Note(s): I highly recommend that you read the three "Notes" at the beginning of the "Prologue." Also, while you’re there, why don’t you read the "Prologue," too?

Joyce Summers watched noiselessly as her daughter stared out the kitchen window, seemingly enthralled by the completely unspectacular view.

< Why is she so sad? > Joyce asked herself silently, wondering about her daughter’s behavior in the past few weeks. < I don’t care what everyone says: no sweet, 17-year-old girl should be that depressed! > Buffy’s mom gave a mental sigh. < But, at least, she seems to be getting better. She’s almost back up to normal -- if there is a normal for Buffy -- but there are times when I just want to hold her and tell her to let out the hurt, the pain, and the anger that I can see in her. >

Buffy was thinking of Angel. She had mostly recovered from the shock of his sudden change of sides, and the pain of loss and the hurt of betrayal were slowly dulling to within manageable levels.

But she wanted Angel back.

Slowly, the nagging pain of a leg losing proper circulation from being held in one place to long brought Buffy’s mind back from the now-even-more-complicated subject of the vampire she loved. Buffy quickly realized that she had been sitting there daydreaming for far to long, that her mother was staring at her, and that she was very late for a meeting with Giles that she’d promised she’d attend.

When the last of those three realizations hit her, Buffy gasped, darted out of the kitchen, (biting back curses as pain shot through her sleeping leg) muttered a brief, "goin’ to Willow’s -- bye," to her mother, grabbed up her jacket, and dashed out the door towards the graveyard.

Joyce blinked, mouth agape, at her daughter’s sudden flurry of action. Then she shook her head in amazement.

"She really is the strangest girl."

"You’re late," Giles chided the Slayer softly.

Buffy nodded as she ran the last few strides towards her Watcher, standing silently in a secluded area of the park.

"I know. Sorry, I just got...distracted, and lost track of time."

Giles nodded, easily accepting her answer: there were so many things to be distracted by as of late.

"Well, let’s get to work, shall we?"

For the next few hours, Buffy and Giles endured a slightly unusual training session: unusual because they were in a very rarely used section of the park, and not in Giles’ office or the adjoining library.

Giles called the session to the halt when the sun started to set. He indicated to Buffy that the 'legions of the undead' would soon be upon them, looking for easy prey, and that they should prepare for their coming.

Buffy smiled grimly and gathered (mostly from the supply Giles had brought) the various objects she would need: stakes, a vile or two of holy water, and the large, silver cross necklace that Angel had given her when they met.

And then, Buffy proceeded to have one of the most boring hunts of her life.

"*Giles*," Buffy whined, "this is *too* weird. Last night I hunted for 4 hours without a single peep from any vamp in Sunnydale! And, the entire time I was ‘on duty’ I kept getting these bizarre-o feelings that something wasn’t right...I think there's definitely something weird going on."

"I’m afraid I may have to agree with you; the local undead population seems to be rather...inactive, of late. It’s quite possible that something unusual is going on. But why didn’t you tell me about these odd feelings last night? I *was* hunting with you, for the first two hours..." Giles asked.

"Sorry, Giles. I didn’t really think much of the weird vibes while I was hunting: I get that kinda stuff a lot. But the feelings kept coming this morning...."

"Ah," Giles responded.

Alexander Harris, who -- along with Willow Rosenberg and Cordelia Chase -- had been sitting in the library and hearing the short conversation between Watcher and Slayer, seemed to be waiting for something: he had an expectant look plastered on his face.

"Well? Aren’t you gonna say it?" Xander asked after a moment.

"Say what?" Giles questioned, confused.

"You know -- what you always say in situations like this: ‘I must consult my books.’ Aren’t you gonna say it?"

Giles glared briefly at the boy, then said, in his usual manner, "I must consult my books."

Xander grinned, appeased.

"And you, Mr. Harris, must go to class: I was told Principal Snyder has decided that anyone who is consistently tardy for their classes has to start doing ‘volunteer work’ for him..." Giles instructed.

Xander’s goofy grin faded, and, hastily grabbing up his books and backpack, he darted out of the library and towards his next class, followed after a moment by a set of three amused-at Xander’s-antics teenage girls.  

Go here for part two.

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