For the first time since her resurrection -- no, since long before that, back before her mom got sick -- Buffy awoke without the heaviness of depression weighing her down. She felt almost as much fear and amger as anticipation, but even the negative energy counted as energy, and it jolted her with the power she'd been lacking.

As she padded into the bathroom for her morning shower, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Buffy gasped, shocked by her own reflection; her hair was so dirty, her face so pale. Her anguish had left its mark on her, and even if her spirits had improved somewhat, her body hadn't quite caught up. "No wonder Angel got wigged," Buffy muttered as she began to soap up.

She knew, of course, that her appearance hadn't made one damn bit of difference in his reaction. But Buffy couldn't quite help wishing she'd made her first entrance in 350 years looking a little less scary.

Xiaoting and Agatha were both excited abou the upcoming change in scenery; Agatha had everything packed up in a neat little bundle before Buffy even woke up, and Xiaoting was humming as she flitted around, getting ready in a far more disorganized fashion. Noor seemed more resigned than anything else, and Sumiko was packing just to copy the others, which Buffy thought must get awfully tiresome after a while.

Buffy tried to give Sumiko a sympathetic smile or two, and once or twice made a move to help her fold up clothes. But Sumiko pulled away. Apparently Buffy's association with Angel was too great a betrayal to forgive.

If only I could explain, Buffy thought. Then again, would it really make a difference? There are gonna be a lot of people who can't handle it, even though they do know the full story. There always were.

When their Watchers arrived, Xiaoting practically bounded forward. "Are we ready to go?"

"Certainly," her Watcher said with a maternal chuckle. "We'll get you girls back down to the transport."

"I don't think so," Buffy said.

They all turned to stare at her; Frances, in particular, looked pained. After a moment, Frances said, "You don't mean to come to the Keep at all? You're refusing to help?"

"And the Olympic gold medalist for the high jump to conclusions is Frances Keeling," Buffy said. "I just meant -- I'd like to walk."

She hadn't known she was going to say that until it popped out. No sooner had she spoken, though, Buffy knew that was exactly what she needed. To be free, on her own, just for a few minutes. And to be able to look at this caved-in world on her own terms.

Frances gave her an awkward smile. "It's three miles, Buffy. And it's rather uncertain out there --"

"I thought I was supposed to be dealing with that," Buffy said. "Not avoiding it. I have to get to know this place, right? I don't want to live in an ivory tower." She remembered the Watchers' Keep and frowned. "Except, you know, in the literal sense."

Sumiko's Watcher, apparently desperate to speak to a Slayer who might understand him, broke in, "Well, we don't allow solo patrols anymore. Haven't for more than a century. You'll have to have someone with you."

"This isn't a patrol," Buffy said through clenched teeth. "This is a walk. Am I allowed to take walks? Because the whole distinction between doing my job and being a prisoner seems smaller all the time."

"Of course you're allowed to go for a walk, Buffy," Frances said. "The rest of you go on. I would like to speak with Buffy for a moment."

The others wandered out, Xiaoting making a face behind Frances' back as she went. Buffy bit her lip not to smile.

When they were alone, Frances took a deep breath and began speaking in a measured, rehearsed tone. "Buffy, I realize how shocking all of this has been for you. And the situation you are attempting to absorb is complex. But I do wish you would consider, for a moment, that perhaps not everyone is attempting to harm you. This project was begun for the highest motives and only after due consideration, and --"

"Can it," Buffy said. "You can talk all you want about high motives, but the fact is, you treated us like your dirty little secret until yesterday. You didn't tell them the truth, and you didn't tell me the truth."

"Buffy, I told you as much as I knew," Frances said, more honestly. "I've been given access to Rupert Giles' full records now. I've not had time to read them all, but -- ah, some of the peculiarities you mentioned do seem to show up."

"I knew Giles couldn't resist," Buffy said. "But hey, okay, let's say I'm cool with all this. You, Frances, did not lie to me, Buffy. But what about Markwith?"

"You heard him last night, Buffy --"

"That's just his reason for lying to me," Buffy said. "I thought about it a lot last night, and you know what I couldn't come up with? His reason for lying to you."

Frances straightened her back. Her lips compressed into a thin line. "That's quite enough," Frances said. "It's not your place to question Markwith's motives."

"Not your place either, I guess," Buffy said, slinging her slim pack across her shoulders. "Looks like the only guy who gets to do that is Angel."

When Frances stiffened yet further, Buffy sighed. "You want to give me directions or what?"

