Sonja shook her head slowly, valiantly trying to comprehend what she had just observed. "I've never seen someone so passionate about baking before," she remarked with wonder.

"Talking with Andrew is quite the experience," a smirking Judith agreed.

"Did you see how agitated he got when you told him that only losers use Toll House?"

Giggling, Judith nodded her head, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. "And I only barely know what Toll House is. But irritating Andrew is like our national pastime around here." A thought occurred to her, and she grabbed Sonja's upper arm excitedly. "Oh, you know what's really fun? Just casually mention how Darth Maul is so much cooler than Darth Vader. I swear, he'll turn colors."

"I think this is quite possibly the oddest gathering of people I've ever encountered," chuckled Sonja.

Judith smiled proudly. "Oddly gathered, that's us."

They walked by a large closed door, unremarkable save for the fact that it seemed more ornate than the others around it. And the fact that it was half-covered with signs, which the girls felt compelled to stop and examine closely.

The first ordered, in big red letters, "DO NOT DISTURB". A second piece of paper, taped to the bottom of the first, was bright pink fluorescent stationary that proudly declared itself to be from the desk of Dawn. In a purple pen, someone had written "Spells in progress!" and gone the extra mile to replace the dot over the "i" with a large smiley face. The third and final sign was a generic oversized post-it note. A broad, masculine scrawl warned "Caution: Might get SEXY!"

Glancing at each other, the Slayers erupted into a fit of giggles.

"Okay what...?" Sonja managed to ask, indicating the door.

"Willow's Sanctuary," replied Judith. Noting the other girl's puzzled expression, she elaborated. "Willow. She's this mega-witch. Seriously badass with the power. When you see her she doesn't look like much – a tiny, babbling redheaded bundle of nerves." Judith laughed, amazed. "Some days, it looks like a strong wind could tip her over. But hey, we wouldn't all be here today if not for her. Really makes you think."

Impressed but uncertain of what else to say, Sonja stuck to the basics. "Oh. Wow."

Judith leaned against the doorframe as she continued. "Though I've heard rumors that her spell casting isn't quite what it used to be. Or it's more than it used to be. Some control issues or something, too much power." She shrugged regretfully at Sonja's fascinated expression, unable to provide more information. "I dunno. Anyway, this is her room; she casts all sorts of spells and stuff in there."

Without even attempting to feign pretense, Sonja leaned toward the door and pressed her ear against it, closing her eyes as she strained to listen. Judith was right behind her. After several long moments, they both straightened, disappointment evident.

"That was anticlimactic," Sonja complained, crossing her arms and glaring angrily at the door like it had intentionally held back.

"Yeah," Judith grumpily agreed. "She probably cloaked it, she does that sometimes. Puts up some sort of sound-dampener around the room. She says it's because the spells can get a bit noisy, but ..." Glancing around to make sure they were alone, Judith beckoned for Sonja to come closer, which the blonde girl did eagerly. "We have a bet going around here about its real purpose," confided Judith, "but until someone manages to get Kennedy drunk enough to spill, we'll never know for sure."

She winked lasciviously. Sonja was confused for just a moment before blushing fiercely and giggling again.

"She and Kennedy...?"

"Oh yeah," confirmed the other Slayer, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You know, standing around and gossiping about who's dating who may have never saved the world, but it sure saved me from some boring Saturday nights."

Using her shoulder to push away from the door, Judith continued walking down the hall, Sonja at her heels.

Rosenberg cast a dampening field or something similar around her spell room, and unfortunately I wasn't able to tell what she was doing in there. I'm still at a loss for how to properly gauge her. It seems incongruous to have that much power in someone so apparently weak. From what I've been able to gather, she still suffers from a lack of control, although more in the sense of toning the power down. It begs the question, what would happen if her restraint slipped, even on the simplest of spells? What can one do in the face of all that raw power? And can we afford to find out?

"Kenn, sweetie, Buffy didn't mean it. She's not trying to take your place. Please try to calm down."

Kennedy paced the length of the Sanctuary, her dark hair bouncing in empathetic anger as she pivoted on her heel and stomped back toward the door again. Willow sat on the far side of a casting circle that dominated the center of the room, her head dutifully turning first one way and then the next, tracking the Slayer's ceaseless motions.

