Faith pulled her motorcycle up to the front of a house that looked different from the others around it in only the most superficial of ways – light blue siding instead of cream, the door to the right of the window instead of to the left. It was all so generically lacking character that Faith couldn't help but roll her eyes. She turned off the bike's engine and lowered the kickstand, stretching as she stood to work out some of the kinks in her back. With one final glance at the paper in her hand to make sure she had the right house number, Faith strode to the door and rang the doorbell. She didn't recognize the overly elaborate tune that she heard playing inside. That fact didn't bother her.

The door opened tentatively to reveal a pair of large blue eyes and a face framed by shoulder-length light brown hair that looked as though it was perpetually messy. The girl blinked at Faith, seemingly taken aback by the Slayer's predominantly leather outfit, which seemed out of place in the middle of the suburban wasteland.

"Hazel MacFadden?" Faith asked, her voice rough and gravelly from the road.

Hazel's eyes widened even further. "Yes?"

"Hey. I'm Faith. I spoke to you on the phone last night."

Recognition suddenly dawned on Hazel's face, and any trace of nervous suspicion fled. "Yeah!" she exclaimed with obvious excitement. "Yeah, hi! Hi. Uhm ... Hi," she finished lamely.

"I think we covered that," smirked Faith, highly amused. "Can I come in?"

"Oh god! Yeah, come in." Hazel jumped back out of the doorway and gestured for Faith to come inside. She rolled her eyes at herself and shook her head. "Sorry. I'm just ... This is so freaky. I've been jitters since you called." Closing the door behind them, Hazel led Faith into the living room, swinging her arms back and forth as though unsure what else to do with them.

"I get that a lot," Faith said, shrugging. She looked around the room, admiring the huge vault ceilings and the spaciousness. "Nice place," she complimented.

Hazel glanced around as well. "Thanks. I've lived here all my life." The girl's expression softened as she examined it more closely. "I love this house. I feel so safe and protected here. Like nothing out there can ever get in, you know?" A dark look clouded Hazel's face and she wrapped her arms around herself as though she'd caught a sudden chill. "It used to feel safe. Doesn't feel safe anymore."

"When'd it change?" Faith asked gently.

She didn't answer immediately, instead rubbing her hands up and down her arms. "When I ripped my bedroom door off its hinges," whispered Hazel in a voice so low that Faith might not have caught it if not for Slayer hearing.

Faith watched Hazel for a moment then seemed to reach a decision. "I never had a safe place myself," she said conversationally, moving around the room. "Didn't like to get tied down to one place too long." The Slayer paused and glanced towards Hazel. "Kinda findin' a place now, though. It's a good place." She stopped in the center of the room, catching Hazel's eyes. "For people like you and me."

A moment of understanding passed between them and Hazel lowered her arms. "When you called, that stuff you said..." she began. "How did you know? I mean, no one knows. Not even my parents."

"How'd you explain the door?"

Hazel shuffled her feet, clearly embarrassed. "I told them I tripped and fell into it. They- They thought it was weird, but didn't really ask." She grinned at Faith's chuckle, but quickly became serious again. "But you know. About ... the strength and the speed. And the fact that I'm hungry all the time."

"Oh yeah, you'll be livin' off Wendy's 99-cent menu, lemme tell you," advised Faith, examining a little ceramic knick-knack over the fireplace. She paused and turned back to Hazel, "I know there's some seriously out there stuff goin' on with you right now. I know, cuz I been there."

The girl frowned at Faith, her face etched with confusion.

"You an' me, Haze? We're super-heroes."

Hazel blinked at Faith.

"Huh?"

With an energetic bounce, Willow came down the stairs, turning right at the bottom and heading down the hall towards the living room. "Hey, Xander?" she called out before actually seeing her friend, knowing from the sounds of the television where he would be. Which he was, slumped down listlessly in one of the chairs with an open bottle in one hand and the remote control in the other.

"I'm goin' bonkers all cooped up inside. I was thinkin' about hitting the mall, so I could ... be all cooped up inside ... there." Willow frowned at her lack of logic, but broke into an excited grin as her mind forged a new path of justification. "Oh! But they have skylights and trees, so it's like an artificial outside inside!" She beamed at Xander.

He didn't even glance at her. "Nah, I think I'm just gonna stay here."

Willow moved in front of Xander, not quite blocking the TV but coming close. "Oh, come on! It'll be fun! There's a big squishy pretzel in it for you!" she enticed in a singsong voice. "We can even get some of that way-too-orange faux cheese sauce that one can only find in mall food courts."

