were trying as best as they could to avoid the patrols after Amy had been dealt with, and figured they were moving underground more. Now she had her suspicions confirmed.

"Alright, I count ten vamps and…" she began to say when five more came down the drab alley.

"Five more coming," Dawn remarked.

"Okay, guys. Stay tight and don't let them surround us. Make sure you…" she was cut off by Dawn leaping into the air, fully decked out in the Witchblade's armor and slicing the head off of a one of the vamps. Buffy barely had time to react before getting into the fray.

"Dawn, watch Deirdre's back!" she yelled. But Dawn was not even registering Buffy's voice. She tore through the vamps as the rest of the Slayers battled on.

To call it a massacre was an insult to the term. Dawn was a singular force. Claws dug into screaming flesh as tendrils flailed about and tore limbs and severed heads. But a few of them got through her vicious offense. Deirdre battled two of them and was holding her own quite well. But things changed when Dawn began to use her energy blasts. She sets one of her attackers on fire. He didn't immediately turn to ash, his clothing shielding his flesh from the flames.

In its panic, he barreled into Deirdre and her two vamps. The two vamps jumped to of the way and the flaming vamp tackled Deirdre. The skin on her hands and arms began to burn as she screamed. Finally, when the vamp turned to dust, her two attackers saw their moment and pounced on their injured prey.

"Deirdre," Buffy yelled out. She staked one of her two attackers and threw the other one into a garbage bin. Buffy tackled one of the two vamps while Monica was kept busy with her attackers. Dawn heard Deidre cry out and looked in her direction. She quickly extended a tendril and ran him through. She pulled him toward her and clotheslined him with her claws, severing his head and turning him to dust.

Buffy staked her vamp and ran toward Monica to finish off the ones Monica had left. After they were done, Buffy looked at Dawn as she finished off her remaining two. She had a look in her eye. It was more than exhilaration; it was almost regret, regret that the fighting was over. She looked like a predator in sorrow that her meal was over and ultimately unsatisfying. Buffy stormed over to her.

"Have you lost your mind!" Buffy yelled.

"What are you talking about?"

"You were supposed to cover Deirdre! Instead you went off all half-cocked!"

"And I got the job done!" Dawn yelled back.

"At the expense of one of your own. And that fire thing? Deirdre got burned because of it."

Dawn looked at Deirdre. While the burns were not horrible, it would put her out of commission for a little bit.

"She'll be fine. We're all still alive," she said.

"That's not the point, Dawn! You're too reckless!" Buffy yelled.

"I got the job done!" Dawn yelled back.

"That's it! You're done patrolling."

"Yeah, right. Like you could stop me." Dawn started to walk away when Buffy grabbed her arm.

"I said you're done," Buffy restated sternly.

"Take your hands off of me, Buffy." Dawn stared at her older sister. And for a split-second, Buffy was truly scared. Not for herself, but for what Dawn was becoming. She let go and saw as her younger sibling slowly disappeared down the alley.

"What do we do now, Buff?" Monica asked.

"We treat Deirdre's burns first. I'll handle my sister."

Illyria was not enjoying the walk. Nor was she particular to going as the person who originally inhabited her body: the bookish Winifred Burkle. She and her charge, Stacy, had finished their patrol and now it was time to go home. Ever since the island battle she had felt protective of the young girl. Giles noticed it, when he wasn't in a drunken stupor, and told Illyria that she seemed to be a mother-daughter bond with the girl. Illyria was dismissive; Stacy was her pupil, someone who she would train and fashion to be a lethal instrument. Any perceived affection was merely the problem of faulty human awareness. Or so she was convincing herself. The more she hung out with the girl, though, the more she desired to protect her. Though she had told no one, the death of Wesley was still raw and she never wanted that to happen to Stacy.

Nevertheless, all she wanted to do tonight was go home. She tired of the downtown Manhattan scene, the obscene lights and deafening sounds. The sounds were nothing like what she heard in her time, the screaming of foes beneath her armies' feet. She much preferred those sounds to these.

"Come on, we're supposed to meet up with the rest of the gang in 10 minutes," Stacy remarked.

"We should be heading home," Illyria stated.

"It's Friday night, Illy." Illyria stared at Stacy. "Sorry. Illyria, Ruler of the Incredibly Boring."

"You should be practicing your skills, not gallivanting around participating in meaningless distractions."

"And these meaningless distractions keep us from going insane," Stacy replied. "Come on, we'll have fun. We'll just… Hey, there's Dawn. Dawn!"

Illyria looked at Dawn, who didn't seem to notice them as she stormed down the street. Illyria saw the look on her face; it was the face of a warrior, looking for battle. Meaningless distractions were not on her agenda tonight.

"Daw…" Stacy began before Illyria grabbed her.

"She is not hearing us. She is on the warpath, looking for battle. I know that look. We must follow her."

"What for? You just want in on the action, huh?" Stacy remarked in disdain.

Illyria smirked. And Stacy let out a sigh. Another Friday night was toast.

They followed her down to the subway and as she got into one of the cars. Now things were getting weird. Stacy wasn't so sure it was a battle they were going to more than just a wild goose chase, with Dawn being the goose. They got off of the subway and followed her down the street until she turned down an alley. They turned down the alley as well, but caught no sight of her.

"Where'd she go?" Stacy asked.

Suddenly, Dawn appeared right behind them from above and grabbed Stacy by the neck, pinning her against the wall.

"Why are you following me, Stacy?"

"Dawn, what's your problem?"

"Let go of her," Illyria demanded. Dawn complied.

"Illyria thought you were going to a fight tonight. She wanted in. But all we've seen you do is storm down the street like you were ready to tear everyone apart."

"Go home," Dawn promptly said.

"Why are you over here?" Stacy asked. "There's not much action down here."

"Stop following me, Stacy."

Stacy was taken aback. Dawn had been acting weird ever since she got the Witchblade, but she had always been more on the sweet side. This was unlike her.

"Dawn, if there's a problem…"

Dawn shot of a claw toward Stacy's face. "I said go home."

Illyria was livid. Two things were wrong with this picture: Dawn was threatening an ally and she was threatening Illyria's charge. None of those were acceptable to her.

"Threaten her again and you'll deal with me," Illyria coldly stated. Dawn looked at her and Illyria saw red flash in Dawn's eyes for a split-second. Few would have picked it up, but, then again, few were her.

Dawn stared at Illyria and then seemed to calm herself. She looked at Stacy. "I'm sorry, Stacy. I just need to be out and about. I can take care of myself."

"I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about the poor bastards who piss you off. Hopefully, they won't be human or you might threaten them, too," Stacy bitterly remarked.

"Just don't tell Buffy you saw me."

"Why not?" Illyria asked.

"Yeah. You just threatened me, Dawn. Last time I checked that wasn't healthy behavior and Buffy'll want to know about it."

"I'm working things out," Dawn replied desperately. "Just give me some time and I'll fill you in. Okay? Please?"

"Fine," Stacy said. "But if you get hurt…"

"I won't. I'm doing something that'll help us all out. I just need some time."

"Whatever," Stacy replied. "Just take care of yourself." Dawn smiled and walked away as Stacy and Illyria were left in the alley alone.

"Do you believe her?" Illyria asked.

"You kiddin'? Whatever it is, she's hiding it from Buffy. Which means she knows the boss won't approve."

"We could try and follow her again, but I think the Witchblade sensed us," Illyria reasoned.

"I know a couple of guys who could tail her, figure out where she's going. They're better at it than I am."

"Employ them," Illyria stated. "And make sure we have answers soon."