"Please?" Willow tried again, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in a smirk. "I'm startin' to feel like I'm at Wimbledon here. Only, you know, without the tennis or the strawberries and cream or the pretension."

With a largely exaggerated sigh, Kennedy came to a halt outside of the circle, facing Willow. She huffed and crossed her arms. "She just drives me up the freakin' wall, y'know? I mean, here I am, working my well-toned and not unimpressive ass off to establish a rapport with these newbies—"

Willow barely stifled a laugh, and looked around the room innocently when Kennedy leveled a dark glare.

"What? Okay, so it's not a rapport filled with peach fuzz and sunshine, but it's a rapport, dammit!" Kennedy threw her hands up in the air and resumed her steady pacing, gesturing her arms around animatedly as she spoke. "They respect me, I don't kick their ass. That's a rapport. So we're good and gettin' in a routine, things're going smoothly. Oh, but wait!" She spun and stomped in the opposite direction. "Here comes the Slayers' answer to Tony Robbins, fresh from her two month break, ready to step in now all the hard work is done and take over my freakin' class!"

As Kennedy's fist raised and pulled back away from the nearest wall, Willow leapt to her feet. "Ah-ah-ah!" she exclaimed in a panicked tone, halting Kennedy's actions long enough to reach her girlfriend's side, careful to not scatter the fine white sand marking the boundary of the casting circle. "No punching! There will be no making with the violence!"

Willow held Kennedy's clenched fist between her hands, gently lowering it but not letting go. Absently, she ran her thumb over the Slayer's knuckles in a soothing gesture and gave Kennedy an admonishing look. "You and that temper of yours. It took me a whole week to cleanse this place of the bad vibes after you went all butch with the wall last time."

Kennedy stuck her lip out in a pout. "Richelle cheated," she said in her best little girl voice.

"It was air hockey, Kenn, what'd she do? Blow on the puck really hard?"

The Slayer's pout became a predatory grin and she leered at Willow. "She was wearing this really loose top, and you know Richelle – the balcony's pretty well filled to capacity. So when she leaned over the table it reminded me of that time when we were at the playground and you got up on the monkey bars and—"

Willow dropped Kennedy's hand and cleared her throat nervously, her face becoming as red as her hair. Kennedy showed no matching sign of discomfort, instead taking a moment to soak up Willow's flustered spluttering.

"Yeah, well, there's that a-and ... Yeah. Yeah, okay, so- so no punching in my sanctum. Okay?" Willow waved her hand in the general direction of the section of wall that had nearly met with a scrunchy end. "It leaves badness. No badness in my goodness."

"Yes ma'am," Kennedy smirked, before her mood darkened again. "But freakin' Buffy..."

With a small sigh, Willow returned to the casting circle, again stepping over the line and making sure not to disturb it. She resumed her position on the far side, sitting Indian style and placing her palms down on her knees before looking back to a scowling Kennedy. "You said she was just talking to them. That doesn't mean she's taking over your class, Kenn, it means she was having a conversation. Don't you think you're maybe over-reacting just a teensy bit...?"

A glare provided all the answer necessary. Willow inhaled deeply and tried once more. "Okay, maybe she stepped on your toes. But we have to give her some time. She just wants to help. And, you know, she's been away for a while so she's still lookin' for her place."

Kennedy resumed her cross-armed stance from earlier, but her anger was quickly burning off so it lacked some of its previous force. "You always take her side," she groused.

"I'm on your side. And her side. I'm multi-sided. I'm the triskaidecagon of this conflict." Kennedy threw a questioning look at Willow, but the redhead either didn't see it or chose to ignore it. "I just don't want two of the people that I care about ripping each other's throats out as soon as I get them both back again."

"All right," relented the Slayer after a pause. "But you'll talk to her, right? Make her understand that crap ain't gonna fly. If she wants to do the 'Ten Steps to a More Fulfilling Slay' seminar, she can do it on her own time."

"Absolutely," Willow assured, smiling comfortingly. "Now get rid of the rest of that nastiness you're givin' off and come in here."

Smirking, her rage finally dissipated, Kennedy stepped into the circle and adopted a similar position across from Willow. She took a deep, calming breath and focused on the witch, shifting a little uncomfortably in the unfamiliar environment. "So. What are we doing again?"

