Disclaimer: Still not Joss Whedon. Drat it.
Rating: PG
Written for the “First Line” Challenge, this line comes from MAKD.

* * *

Buffy is still living in Rome, though she lives alone now. Dawn has moved to ‘greener pastures’, having decided that England and training to be a Watcher under Giles was just the thing for her. Andrew left with her, following Dawn like a page would a queen and Buffy has to stop and think where she might’ve picked up that imagery.

Maybe it doesn’t matter.

There are things to do in Rome and she already feels like she’s done them all. There are only so many famous ruins that will hold her attention and for some reason, Vatican City gives her the creeps. She’s talked it over with Barry, the demon commonly referred to as “The Immortal”. He tells her if she’s bored, to go somewhere else. “Your life isn’t just about slaying anymore,” he reminds her. No, she agrees, it isn’t. But she’s not quite sure what it is about, either.

She wakes from a dream of a dragon swooping low onto an alley, a flash of a sword and her stomach is all clenched, hard enough that she races for the bathroom, not quite sure if she’ll make it in time. When Buffy’s finished cleaning herself up, she reaches for the telephone, for the address book with numbers she’s almost managed to get memorized (it’s those damned foreign country codes that do it to her every time) when the phone chirps.

It’s Faith; who’s had a dream about explosions and earthquakes and the computer is making sounds too, the ones it makes when Buffy has email. She looks to see messages from Willow, from Giles…and a headline mentioning a massive earthquake that triggered explosions in L.A.

Reports keep mentioning scary things, things that shouldn’t be and Buffy throws some clothes in a duffle. While grabbing her passport and credit cards, she calls Giles and finds out he’s already making emergency arrangements for everyone.

She pauses for an instant then makes a call, her voice steady even if she’s not sure if the person she’s calling will ever get the message.

“We’re coming. I’m coming. Hang on, okay?”

Replacing the receiver in the cradle, Buffy glances around her apartment. Except for the flowers on the table, it really doesn’t look as if she’s even lived here. She smiles to herself, hitching the duffle to a more comfortable position on her shoulder and closes the door behind her.

It’s time to go home and kick demon butt.

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