SGC Briefing Room, Monday.
Willow hid her excitement behind a mask of professionalism as she stepped out of the elevator onto the twenty-seventh floor. She nodded at some of the officers walking past her, her lips curling slightly as she made her way to Hammond's office. It was her first day as an official member of the SGC, and she had arrived right on time to report to General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill.
As she walked down the hallway, she heard Jonas yelling excitedly about "getting something" or "discovering something." His tone was almost frantic. Just as he began explaining his discovery to Hammond and O'Neill, Willow knocked on the General's door.
"Lieutenant Rosenberg reporting for duty, sirs," Willow said, standing stiff and straight, her hands clasped behind her back.
"At ease, Lieutenant," Hammond replied with a nod. Willow relaxed slightly as he handed her a folder marked Top Secret.
"Take some time to go through SG-1's mission report to Abydos," Hammond instructed. "Then report to the briefing room in an hour."
Since the long conference table was unoccupied, Willow stepped into the briefing room, took a seat, and started reading. The margins of the report were filled with numerous notes, most of them written by Jonas, based on Daniel's findings. Some sections required multiple readings before she pressed her lips together and nodded. What she was reading was interesting. Very interesting.
During the briefing an hour later, Willow looked up from the report. "So, according to Daniel, when you guys met him in Abydos, he said these… um… ascended beings are the Ancients?" she asked. "The honest-to-goodness people who built the Stargates?"
"According to this tablet, yes," Jonas confirmed. "Dr. Jackson verified it as well." He pointed to a picture of an ancient tablet with inscriptions along the edges. "The tablet speaks of a city of the lost, not the lost city, called Vis Uban. It was supposed to be the crown jewel of the entire Ancient domain until a plague struck. It remained unfinished after the fall of their civilization."
Willow studied the picture of the tablet. She couldn't read the script, so she had to take Jonas's word for it. Her initial resentment toward him had faded. Now, he was a colleague—someone she would be working with, someone who would have her back in the field. And she would have his.
O'Neill leaned forward. "So, can we find any goodies there? Like weapons? Defenses? Does the tablet say anything about that?"
"Possibly," Jonas replied. "If it really was one of the Ancients' cities, it stands to reason there could be weapons and defenses."
Teal'c nodded. "Agreed. It is something we should investigate, Colonel O'Neill."
"Do we have a Gate address?" Major Carter asked.
Smiling, Jonas picked up a piece of paper with seven symbols. "Yes. Yes, we do."
With no further questions, Hammond dismissed SG-1. They would be departing within the hour.
As Willow walked beside Carter, she took a deep breath. The major glanced at her. "Nervous?"
Willow hesitated. She wanted to appear tough, but a wave of nervousness crept over her. It was true she had traveled through the Stargate many times during her summers at the SGC, and she had felt nervous then too. But this time was different—this time, she was part of SG-1. The thought of stepping through the Gate with them filled her with both anticipation and anxiety.
Before she could respond, Carter spoke again. "It's perfectly fine to be nervous."
As they stepped into the women's locker room, Willow nodded. "Yeah… but I've got your back out there."
Carter smiled. "And I've got yours."
Yes, they would watch out for each other.
Vis Uban, City of the Ancients.
During Willow's previous missions with various SG teams over the summers, everything had always gone according to plan. However, on her first official mission with SG-1, she learned the most important lesson about being part of the SGC: always expect the unexpected.
While exploring the Ancient city of Vis Uban, SG-1, SG-3, and SG-5 failed to locate any weapons that could be used against Anubis. However, they did receive a surprise—the miraculous return of Daniel Jackson. Unfortunately, this Daniel Jackson had no memory of who he was or who they were.
According to Colonel Reynolds of SG-3, Daniel had been found wandering near the Stargate. He appeared confused when Reynolds called out to him and even more so when he was brought to the ruins of the city, where SG-1 was speaking with the locals—nomadic travelers who had made Vis Uban their home. The leader of the nomads explained that they had discovered Daniel, completely naked, in a clearing outside the city. He had no recollection of his identity or how he had arrived there. When SG-1 confronted him, Daniel simply nodded but showed no sign of recognition.
Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter took Daniel aside, hoping to help him regain his memories. They stepped into his tent, leaving Willow, Jonas, and Teal'c outside in the city. Staying nearby, Willow turned to Teal'c and asked if this sort of thing was common. Teal'c replied, "It is not, Willow Rosenberg."
She nodded, deep in thought. Daniel had previously stated his need to ascend, so why had he returned? And why didn't he remember anything? This situation was different from Buffy's resurrection—Buffy had died, but Daniel had not. Something else was happening here.
A short while later, O'Neill and Carter emerged from the tent and approached the group. They explained that Daniel was uncertain about returning to Earth but was willing to consider it if they could provide proof of his past and their friendship.
O'Neill decided to give Daniel some time and planned to speak with him again soon. Meanwhile, Willow and Jonas were sent back into the city to search for any information regarding weapons that could aid in the fight against Anubis. Nearly an hour later, after finding nothing of value, O'Neill radioed them with an update—Daniel had agreed to return to Earth.
However, with no new intelligence on Ancient weapons research from Vis Uban, the SGC remained at a disadvantage. A few days later, a plan was devised to create a fake tablet containing details of powerful Ancient weapons research, intending to deceive Anubis. The trick worked—for the most part. Anubis ended up in orbit over Kelowna, where he was temporarily defeated thanks to some expert flying by O'Neill and Carter in an F-304 fighter.
During the mission, Daniel gradually regained his memories, at least enough to recognize SG-1 as his allies. A few months later, Jonas returned to Kelowna, while Daniel fully rejoined SG-1 and the SGC for good.
SGC, several days later.
And things didn't stop for Willow. Week after week, she found herself on one interesting mission after another. Sometimes, there was combat with Jaffa. Other times, diplomacy took center stage. Occasionally, both occurred—negotiating with the locals only to end up fighting Jaffa afterward.
However, one of the most unusual missions took place on Earth. At least, it started there. A few days after Anubis's defeat over Kelowna, a teenage version of Colonel O'Neill appeared at the SGC. At first, everyone assumed he had somehow been de-aged. SG-1 and General Hammond immediately turned to Willow, with O'Neill himself asking if this was the result of "magical shenanigans."
Willow shrugged. "I haven't practiced magic for at least four years… especially not something as complex as reversing someone's age."
Later, the team would learn that this younger O'Neill was actually a clone, created by the Asgard scientist Loki. During the incident, Willow also had the chance to meet Thor, the Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet. The sight of the grey-skinned alien left her staring, mouth open in astonishment. It was the first time she had ever encountered a non-human being. And, notably, he wasn't wearing pants. That was certainly something new for the redhead.
Then came the incident with Major Carter and the Prometheus—Earth's first interstellar spaceship. During a test of its Goa'uld hyperdrive engine, the vessel vanished. The entire SGC was on edge when the Prometheus missed its scheduled check-in. General Hammond ordered various SG teams to search planets along the ship's planned flight path. Willow accompanied SG-1 on multiple search missions, but day after day, they found nothing.
While everyone was worried, Willow saw firsthand how much the situation weighed on Colonel O'Neill. He was quieter than usual, his concern etched across his face. He looked tense, almost restless. An idea formed in Willow's mind, but she had no clue if it would work.
Even though she hadn't been practicing magic and lacked her books, she knew a basic location spell. The problem? Such spells were designed to locate people on Earth, not someone lost in the vastness of space. She couldn't ask Tara for help—not without explaining why she needed a spell that accounted for interstellar distances.
So, for the next few days, Willow scoured the internet for ideas, even venturing into the dark web, where sites dealing in dark magic lurked. Some of the spells she found called out to her, but she always clicked away.
In the end, all she could offer was a standard location spell. No enhancements, no special boosts—just the basic version. Sitting in the computer lab, she stared at the screen and rubbed the back of her head.