Willow's eyes shone and she leaned over excitedly toward Kennedy, clearly overjoyed with the idea of sharing this with her lover. "Well you remember when I cast the Slayer spell, right? You were my anchor, my connection to this world, so I couldn't get all swept up and lost in the magics."

"Like I could forget anything about that night," Kennedy said with a wistful smile.

"Right. Slayer birth and all that. So, we were able to pull that off, and it obviously worked because, hello, hundreds of Slayers all over the place. I know that was a one-time deal, and I was pretty much too terrified to really appreciate it, but through the abject terror, I remember thinking it was nice. To- to, you know, have an anchor. Again. I-I haven't had one since ..." Willow trailed off.

"Tara." The name hung there in the air like a tangible thing, causing the silence in the room that followed to become heavy and oppressive. The tension persisted just for a moment before Kennedy grinned and her typical self-confidence quickly masked anything else she might be feeling. "Hey, Will, it's cool. I mean, I know you two used to work the whole magic mojo. It was kinda your thing."

Willow had looked stricken, her previous enthusiasm having given way to mirror the discomfort that now permeated the room, but her face began to brighten at Kennedy's words and she visibly relaxed.

Reaching out through the space that separated them, Kennedy grabbed Willow's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm honored that you'd ask me to be part of something you two had. Really."

The smile she received in turn was beaming and full of affection. Willow gripped Kennedy's hand tightly for a moment in gratitude before pulling away. The space between them remained, but it was now open and comfortable.

"Well we did the thing with the scythe, which was great, but it was really more of a, you know, 'in the moment' thing. We made it work because we had to. The real test is to see if we can achieve that kind of connection in normal, every day, apocalypse-free conditions."

Kennedy shrugged nonchalantly, scooping a lock of hair from her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. "Should be pretty easy. Not sitting directly on top of a Hellmouth ready to spit a couple thousand übervamps in my face is pretty relaxing." She paused to consider this. "More boring, but relaxing."

"You'd think it'd be easier, but the idea of being ripped into several dozen pieces? Tends to push people above and beyond," replied Willow with a smirk. "Go figure."

The Slayer shifted her position on the floor, steeling herself as though she were preparing for battle. "All right, let's do this thing. What's the plan?"

Willow eyed Kennedy's posture critically. "Well you know that relaxing thing you were just talking about? Try that first." At the blank expression, Willow motioned toward Kennedy's tense demeanor. "You can't beat magic in the head until it listens to you, Kenn, you've got to ... to attune to it. Coax it. Entice it."

"Are you saying I'm not enticing enough?" Kennedy asked in a flirtatious voice.

The suggestive grin that appeared on Willow's face was instinctive, but she quickly replaced it with one that was sobering and entirely serious. "Kennedy..." she chastised with a definite warning tone.

Kennedy inhaled deeply, shook out her hands and rolled her head around in a full circle. "Okay. All relaxed now. I'm good."

"Good," echoed Willow, closing her eyes. Kennedy did the same. "We'll start off slow and simple. I'll cast my essence out, just a little ways, and we'll establish a connection. All you have to do is reach out to me. W-With your mind, not literally, cuz this is all about the not-physical. Just remember to breathe, stay focused, and come to me."

With another deep breath, Kennedy shrugged her shoulders a couple of times to work out some of the kinks, intent on relaxing. Her face was passive and tranquil for a minute or so until her forehead crinkled slightly. She breathed again, a small amount of irritation managing to make itself known, and fidgeted into a more comfortable position. A look of intense concentration appeared on her face, and her eyes twitched restlessly underneath their lids. Another few minutes of this passed, until Kennedy's eyes shot open and she let out a cry of frustration.

Across from her, Willow remained the picture of calm serenity for a moment, before her own eyes opened, forehead furrowed in concern. "What's wrong?" she asked, watching as Kennedy ran an agitated hand through her hair.

"Stupid magic's not working!"

Caught up in her own emotions, Kennedy missed the flash of hurt and anger that briefly danced across Willow's face, and it was soon replaced with one that was much softer. "So, nothing then?" queried Willow in a small yet still hopeful voice.

Kennedy got to her feet and stepped out of the casting circle. "Nada," she replied bitterly.