Xander finally tore his eye away from the television and smiled at Willow fondly, though he remained slouched in chair looking very dispirited. "Tempting though my colon may find that offer, I think I'll pass. Oprah's got Dr. Phil on, and you know what a rare televisual treat that is."

The redhead gasped at Xander with mock dismay. "You're spurning me for daytime talk shows?" She touched her heart dramatically. "The second you choose Jerry Springer over me, I'm leaving you."

"Aww Will, you know I'll always love you more than the transsexual nazi prostitutes." His tone was teasing but flat, and with a brief, sad smile he returned his full attention to the television.

All traces of humor vanished from Willow's face to be replaced with concern. "C'mon Xander. You need to get out more. You spend practically all day sitting here in front of the TV," she said, gesturing behind her to the object in question. "Even 24/7 Discovery Channel isn't good for you."

"Yeah, but I could now tell you absolutely anything you ever wanted to know about building a car from the husk of a Mercedes with only a single blowtorch, a lawn mower and a synthesizer keyboard," he quipped on automatic.

She reached out and touched his arm. Xander glanced at her, his lone eye connecting with hers for just a moment before looking away again towards the pictures on the screen but staring straight through them.

"I know you've felt kinda ... out of sorts since Sunnydale, but—"

"'Out of sorts' doesn't really begin to cover it," he replied with a touch of bitterness, taking a drink from the bottle clenched tightly in his left hand.

"I-I know, and I understand, I really do," said Willow gently. "But you can't just spend the rest of your life wasting away here. It hurts, but you have people who love you, who want to help you. Do you think Anya would want—"

"Hey, while you're at the mall, do you think you could stop by Suncoast and pick up Bulletproof Monk for me? I got it on pre-order and I think it should be in by now." Xander's voice was lively, sounding much more like his regular self. Neither one of them were fooled.

Willow sighed deeply, but backed away, letting the matter drop. For the moment. "Okay," she said, touching Xander's arm again. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"And this," Andrew announced in an all-important voice, sweeping his arms in a grand flourish, "is my domain. The kitchen." Following Andrew into the room, Judith did her best to appear fascinated. She didn't quite pull it off, but Andrew was so engrossed he didn't notice. "I am Lord and Master over—"

Spying an open jar of peanut butter sitting on the counter, all pretenses vanished. "Hey!" he whined, bringing his hands down with an audible slap to his thighs. He grabbed the jar and brought it up to eye level, shaking it as though it were personally to blame. "I ask for one thing, one tiny thing. Just clean up after yourselves. Like I don't have better things to do with my time!"

Andrew paused while screwing the lid back on the jar and glanced to one side. "Okay, maybe I don't, but I hardly think that's the point, do you?" he asked Judith.

"So ... you're the cook?" she inquired instead, wanting nothing to do with the previous conversation.

Nodding with unabashed pride, Andrew returned the peanut butter to its proper place in one of the many cupboards lining the walls. "Meal preparation is but one of my many duties in our ongoing battle against evil," explained to the blond purposely. "I also ... uhm, I sometimes help Xander build stuff."

Judith raised her eyebrows in interest.

"...When he doesn't chase me away with the power saw," Andrew added half under his breath.

The interest turned to a confused frown.

He continued with greater conviction. "And I help Mr. Giles keep organized with appointments and things like that. Oh, and I also make tea." Andrew grabbed the aforementioned box of Twinings, smiling broadly as he ran his hand underneath and to the sides of the box "Price is Right" style.

"Certain to be the deciding factor on Judgment Day," smirked Judith.

Andrew's smile remained fixed. Then it fell slightly as he puzzled over her words. He eventually decided on a weaker version somewhere in-between.

The new Slayer looked around the kitchen, settling on the large window that dominated the far wall. Outside was any generic peaceful, sunny afternoon. "Trillium though, huh?" she finally asked. "This seems like such a sleepy little town. I can't imagine there being much evil to fight here."

Putting the box down on the counter, Andrew patted Judith's shoulder condescendingly. "Tsk. Young, naïve Padawan," he sighed wistfully, shaking his head. "You have much to learn."

Andrew steepled his fingers together and began to pace slowly around the kitchen, paying no attention to the look Judith was shooting at him. When he spoke, it was with a voice to rival all the best documentary filmmakers. At least in his mind.

"Trillium is actually a fascinating place. You see it's nestled snug in the exact center of a three-Hellmouth triangle. After that unfortunate incident with the Dale of the Sun, our intrepid band of stalwart adventurers had planned to relocate home base to Cleveland, Ohio. Cleveland was, next to Sunnydale, the city with the largest active Hellmouth. But when Buffy led her core group of trusted generals to the—" he made quotation marks with his fingers "—'Mistake on the Lake', her recently redeemed lesbian witch Willow detected a flow of energy away from that Hellmouth."