Then an idea struck. Maybe she could amplify the spell by drawing on a planet's magical energy. If it worked, it would act like a battery, extending the range of her "magical radar."
Carter was lost somewhere in space. Willow couldn't hold back anymore. She shut down her computer and rushed out of the lab, heading straight to Colonel O'Neill. She had to tell him her idea, even though there was a good chance he'd dismiss it as ridiculous.
"Red," the Colonel said, rubbing his temples after she made her pitch, "I know you mean well, but I think the best way to find Carter and the Prometheus is to keep doing what we're doing now. I'm not saying I don't believe in magic or your abilities—I was there when you dropped in. And then there was that ball of light you showed us the next day." He sighed. "But we can't just stop looking while you do your thing."
"I'm not saying we stop searching, sir," Willow insisted. "I just think we should try every possible option. If I can find her, at least she'll know we're looking for her."
O'Neill studied her for a moment. "Is there any guarantee this will work, Red?"
Willow shook her head. "No, Colonel. There's no guarantee. But I think it's worth a try—especially if it means finding out whether she and the crew are alright."
The Colonel sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "I hope I won't be sent to the funny farm for this, but I'll take your plan to General Hammond. I think you should come along too—he'll probably have questions."
"Yes, sir," Willow said, relieved.
Meanwhile, just outside Sacramento.
Faith leaned against the passenger-side door of the nondescript black sedan, arms crossed, watching the world roll by in a blur of neon lights and darkened streets. It felt surreal—like she had just blinked, and suddenly, freedom.
The man driving—a Watcher type, mid-forties, stiff as a board—had introduced himself as Collin Clarkson. Some low-ranking Council guy, she supposed. He didn't seem to be much for small talk, which suited her just fine.
The car was too quiet. So, Faith broke the silence first.
"You don't have to say it," she muttered, watching the headlights of an incoming truck. "I should be grateful, right? The Council pulled some strings, got me out early. So now, I owe you?"
Clarkson didn't take his eyes off the road.
"The Council debated your release. The vote was… close."
Faith smirked. "Yeah? Bet Giles voted 'no.'"
There was a pause.
"Giles wasn't informed."
That made her look over. "Buffy?"
Clarkson shook his head. "Also unaware."
Okay, that was weird. Faith sat up a little. "Why?"
Clarkson exhaled, like this was the part of the conversation he'd been dreading.
"There's been unusual chatter. Unconfirmed reports. Whispers of something coming. And your name—as well as that of Miss Summers—keeps coming up."
Faith frowned. "My name too?"
"The Council doesn't know what's coming or if it's even real. But after deliberation, they decided it was best to get you out. If there's a threat, you'll be safer with Miss Summers."
She snorted. "Safer with B? Yeah, 'cause we've got such a great track record."
Clarkson ignored that.
"You're being taken to a safe house outside Sacramento for the night. From there, you'll be transferred to Sunnydale in the morning."
Something about the whole thing felt off. But Faith knew better than to push. She was out of prison. She was free. That was enough—for now.
They reached the safe house later that night. It looked like standard Watcher fare from the inside—sterile, all business, no personality.
Faith had spent the past hour or so pacing the living room, too wired to sleep, when she heard the first sound.
A soft knock.
She turned, frowning. One of her handlers—a younger Watcher named Brent—moved toward the door.
Clarkson stood, already on alert. "Check the cameras."
Brent nodded, stepping toward the monitor—then the door burst inward.
Robed figures flooded inside. Fast. Precise. Human, but moving like they had training.
Clarkson barely had time to shout before a blade slashed across his throat.
Faith was already moving.
She spun, kicking the first attacker hard enough to send them sprawling. The second swung a dagger; she caught their wrist and twisted hard. A scream, a snap, and they were down.
Brent barely got off a single shout before a spell struck him in the chest, flinging him across the room. Faith heard the sickening crack of his skull hitting the wall.