"Oh." The disappointment was evident, and Kennedy turned toward a crestfallen Willow.

"I'm really sorry, Will."

Willow shook her head. "No, no, i-i-it's not your fault. I mean, it was silly of me to, to think that we'd be able to connect, like that, the first time. Don't feel bad. It means a lot that you tried."

Kennedy quickly moved over to her girlfriend, squatting down behind her and resting her chin on top of Willow's head. Her arms draped casually over Willow's shoulders. "We'll try it again," she stated with conviction. "You know me, I don't take just sitting around too well. Besides, I'm way too stubborn to let this fairy tale crap win." She hugged Willow briefly but firmly, her position preventing her from seeing the look of sadness and loss on Willow's face. "We'll try it again."

"Yeah," replied Willow, trying but failing to recapture her earlier enthusiasm.

Judith leaned against the front steps of Slayer Central, her elbows helping to support her back from digging into the cement, and tilted her head upwards to enjoy the sun. Seated next to her, Sonja was sitting demurely with her legs crossed and her hands folded neatly in her lap, but she still basked in the warmth. Gazing around in wonder, no detail seemed to miss the blonde's keen eye.

"I'm really impressed by how much space there is," she remarked. "The complex itself is quite large, with the administrative offices and training rooms, plus the dormitories. But all that additional land in the back ..." Glancing toward the wide expanse of field to her right, Sonja was contemplative. "Do you know what they plan to do with it?"

Her eyes still closed against the bright sun, Judith shook her head. "Nope, not a clue. I was thinking maybe we could get our own major league football team to play back there for our amusement, but seriously? I've asked, and nobody seems to know. I don't think Giles and the Council know yet either. They're probably holding on to it for expansion or something."

Sonja leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees and resting her chin in her hands, still focused on the distant foliage. "I'd love to go exploring some time. All those trees back there, I'm sure there are some beautiful spots."

"I don't doubt," Judith agreed amicably.

Noticing a figure moving at a lively pace toward the object of her attention, Sonja lifted her head and peered intently. "Who's that?" she asked, unable to recognize the person.

Judith cracked open an eye and cocked her head, squinting to make out the details. "Oh, that's Faith," she answered after a second. "She's like the number one Slayer-in-charge around here." Frowning, she added, "Or, was. Don't know how Buffy's return will change that."

"Huh. She seems sort of ... angry?"

"That's definitely Faith, then," chuckled Judith, her eyes closing again as she soaked up the rays.

Regarding Judith with interest for a moment, Sonja returned to watching the slowly disappearing shadow of the Senior Slayer. "Sort of a bad attitude, huh?" she probed.

"Well ... I'd say she's an original." Judith grinned. "You won't find anybody else quite like Faith."

I had no chance to interact with the rogue Slayer today, although I did spot her skulking alone from the facility. As I watched her move, I found myself wondering how she was taking this new life of hers, and if she felt that it was truly her calling. Faith has a unique understanding of what it's like to be on both sides of the fight, and while she has clearly cast her lot with this Council, I wonder if it's a permanent decision or a passing fad? I believe she tries, perhaps harder than anyone, to fit into this new life, yet ironically, she never allows herself to fully integrate with those around her. Does she honestly want to be with them? Or does she simply remain because she feels that she should?

As Faith entered the clearing, she immediately spied Xander, resting against the large tree that dominated the area. He was serene, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he simply sat staring at the tiny sapling growing several feet away. Taking all this in, Faith turned to leave without a word, but Xander glanced up her briefly.

"Faith," he stated, his eyes soon returning to the sapling.

Pausing, Faith seemed to consider leaving anyway, but made no move to do so. "Hey. Sorry," she clipped. "Didn't know anyone was here. I'll come back later."

Again, the Slayer turned to leave, but Xander's voice brought her to a halt once more. "No." Taking a deep breath, he refocused his thoughts and appeared to return to himself. With a smile, he gave Faith his full attention. "No, please. Stay."

Scooting over, the carpenter made room for Faith next to him against the tree. She hesitated for a second before accepting his offer, sitting with a grace she usually reserved for battles. They both stared straight ahead, neither speaking for a time.