Andrew paused for dramatic effect. Judith blinked at him. He held the pause for another beat, then spun on his heel and continued.

"The fearless heroes pressed onwards, following the dark power until they arrived here in Trillium. They discovered that the energy from the Cleveland Hellmouth was being drawn by and mingling with the power from two more nearby Hellmouths, both of which had grown mightily since the destruction of Sunnydale – one in Syracuse, New York, and the other in Washington DC."

She had been busy twirling a wooden mixing spoon between her fingers, but upon hearing that, Judith stopped and looked at Andrew with genuine surprise. "DC is on a Hellmouth?"

"You have to admit, it makes a sort of sense," replied Andrew matter-of-factly.

Judith considered this for a moment, and then nodded in a conciliatory gesture.

He continued pacing as though he had never been interrupted. "Realizing that this nexus of energies had the potential to become even more volatile than any singular Hellmouth, Buffy and Company decided to make Trillium their new headquarters. It's only four hours or so away from each of the three nearby Hellmouths, which makes it easy to monitor them and dispatch Slayers as needed. There are decent schools here for the new Slayers to continue their education, including a branch of Penn State. Plus," he grinned, "the constant influx of dark energies really keeps the property values down so we could buy up all this land for Slayer Central."

"So," began Judith, putting it all into her own words, "this is sort of a Bermuda Triangle of evil."

Andrew clapped his hands once and beamed at the girl. "Exactly!"

"Uh oh. You've related to him on some level. He's never going to leave you alone now," Kennedy cautioned, striding into the kitchen and ignoring Andrew's gaping and wounded look. She peered at the countertops, scowling. "Hey, where'd my peanut butter go?"

His jaw moved up and down soundlessly, but Andrew was unable to articulate any words. If Kennedy saw him, she didn't acknowledge it as she hopped upon the counter and reached behind her to retrieve the jar and a tube of crackers from the cupboard. She twisted the top off and tossed it carelessly to one side, fishing out a cracker and using it to scoop peanut butter directly from the container. Andrew's eyes bulged.

"So," Kennedy said, gesturing the cracker in Judith's general direction before popping it into her mouth, "you're new."

"Yeah, I just arrived today. Judith." She offered her hand to Kennedy, who shook it once and grabbed another cracker. "Andrew was giving me the grand tour," Judith smiled at Andrew, who was torn between wanting to smile back at the new Slayer and continue glaring at the old one. He resulted in doing both rather unsuccessfully.

Kennedy snorted. "Poor thing." She munched on another cracker. "Have you done the rec room yet?"

With a glance at Andrew, Judith smirked, "No, but I've already heard so much about it."

As though she had just reached a decision, Kennedy put her snack to the side. "I'll take you," she announced. "If you go with Andy, you might be tempted to impale yourself on a pool cue just to escape the pain."

"Hey!" yelped Andrew indignantly, finally finding his voice.

"Besides," Kennedy muttered, mostly to herself without regard for Andrew's outburst, "I apparently have 'people skills' issues I need to work on. Whatever the hell that's about." She jumped down off the counter, brushing the cracker crumbs from her jeans and t-shirt into the floor without a passing thought and headed towards the exit.

Andrew began to turn an interesting shade of red as he looked from the floor to the abandoned mess on the countertop to Kennedy and back again.

The new Slayer remained rooted to the spot, clearly unsure who she should follow.

Kennedy stood in the doorway and looked back to Judith. "C'mon," she said, gesturing towards the other room with her head. "Unless you want to hear all about why Star Trek V is underrated."

"It is!" Andrew exclaimed waving the dishtowel he was holding for emphasis. "Kirk facing off against God was a brilliant metaphor for hard science replacing blind faith, and Sybok—"

"Coming," Judith told Kennedy without hesitation. As she followed Kennedy out of the room, she turned to Andrew and flashed a smile at him. "Thanks for the tour. I learned a lot."

Andrew stood by the counter and watched them leave. "I didn't say it was better than Wrath of Khan, geez," he complained to an empty room. With a sigh, he began to wipe off the counter top and once more returned the peanut butter to the cupboard.

Hazel shook her head at Faith and stepped forward, as though proximity would bring sudden clarity. "What? Super-heroes? You mean, like, the X-Men or the Fantastic Four?"

"I dunno nothin' about that," answered Faith, "you'd have to ask Xander or somethin'. But yeah, real-live, honest-to-god super-heroes."

Eyes shining, Hazel lowered her voice to a secretive level. "Do we have costumes and codenames and stuff?"

"Hell no," the Slayer responded with a sneer.