Two more robed figures stepped forward, hands glowing with pulsing green energy.
"Faith Lehane," one of them said, almost reverently. "You don't have to fight us. We're here to offer you a place in the new order."
The Slayer rolled her shoulders. "Yeah? Pretty sure 'new order' types don't usually start with a body count."
"Buffy Summers is tainted. Corrupted beyond saving." The voice was calm, assured. "The Watchers let the Slayer line rot. We will fix it. You don't have to be part of the corruption, Faith. You can be purified. You can be the one true Slayer."
Faith felt her stomach twist. "Right. So, what, this is some kinda Slayer cult?"
"We are the faithful."
Faith shook her head. "Yeah, hard pass."
The air shifted. She felt it before she saw it—power pulling at her, draining her.
Her knees almost buckled as a sudden wave of weakness washed over her.
It was magic.
Faith's eyes snapped up, and she didn't hesitate. She attacked.
She moved through them like a hurricane—dodging, striking, breaking. She didn't want to kill them. They were human after all—except for their eyes, which seemed to glow. She hadn't noticed it before. Not until now.
She saw the way they looked at her. Like they had already decided she wasn't a person—just a piece in their puzzle.
They weren't stopping.
Neither was she.
Faith's fist caved in a cultist's throat. Another she sent crashing into a bookcase. She grabbed a third by the wrist—twisted, heard the snap, stabbed them—then threw them aside.
Suddenly, the remaining cultists dropped to their knees.
They didn't beg.
They didn't fight.
Instead, they slit their own throats.
Blood pooled on the floor.
Faith stood there, breathing hard, heart pounding.
What the hell was this?
Her hands were shaking.
She needed to get to Sunnydale.
Now.
USAF Vessel Prometheus, location unknown, a day later.
Since the crew of the Prometheus used the ship's escape pods after an unprovoked attack by an unknown alien vessel, Carter was now all alone aboard Earth's first spacefaring vessel. Due to a concussion, she received when engaging the hyperdrive to jump into a gas cloud, she began experiencing hallucinations of Daniel, Teal'c, and a young girl named Grace. Initially, she thought Grace might represent Willow, since Carter still saw the newest member of SG-1 as a young and innocent girl. However, this Grace insisted that she was not the red-haired girl from Sunnydale.
Carter drifted in and out of consciousness so frequently that, after a while, she lost track of time aboard the Prometheus, which remained unmoving in the gas cloud.
Hours later, while Carter was sitting in the mess hall after speaking with the hallucination of her father, she suddenly heard a familiar voice echoing through the halls of the ship.
"Major Carter? Major! Where are you?"
It was Willow's voice. Carter perked up, then shook her head. No, it couldn't be. She was just hearing things. Willow yelled again, her voice drawing closer. No! Carter thought to herself. It was just another hallucination. First Daniel, then Teal'c, then that little girl who called herself Grace, and then her father. Now she was hearing Willow.
"Major!"
Carter froze. The voice was nearby now, but she couldn't hear any footsteps.
The illusion of her father urged her to go, but Carter gulped and whispered that Willow wasn't on the crew. It had to be another hallucination.
Just as she spoke, she noticed movement and looked up from her smiling father.
"Major!"
Carter stood as Willow suddenly skidded to a stop at the entrance to the mess hall. She was wearing her BDUs and tactical vest but carried no weapons. Someone from an SG team without weapons? Yes, this had to be a figment of Carter's imagination. Of course, it was. But still, it was nice to speak to someone different.
"Willow?" Major Carter said as she walked around the table. Her head still throbbed, and dizziness made her steps unsteady.
Carter thought she heard Willow groan before she bent down, hands on her knees, panting. Why is she breathing so hard? Carter wondered. She's just a hallucination. But why would a hallucination act so dramatically?
"You're a hallucination," Carter said as she ambled past Willow, who was now standing upright. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her. Was it just a result of the concussion? She knew she shouldn't close her eyes. If she did, she might not wake up. She couldn't sleep. No… she mustn't.