"I like to come out here," Xander began, talking softly, loud noises seeming to violate the peaceful area. "I think Will was on to something. Since she brought me here, it's been better. Not 100%, 'top o' the world, ma' better," grinning, he shrugged, "but it's gettin' there. I'm not sure if Anya's really here with me, but sometimes it feels like she's standing right over there," a wave of his hand indicated the sapling, "glaring at me for being such an idiot and gettin' all depressed about her."

Mulling this over, for a moment Xander fell silent. "Though between you an' me, I think she's mad I don't have a job. Or maybe it's that I didn't buy her an expensive tombstone, or that she has to share a memorial with a bunch of other ghosts. Or it could just be that she doesn't like my shirt. Anya had a whole bunch of glares for a variety of occasions, it's hard to narrow it down sometimes."

With a sideways glance at Faith, Xander paused, his silence inviting her to speak. She didn't take him up on his unspoken offer, choosing instead to simply stare straight ahead. The Slayer was nearly motionless, and save for the occasional blink and continual rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, she might have been a statue. Frowning at this, Xander studied Faith, and then decided to fill the silence himself.

"I play the 'what if?' game a lot. Like, 'What if I'd gone with Anya instead of Dawn?', or 'What if hadn't waited until my wedding day to grow a backbone?' Funnily enough, they all seem to end with me gettin' glared at. Although there is this one that ends with us riding elephants through the jungles of Bangladesh." Turning slightly toward Faith, Xander stuck out a finger to punctuate his comment. "Interestingly enough, that's not the strangest part. It starts gettin' really weird when I bring home some kiwi fruit, then—"

"My mom's dead."

The words were delivered with no emotion. Faith might have said, "Clouds are neat" or "I like cheese" with the same disinterested tone, but they certainly wouldn't have had the same effect on Xander. He froze, mid-sentence, his finger pointing at the Slayer and his jaw dangling open. With an audible snap, his mouth closed and he slowly lowered his hand. "Geez, Faith, that's ... I'm sorry."

Faith absorbed this and then shrugged. "I'm not."

Sighing, the Slayer ran a hand through her hair, heavily as though it weighed forty pounds. Xander waited patiently, watching Faith closely but saying nothing. She elaborated eventually, her voice tired and flat. "Decided a little while back that I'd send her a letter, tell her where I was. Dunno why exactly," she admitted with a shrug. "She never much cared where I was when I was livin' with her, she cared even less when I left. But I figured hey, got the whole new life thing goin' here, can't hurt to try, right?"

Xander smiled and nodded, but Faith didn't pay the affirmations any attention. Remaining eerily still, her eyes fixated on the sapling as though it held the answer to some great mystery that could only be uncovered if she stared long enough, she continued in the same near monotone. "Got it back today, marked that she don't live there. So I call my Aunt, thinkin' maybe mom finally got her crap together, threw out the bottle and got on the wagon west to the land'a corn an' clean livin'. Nope. Turns out a month ago, she drunk herself in the ground instead."

He didn't know what to say. Several circuits of opening and closing his mouth passed with words almost coming out, only to be intercepted by Xander shaking his head. Once, he partially raised his arm as though to hug the women next to him, but thought better of it. The Slayer took all of this with the same apathy she had exhibited since sitting down.

"All I can think to say is 'Sorry'," the carpenter finally managed, "and I know damn well that doesn't make it a bit better."

"I meant what I said, I'm not sorry," Faith insisted, sounding almost bored. Off of Xander's confused expression, she attempted to explain. "I'm not ... anything. I keep thinkin' it's comin'. Any second now, it's gonna hit me like a sucker punch an' I'll just curl up like I'm three years old again an' bawl my eyes out." She paused, waiting expectantly, as though speaking the words would somehow trigger a reaction. Nothing happened. She sighed. "But it's not. I just don't care that she's gone."

Tearing her eyes away from the sapling for the first time since taking a seat, Faith reached out and tugged on a nearby blade of grass. She freed it from the earth easily, and slowly shredded it into strips as she spoke.

"For years it was pretty much just me an' my mom ... and her plaything of the week," she added with a touch of bitterness. "But the clearest memories I have of her are slappin' me for cryin' when my dad left, comin' home and findin' her passed out on the couch, and her tellin' me I couldn't have a puppy. It's the puppy one that still stings."