*******

Buffy had visited London once before. The summer after she'd graduated from high school -- the summer after she and Angel had broken up -- her mother had attempted to reward and comfort her with a three-week trip. Joyce had come along for the first week, and they'd shopped in Harrods and eaten out and had what her mother considered a very nice time. Buffy's face had hurt from forcing herself to smile.

The second two weeks had been Buffy's own. Joyce had claimed she couldn't leave Dawn or the gallery that long, but Buffy knew that Joyce was hoping her elder daughter would go out, go dancing, find exotic young men to drink and flirt with, maybe even have a vacation fling that would erase Angel from her mind.

Instead, Buffy had spent a lot of time sobbing in her hotel room, sending morose postcards to Willow and writing some extraordinarily bad poetry. All in all, the trip had left a lot to be desired.

But at least London looked better then than it does now, Buffy thought.

Now that she had light to see, and a full range of vision instead of the transport's thin window, she could see more evidence of the damage. Most buildings looked as though they had been abandoned long ago. Yet here and there, amid the damaged buildings, would be one in good condition, with lights and flickers of movement behind the windows, or laundry hanging out on the sill to dry. The curbs were still visible, but the roads had remained uncleaned for so long that they were reverting from pavement into dirt; a few plants had pushed their way through, and some of them had gotten pretty tall. She checked out the car she'd seen the night before with the bloody handprint. With her Sunnydale High education, Buffy quickly realized the blood had been there for a long time. Apparently nobody was in charge of crime-scene cleanup anymore. The whole city's a crime scene, she thought.

As she got closer to the Keep, though, the situation changed for the better.

She started to see people.

At first there were just one or two at a time, hurrying along back to their homes, wherever they'd staked their claim. They wore clothes even more drab and shapeless than the ones she'd seen so far, and they clutched cloth bags close to them, as though scared their belongings would be taken at any moment.

Every few blocks, though, Buffy would begin to see more and more people, and they were more relaxed -- talking to one another, greeting people who were obviously friends or neighbors. She was startled when she saw the first pushcart, trundled along by a man offering potatoes to apparently eager customers. By the time she was within sight of the Keep, though, there were literally dozens of these pushcarts around, trading cloth and produce and simple tools.

Xander would say I've truly come home, Buffy thought. I found the mall.

One cart caught Buffy's eyes, and she started. It was piled high with cloth -- most of it in the plain white and dark gray and olive green she'd become so used to in the past weeks. But her eyes were caught by a few things -- tucked almost out of sight -- in dark red and regal blue. She jogged up to the cart. "Can I see those?" she said.

The woman behind the cart, a stout, sweet-faced lady with hip-length dark hair, raised her eyebrows as she smiled. "You're not afraid, then."

"Not of primary colors, anyway," Buffy said. The fabric was light and surprisingly soft; though it was flimsier than the garb the Watchers had given her, it was also obviously a lot prettier.She was surprised how much something so simple could cheer her. "Oooh, nice. What do you want for this fabric?"

The woman smiled and, to Buffy's surprise, took the question literally. "What will you trade me?"

"Haven't got much," Buffy said. She pulled down her pack, realizing that money was probably as thing of the past too. And, with all her possessions easily lifted in one hand, she wasn't very well-prepared for bartering. "A lot of clothes, but you probably don't need fabric, seeing as how you sell fabric. Not really much else, except an apple I swiped at breakfast and a few sheets of paper --"

"Paper?" the woman's face lit up. "You have paper?"

"Yeah," Buffy said. "Only have about ten sheets left --"

"Ten sheets! Will you part with them?"

Buffy shrugged as she quirked her mouth. "You got it."

The woman took the paper with a trembling hand, then quickly handed over thick bundles of red and blue fabric, all the bright cloth she had. "You have no idea what this means. If you ever get any more, please do come back. I'll trade at any time. Or set up other trades for you, if you like. I'm Tam. I come here twice a week."

"Tam," Buffy repeated as she put out her hand to shake. She felt absurdly glad to know any person who wasn't a Watcher or Slayer. "I'm Buffy. Didn't realize paper was such a commodity in these parts. Makes sense, though. Not a whole lot of logging going on."

"We make our own, of course, but it's hard to make the quantities and grades we need," Tam said. "Where does your group get such fine quality? This is lovely."

Buffy frowned a little. Her group? She asked a different question aloud. "How come you don't make more cloth like this? I'd think people would be buying the red and blue like crazy."

"Most people don't like the extra attention," Tam said. "Most people can't protect themselves from it."

"You mean, the whole vamps-jam-on-bright-colors thing?" Buffy frowned. "It doesn't really make that big a difference. I mean, they like the flash, but they're not that much more likely to strike because of it."

Tam shrugged. "But every bit helps, doesn't it?"