Carter leaned against the wall and stared at the image of Willow—sweating, breathing heavily, swaying slightly as if she were struggling to stay upright. Then, suddenly, she flickered.
A hallucination isn't supposed to do that, right?
"Technically, I'm not your hallucination," Willow panted. Carter could see she was barely managing to stay on her feet. Trying to steady herself, Willow continued, "But then again, I'm not really here, Major. I'm on P4H-556 with Daniel, Teal'c, and Colonel O'Neill."
"How are you here, then?" Carter groaned. "No… you're lying, aren't you? Just a hallucination trying to make me feel better."
With her back against the wall, Carter slid down to a sitting position, drawing her knees up. "I'm so tired."
"Major, I swear I'm not a hallucination. You have to believe me," Willow pleaded, still panting. Carter narrowed her eyes at the beads of sweat rolling down Willow's face.
Willow closed her eyes and winced before clutching her chest. "I… I performed a location spell, used the magic of an entire world and… and I'm not used to this… found you… far away…"
Carter slowly stood. Could Willow be telling the truth?
"Major, Colonel O'Neill wants to know the condition of the ship and the crew," Willow said.
"Are you really here, Willow? Is the Colonel really with you?" Carter asked, her eyes brimming with tears. She reached for Willow's face, but her fingers touched only air.
"Yes and no, to the first question. Yes, to the second," Willow clarified. "This is just an astral projection of myself… there's too much power going through me. Colonel O'Neill, Daniel, and Teal'c are watching over my body while I'm here. I know you don't believe in that, but it's the truth."
"Willow, you're bleeding," Carter murmured, noticing blood trickling from Willow's nose.
"Can't be helped, Major. Too much power going through me…" Willow said weakly. "Anyway… I'm not sure how long I can stay. What's the situation?"
"The hull is damaged."
"I looked out the windows," Willow panted, struggling to speak. "You're in a gas cloud."
"The gases in this cloud are extremely corrosive, and the crew is gone. All the escape pods ejected," Carter said, clinging to the hope that Willow was real.
"What about you, Major? We need to know. To be honest, Colonel O'Neill's been super worried," Willow smirked before closing her eyes. Her head lolled to one side, but she snapped back to attention.
"I'm having hallucinations. I hit my head hard when I activated the hyperdrive for a short-range jump. Tell Colonel O'Neill he worries too much," Carter said.
"Major, we'll do everything to come for you," Willow assured her. "But… but if the cloud is as corrosive as—"
Willow flickered again, gasping as she clutched her chest, then vanished.
"Willow, wait!" Carter yelled before whispering, "Please stay."
Silence.
She was alone again.
London, Watchers Council Headquarters, at that same time.
The Council's halls were never silent. Even at night, voices murmured over old tomes, papers rustled, and footsteps echoed across the ancient stone floors.
Tonight though, the air felt different.
Senior Watcher Marian Hawthorne frowned as she checked the security feeds. There was movement at the East Gate. Too many shadows where there should be none.
Then–static.
The cameras cut out.
Marian grabbed the nearby radio, calling for security to check the East Gate for any intruders. But a distant boom rattled the windows. The lights flickered. There were the sounds of footsteps–too many–in the halls.
Then a second explosion. This one was closer.
Marian exhaled sharply, "oh hell!"
The radio slipped from her fingers as the wall behind her shattered, flame and shrapnel swallowing her scream.
New York City, New York.
Watcher Nathaniel Crane had been prepared for attacks-just not tonight. Not while he was in the middle of transferring three freshly located Potentials to other Watchers. Not while these potentials were barely twelve years old.
The safe house door exploded inwards, men in black robes poured through, their eyes unnaturally bright.
Nathaniel shooed the girls toward the back exit. "Run!" he yelled.
One of the Potentials froze, staring at the attackers, eyes wide. "They-They're chanting…"
Nathaniel turned-just in time to see symbols glowing on the palms of the men in robes.
Magic.