A mirthless laugh escaped and Faith tossed the remnants of the blade to the ground, pulling out another one and repeating the same actions. "I keep thinkin' about her, tryin' t' find somethin' to hold on to. An' I realized, all I really got're crappy memories." Flicking her fingers, the now naked stem went flying through the air. "Hell, I made enough crappy memories all on my own, don't need her help for that. But then ... What's that say about me? I seen enough touchy-feely Lifetime movies in the joint to know I'm supposed to have some big revelation, some breakthrough where I'm supposed to cry an' forgive an' move on. Only I ain't got the tears." For the first time, Faith turned to Xander, frowning in confusion. "Shouldn't I have tears?"

He smiled kindly as he answered, "Maybe you skipped steps one and two and went straight to moving on."

"I dunno. Ain't never been an overachiever before, doubt I'm startin' now." The Slayer had actually appeared amused for moment, but it was brief and she soon looked sad and just a little afraid. "You don't think I'm ..." Sighing, Faith shook her head and tried again. "What if I go back to ..." Again the words died in her throat, and she gritted her teeth in frustration.

But Xander somehow knew what she was trying to say, and he let that understanding fill his voice. "If you want to ask the question, I think you already know the answer." Faith deliberated on this, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and Xander seized the opportunity to compose his thoughts.

"I can't speak for your situation exactly, but there is one thing I've come to realize about parents: A DNA contribution means squat. Without some connection, all you got are a couple'a old people who look sorta like you. An' I'm not gonna waste my energy on some thoughtless, emotionally crippled – albeit undoubtedly handsome – individuals."

That warranted a smirk and Faith eyed Xander critically. "'Undoubtedly handsome'? In your dreams, pal."

"Well I do have weird dreams," he admitted. "I'm tellin' you, kiwi fruit? Never. The same. Again."

The smirk became a smile, and this one actually seemed genuine. Bumping Xander's shoulder with her own, Faith declared, "Y'know what Harris? You're alright."

Looking every bit like a sheepish little boy, Xander grinned and shrugged. "It's a well-kept secret. Don't let it get out, or everyone'll want me." He considered this very carefully. "Oh god, please tell everyone."

Faith chuckled as a silence fell between them, but just for a few seconds. She glanced over to the carpenter. "Elephants in Bangladesh? Where the hell's Bangladesh?"

"I have no idea," he admitted. "I'm thinkin' maybe near Nepal."

A little flushed from the warm sun outside, Judith and Sonja walked through the heavy, over-sized doors that opened into the foyer of Slayer Central, laughing at something that had obviously amused them greatly. Not in any particular rush, they crossed the room and went to open the door leading to the left-hand section of the facility. Just as Judith reached for the knob, however, the door flew open. Startled, the two girls jumped back and away from the entrance, just as Willow stormed through, her face a mask of fury, Buffy right on her heels.

"Will, would you just calm down and listen to me?" Buffy implored, her own irritation evident.

"I think I heardja pretty good the first time," retorted Willow, coming to a stop in the center of the room and spinning on her heel to glare. "I'm not a Slayer so I can't know what it's like. Knock knock, deja vu calling! Where've I heard that before?"

"I didn't mean it like—" spat Buffy before catching her tone. She took a quick breath, continuing in voice approximately 0.2 degrees less angry. "I just meant that ... when you have all this power—"

Willow's eyes widened in complete disbelief. "Oh, and hey, I wouldn't know anything about that either!" she exclaimed with utmost indignity. "I-It's not all about you all the time, Buffy. We've done a lot of good here, a-and worked really really hard to get this place running. And you just ... just come in here, all 'Hey, lookit me, Alpha Slayer on deck!', an-and you expect us to just jump to attention and salute or something, and it's not like that. We've got a ... a system. A training system. For training ... stuff." She frowned at herself. "And yeah, okay, maybe I don't know what that happens to be off-hand. But Kennedy does. She knows because she helped develop it." Willow crossed her arms and glared at Buffy accusingly. "You know, when you were busy being not here?"

Flinching involuntarily, Buffy hissed through gritted teeth, "That is not fair."