"Guess it does," Buffy said. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that, in a desperate situation, people would clutch at any means of improving their chances of not being picked out for a vampire's lunch. She managed to compress her new acquisitions into her pack, then shouldered it again. "So, just curious on this point -- how did you know I'd be able to protect myself?"

Tam creased her forehead in puzzlement. "You had paper. You didn't think I'd know?"

Buffy thought about this for a second, then remembered what Markwith and Frances had told her. "Oh, witchcraft! You're a witch?"

Tam's round face went ghostly pale and looked around quickly. "Please! Your voice --"

"I'm sorry!" Buffy said, holding her palms out toward Tam. Too late, the rest of what Markwith and Frances had told her was sinking in -- the part about witchcraft being forbidden for all but a few, one of whom Tam apparently was not.

"It's all right," Tam said, breathing a little more easily. "Nobody unusual was about. My friends here, they know. But you can't ever say when somebody from the Council might be coming by."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Never know when they'll turn up."

Tam repiled her things on her cart and prepared to push it away. "I'm moving on just in case anybody thinks of mentioning this. You won't, will you? Do you promise?"

"You kidding?" Buffy said weakly. "I'm the one with all the incriminating paper."

Tam hesitated a moment longer, then smiled at her unevenly. "Then return when you've got more."

With that Tam trundled off. Buffy watched her go until she was sure Tam wouldn't turn back. Then she headed toward the entrance to the Keep.

***********

Frances rushed Buffy through her introduction to her new home; apparently the others had gotten a nice lunch and a tour for their trouble. Buffy got a few minutes to change clothes and get a glance at her new, private apartment -- which, though roomy, was still too bland and empty for Buffy's taste -- before she dumped her pack on the bed and hurried up to the new training room.

Buffy gave a low whistle as she walked into the room -- almost football-field long, with walls that displayed an array of weapons such as Buffy had never seen. The other Slayers, all five of them, were going through a kata Buffy vaguely remembered from her late-fall burst of slaying enthusiasm. "This is like Fort Knox for armaments," Buffy said. "Way cool."

"At last you have decided to come work," Noor said. She was sweating from exertion. "Did you enjoy your pleasant stroll?"

"As much as you enjoyed your pleasant lunch," Buffy shot back. But Noor only gave her a small smile in response, and Buffy wondered how much of Noor's bad humor was just for show, after all.

Buffy took a place in the back near Xiaoting and slipped easily into the moves of the kata. As she feigned a twist kick, she whispered, "Got some gorgeous fabric. Actual colors and everything. We won't have to wear the Chairman Mao spring collection any more."

"Chairman Mao -- that sounds sort of familiar," Xiaoting mused quietly as they reached toward the sky, then brought their arms down in two sharp blocks.

As the kata ended, they each bowed quickly to the Watcher leading the kata. Xiaoting then turned to Buffy. "Thank goodness you've got something with some color in it," she said. "These things are boring me to tears."

"I rather like these clothes," Agatha said, holding one loose-trousered leg out for inspection. "You've no idea how wretched it was, trying to slay in a corset."

"Ugh," Buffy said. "Didn't you pass out?"

"Sometimes," Agatha said. "But most nights I simply used my bow and arrow. And I do have to admit, hoop skirts were excellent for concealing weapons."

"I remember thinking that," Buffy said, flashing back to a Halloween centuries past.

"Vanity," Noor sniffed. "We are here to do a job, not worry about our finery."

"Or lack thereof," Xiaoting said. "The clothes aren't a distraction, Noor. They're just for fun."

"This isn't about fun," Agatha said.

As they bickered, Buffy looked past them to see Sumiko and Sky. Both of them were sitting on the floor near the front, waiting for the Watcher to lead the next exercise. Sumiko's eyes were shut, her expression serene.

Sky looked as miserable as only a young teenage girl can look. Her arms were folded across her chest, her lanky legs tucked awkwardly up under her, and her face set in a sulk. Buffy had a sudden, piercing recollection of Dawn, and she had to close her eyes for a long moment.

Buffy stepped away from the others, who by now were too involved in their argument to notice, and went to Sky's side. "Hey," she said. Sky jumped at the sound, then half-turned toward her with a scowl. "How's it going?" Buffy offered. "I mean, how are you?"

"Useless, thanks."

"I know it's a drag," Buffy said. "Having other Slayers show up? Happened to me too, you know."

"You all showed up together," Sky said in the same grudging voice. "You're all a team, aren't you?"

"In a manner of speaking," Buffy said. "But that's not what I meant. Before -- way back in ye olden times of the 20th century -- I had another Slayer show up."