The air crackled, and a pulse of energy slammed through the room.
The lights burst, glass flying everywhere.
Nathaniel barely had time to throw himself over the girls before the world went white.
Rome, Italy.
Watcher Luca Donati opened the door without checking. A big mistake.
The moment the chain slipped free, something hit the door from the other side. Hard.
Luca staggered back as three hooded figures rushed inside, their footsteps eerily silent. He reached for the dagger on the nearby table. But he was too slow.
A hand clamped over his mouth. Fingers ice cold, pressing against his skin like damp clay.
"You should have stayed hidden, Luca," whispered a familiar voice.
He knew that voice. 'Elena?'
She had died last month in an accident. Yes, according to reports, she died. In an accident.
His Potential Slayer was dragged away screaming.
Luca fought, thrashing - but then the world went dark.
Moscow, Russia.
Watcher Alexei Petrov hated the cold. He also hated that he was about to die in it.
The men and women in the black robes had cut off every possible escape route.
Alexei had managed to get his potential out, shoving her onto a moving subway train just minutes before the attack.
Now he was alone in a dark alley, with three of these… enemies… slowly closing in.
One of them, a woman, smiled.
"You should be honored," she purred in flawless Russian. "The Unmaker has chosen this night to begin the cleansing."
Alexei took a breath.
He drew out a dagger from beneath his coat. The fight was brutal. He got some good jabs in. As did the figures. Ultimately, Alexei was beaten. He lay on the road, the asphalt beneath him wet with is blood. And then darkness took him. He just hoped his Potential Slayer made it out of Moscow.
Sao Paolo, Brazil.
He felt his body burning.
Watcher Vasquez ran across the rooftops, blood dripping from a gash in his side.
Behind him, three of the robed individuals pursued him-leaping impossibly far, inhumanly fast.
His mission had been simple: get his Potential out. He had failed. She had been taken.
Vasquez reached the edge of the rooftop and skidded to a stop. There was no way forward.
The figures behind him slowed, their eyes glowing with dark energy.
One of them, a man with jagged scars down his face, stepped forward.
"The Unmaker welcomes you," he murmured. "No need to run anymore."
Vasquez smirked, breathing heavily. "Oh, I'm not running."
He turned-and dropped backward off the roof.
The last thing he heard before hitting the water below was the male figure's frustrated snarl.
London, England – the Watchers Council, Final Moments.
Some watchers had managed to escape.
Most had not.
The first blast had taken out the east wing.
The second one collapsed the archives.
By the time survivors reached the basement, the entire building was burning.
Senior Watcher Edgar Blake had blood running down his face as he recorded the final message.
"Rupert… listen. We're compromised. The Council… it's gone. They're everywhere. Potentials are being taken. It's-it's coordinated. Someone-"
A distant shriek.
The sound of the door being torn open.
Blake turned; eyes wide-
The final explosion consumed everything.
Sunnydale, a minute before the Watcher Council destruction.
The phone rang.
Giles woke up with a start, knocking over a half-empty cup of tea. By the time he reached the phone, it had already gone to voicemail. He frowned. It was early in the morning.
His gaze drifted to the answering machine. The red light was blinking. So he pressed the play button. There was static for a few seconds. And then Blake's voice.
Giles listened, his expression hardening. When the message ended, he stood perfectly still for several seconds. Then he reached for his coat. He was out the door within seconds. And just as he locked his door, the phone rang again. Giles stumbled with the lock, before opening the door and rushing to the phone. He picked up the receiver.
The line crackled with static for a second.
"Hello?"
A new voice answered. Desperate. Accented.
"Mr. Giles-they're everywhere. The Council-It's gone! You have to-"
Then there was screaming. Giles yelled into the phone. Then a thunderous explosion.
Then, there was silence.
The line went dead.
Giles exhaled sharply, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He grabbed a pen and paper, writing down some names. He had to warn Buffy. He had to find out who was left. He had to stop whatever the hell had just begun.
To be continued.