"Fair? We were here teachin' a bunch of girls how to hug their gran'ma without snappin' a few ribs while you were off all 'Hills are Alive'. Gosh, and how is that they can break bones without even trying now?" The redhead looked off, pretending to be thinking hard, then snapped her fingers as the answer came to her. "Oh yeah, because you wanted 'em called!"

Judith and Sonja had been standing motionless by the door, gaping at the exchange. Casting a quick, nervous glance at each other, they beat a simultaneous, hasty retreat.

A clash between Summers and Rosenberg was, I suppose, inevitable. Summers seems unsure of, even reluctant to fulfill her role as leader and Rosenberg's own perpetual guilt and insecurities only feed off of Summers' uncertainty. The pet Slayer's bruised ego may have been the catalyst, but the truth of the matter is, two of the world's most powerful forces have no idea how to relate to each other. There's simply too much hurt and too much history between them at this point, and rather than use it to heal, they'd rather skirt issues and chip away at each other piece by piece.

The eyes of the Slayer were cold and harsh as she regarded her friend, who was just as angry but more wounded than detached. "I did what I had to," Buffy justified. "I did what I always do – I took on the bad guy and I won."

"We won," Willow quickly corrected.

"Yes, we won," she frustratedly agreed. "I'm just saying—" Taking a mental step back, Buffy sighed. When she again locked eyes with Willow, the coldness had evaporated. "There's more to slaying than just blocking a punch to the face," she explained calmly. "All we're doing is teaching them to fight, and all that's doing is making them think they're invulnerable. They've got to know there's more to life than fighting, Will, or that's all we can ever expect from them."

Willow truly wanted to hold on to her anger, but it simply wasn't possible and it washed away, leaving only the hurt. "Yeah, okay, I understand that," the witch conceded softly. "But you- you can't just walk in here like you own the place and start ... takin' over. Things aren't like they were before, Buffy. We're not just your generals, and they're not your troops."

"Generals?" repeated Buffy, almost whispering. "Is that what you think you are?"

Willow tilted her head to one side. "Aren't we?"

"No!" the Slayer immediately denied. "You're ... god, I thought you were my friends!"

"When's the last time you treated us like friends, Buffy?" Willow asked wearily. "Me, Xander, Giles ... For the past few years, you've treated us like a ... a habit you weren't in the mood to break."

Defensive was Buffy's first, instinctive reaction, and she spoke very slowly, clearly pronouncing each word. "Well, I'm sorry that I wasn't up for a video club after you pulled me—" Waving her hand, Buffy severed that line of conversation, making a very obvious choice to not go down that path. She glanced at Willow, taking note of the lingering sorrow and regret. "It's been a rough couple of years," she summed up after a deep breath.

"For all of us, Buffy," Willow gently reminded, "not just you."

The Slayer hung her head. "I know that."

Regarding her friend for several moments, Willow wasn't quite ready to let it all go. "This was our chance to start over, to rebuild. And what'd you do?" She shook her head disapprovingly. "You ran away. Again."

"I had to—"

"I know y'think you had to," interrupted the redhead. "Y'told me. But it doesn't change the fact that'cha left, Buffy. You chose to go off and find yourself, and that self you were lookin' for ..." Willow crossed her arms again, hugging herself. "It obviously wasn't with us."

"But I came back," offered Buffy.

"Why was that, exactly?"

Buffy opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Her face fell, and she glanced away, focusing on something across the room. "I just want things back how they were," she finally replied, a touch of need lacing her voice.

Willow nodded, her bottom lip quivering slightly. "Well that's what I want too."

The two women stood across from either other, both looking in opposite directions and neither saying a word. Buffy balled her hands into loose fists at her side, and Willow rubbed her arms for comfort.

"I'd also like very much to know how to do that."

Nodding again, Willow agreed, "Yeah, that'd be nifty."

Another long minute passed in silence. Glancing up, the Slayer raised an eyebrow at her friend. "And can I have a pony?"

The redhead met Buffy's eyes, the corner of her mouth twitched in a smile. "Ponies are evil," she stated matter-of-factly. "Maybe a hamster."

Buffy grinned slightly. "Okay."

The moment passed into renewed silence. This time, Willow spoke first. "So," she began, straightening up as Buffy did the same. "What now?"

They regarded each other, searching, but found no answer.