That caught Sky's interest, and she looked up at Buffy with ill-hidden curiosity. "You're telling me a story. There's only ever been one Slayer at a time. Didn't they ever tell you? One Slayer dies --"

"The next is called," Buffy said. "If I had a nickle for every time I heard that -- well, now that money's useless, I would actually not be any better off. So let's get back to the point, which is that I have had the pleasure of coming back from the dead before this. I'm getting pretty good at it."

"You died and came back again -- again?" Sky said. Her curiosity was winning out over her attitude at last, and she got to her feet. Buffy tilted her head up as Sky slowly pulled herself up to her full height -- which appeared to be an inch or two more than Riley could have claimed.

"Uh, yeah," Buffy said. trying not to be disconcerted at talking to a giantess. "The first time, I got drowned by a vampire master. Fortunately two friends of mine -- one of them being Angel -- showed up to help. The other friend, Xander, was able to resuscitate me."

"And that called another Slayer?" Sky said.

"Her name was Kendra," Buffy said. She was beginning to feel a little misty, talking about Xander and now Kendra. She'd never thought to say any of their names again. "She was terrific. And she would have fit in here so much better than me."

After Kendra came Faith, Buffy remembered, and the mist cleared right up. Weird -- she hadn't thought about Faith being dead and lost too. And she still wasn't sure she cared.

I ought to care, Buffy thought. But her heart was unmoved.

"Two Slayers at one time," Sky said. A bit of the pout reappeared. "Now there's six. You can't tell me that's not a crowd."

Buffy turned her attention back to the young girl. "Listen, when Kendra first showed up and laid her whole we-are-the-chosen-two thing on me, I was not happy. I was all, hey, you, get off of my cloud, you know?"

From the perplexed expression on Sky's face, Buffy could tell she needed to get a bit more literal. "I hated it, at first. I thought it made me less important. But really it just made me less alone."

Sky sighed. "It's just -- the Slayer before me was so good. Inez lived for three years, and she was smart and talented and beautiful, too, a real stunner."

"She stood out," Buffy said. "That's okay. You'll stand out too. Find the thing you do best, and do it like crazy. Ask them if there's not something else you can do -- something new, something Inez didn't do. You can make them see that you're special."

Sky's young face was torn between hope and doubt. After a moment, she said, "The people loved her. I've been at it two months now, and I mean, they respect me, but -- they don't love me."

"They're gonna love you," Buffy said with assurance. "Give 'em time. We're not that cuddly a group, actually."

At that very moment, Noor said, "I am tired of your frivolity and your ridiculous concerns!"

"And I am sick and tired of being lectured at every turn by a sour, angry --"

Xiaoting was interrupted by the Watcher in charge. "Ah -- perhaps that's enough of a break, then?"

The others turned back to him; he was holding an armful of quarterstaffs. "I had thought we, ah, might try some quarterstaff work, if ever you need to get a vampire out of your immediate proximity --"

"Sounds great," Xiaoting said, stalking forward to grab her weapon. Noor followed suit, and the two of them were soon poised to square off.

The Watcher, attempting to exert some authority, said, "No, no. Let's, ah -- let's match up by height, shall we? Most even that way."

"It won't be even out there," Noor said, still glaring at Xiaoting.

"Come along now. Let's see -- that puts Sky and Agatha together --" The two tallest Slayers moved to their corner. "Then Noor and Buffy, and Xiaoting and Sumiko." Sumiko, understanding her name, looked up from her quiet meditation on the floor, got to her feet, and obediently took the quarterstaff Xiaoting offered.

"You are shorter than Xiaoting," Noor muttered as they faced off.

"About the same, I think," Buffy said uneasily. Noor looked furious, and Buffy had never really done a lot of serious quarterstaff fighting --

"Begin!" the Watcher shouted, and Noor swung her staff toward Buffy -- and Buffy parried it easily, twisted it around, disarmed Noor in a stroke. Noor somersaulted backwards to catch the staff before it hit the ground, but Buffy was on her in a moment. She let loose with strike after strike, never letting Noor get her bearings. After a minute she tried the twist again. It worked again, and Noor's staff spun off into the wall.

From her half-crouching position, Noor stared up at Buffy, amazed. "What is this? You come at me like a crazy person. And you have spent the last two weeks sleepwalking."

Sleepwalking. That was as good a term as any for the way she'd been dragging around. Today, though -- she was no less sad, no less bewildered about her surroundings. But everything had begun to change because of Angel. Not because he was here himself, she realized -- or, at any rate, not only because he was here. But because of what she could now know. What she could at last bear to hear.

Buffy took a deep breath and smiled. "I guess I woke up."

*

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