Hazel's face fell. "Oh," she said with obvious disappointment.

"But there's this whole thing where we kick evil's ass, and that doesn't suck."

"Oh!" exclaimed Hazel with some of her earlier enthusiasm.

"An' that's why I'm here," continued Faith, capitalizing on the momentum. "See, there used to be just one of us." She paused, reconsidering. "Well, two of us, only one was all prima donna and everyone's little perfect angel and generally a pain in the—" Faith caught herself quickly, waving her hand as though literally cutting off that line of thought. "Anyway, there used to be two, and now there's a whole bunch runnin' around with no clue what the hell's happened to 'em. So we've set up this place where you can come and learn and live and train to kill vamps and demons and stuff."

"See, this is like the X-Men with—" Hazel did a double take. "Wait, kill what?"

"Vamps and demons and stuff," repeated Faith casually. Hazel continued to merely gaze, her expression blank. "Vampires?" she dragged out slowly, expecting Hazel to catch on at any moment.

The girl crossed her arms and stared at Faith. "Get out," she said in disbelief.

"No, really."

"Vampires." Hazel watched Faith closely for any sign that this was all some hugely elaborate joke at her expense. "Fangy, blood-sucking, garlic-hating, Anne Rice-inspiring vampires."

Taking it all in stride, Faith simply said, "Yeah."

"Get out," she restated in the exact same tone.

Faith was amazed. "What's the big? You accept you're a super-hero. You know you can rip sections of your house apart with your bare hands. Why's it so hard to believe you got your powers so you can turn a goth girl's wet dream to dust?"

Her arms still crossed, Hazel shrugged. "I suppose you gotta draw the line somewhere. For some, it was Crystal Pepsi. For others, it's was when Rachel slept with Ross." She shrugged again. "I guess for me it's the thought of turning into a seventeen-year old female Van Helsing."

With an exasperated sigh, Faith began talking to herself. "It's always this part where I lose 'em. I need to start travelin' with demo vamps or somethin'."

She turned to Hazel, pointing at the girl with both hands. "Okay, you don't believe me. That's your choice, I respect that. But I got somethin' to show you. Might just make you see the world a bit different."

Hazel cocked her eyebrow and gave the older woman a wary look. "Okaaaay...?" she drawled.

"Tonight," said Faith. "I'll come back by here, 'bout eight? Be ready."

"Ready for what?"

Faith leveled an intense gaze at Hazel, completely serious.

"Your life to change."

The door to the Scoobies' house swung open and Willow entered, several bags swinging from her hands. She kicked the door closed and spoke loudly into the air, despite not seeing anyone. "That's so much better. Nothing like contributing to our nation's ongoing quest for just the right combination of material goods that equals true happiness."

Following the sounds of the television, Willow made her way into the living room. She found Xander still slumped in the chair in the exact same position she left him. Glancing around, she focused on the collection of empty beer bottles scattered on the nearby table and frowned in concern. Her eyes flicked to Xander, who hadn't acknowledged her return in the slightest. With a deep breath, Willow reset her expression to one of near normality.

"I got your movie," she said, pulling the DVD from one of the bags and offering it to Xander. When he made no move to take it, Willow pulled it back and examined the cover with intense interest. "I have it on good authority that Chow Yun-Fat fights people in this one, so that should be exciting and new. It's good that they're giving him so much range."

She glanced hopefully at Xander. He did nothing but continue to stare straight ahead at the television. She reached into the bag and pulled out another DVD. "I also picked up Dracula 2000 cuz I figured, you know, who can resist a comedy?"

Another expectant peek at Xander. Nothing. Willow's face fell, but soon became determined. "Then," she said, her voice taking on an alluring tone, "I stopped off at Victoria's Secret and picked up a couple of shiny, slinky things for me and Kennedy. Wanna see?"

Willow watched Xander intently for signs of life. Getting none, she dropped to her knees at Xander's side, the packages discarded and forgotten. She reached out and removed the remote from where it was resting limply in his palm. Putting it to one side, she took his hand in both of hers.

"Xander." Willow squeezed his hand tightly, peering at him until Xander finally looked over at her, his face slack with such sadness that Willow felt her eyes tearing up in sympathy. "Xander," she repeated, "I know how much you hurt. And I wanna help." Willow squeezed his hand again and looked at him imploringly. "Please. These mood swings, with the TV and the drinking and ... I'm worried about you. This can't go on."

Xander looked at Willow for a long time, searching her face. Finally, he took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eye tightly. "You're right. It can't."

In response, Willow tightened her grip reassuringly, relief flooding her features.

He opened his eye and met hers, decisively. "That's why I'm leaving."

All signs of relief vanished in an instant.