Faith hears Jordan the Vampire Slayer’s words, but they don’t land. Her brain doesn’t process them. Just white noise. Something about Buffy not being able to hack it as a normal person.

By the time Jordan finishes, Faith doesn’t care. She turns to Buffy and tells her she’s got this. She’ll hit Jordan just to shut her up.

Jordan chuckles at Faith’s attitude. She’s heard plenty about Faith and her “sass.”

“Question though,” she says. “How’s sass gonna help against an army of chicks just as strong as you?”

That part, Faith hears. Her eyes glint with the chaos she used to revel in. Willow recognises the look — determined, raw, powerful.

“I fight dirty,” Faith warns.

She launches forward. She throws a smoke bomb, and the Slayers react, assuming Faith can’t fight what she can’t see — but the Boston Slayer is already through the haze, hands around Jordan’s collar before the taller woman can blink. She drops her with a blow to the throat, then turns, taking on five more Slayers, Scythe in hand, steadily improving her odds.

She looks at Buffy and Willow through the jumble of limbs and the sound of bruising. With an anger they haven’t seen in a while, she orders them to go.

Buffy and Willow sprint for the power‑drainer room, only to be blocked by two more Slayers. This time, taking a page from Faith, Buffy charges. They hit her hard, punching until her nose bleeds, but she shouts for Willow to keep going. As Buffy fights back, one Slayer warns her they’re authorised to use lethal force.

Faith slams another Slayer down, swings the Scythe, and wipes someone else’s blood off her face.

“Is that all you princesses got?” she snarls.

Buffy keeps fighting, but the two Slayers overwhelm her.

Meanwhile, Willow bursts into the draining room and faces the machine. She locks the door, buying herself seconds. She races to the control panels — the ones she saw the technician use.

A fist‑shaped dent begins forming in the door as she works. She finally clicks the last key and reaches for the device just as a Slayer’s hand punches through the metal with a thud.

In the corridor, Buffy and Faith — despite their valiant efforts — are losing ground.

“You fought hard,” Jordan tells Faith, punching her in the jaw. “I respect that. Still gonna make this hurt.” She readies another strike.

Then a quiet word echoes around them.

“Enough.”

A Slayer goes hurtling past Jordan’s head, past Buffy, crashing to the floor.

Willow stands behind them, emerging from the draining room, aglow with crackling blue lightning. Power dances across her skin.

“Much better,” she smiles at Buffy. She reaches out, palm to Buffy’s head. “I think this belongs to you.”

A bright burning light pulses from Willow’s hand.

“Hell, yeah it does,” Buffy grins as her pulse quickens and her aches fade.

She grabs Jordan by the collar and yanks her away from Faith.

“How about we make this a fair fight?”

Jordan sneers. “Good. I want it to count when I beat you down.”

Buffy smiles. “So much better than you have tried. Guess who’s still standing?”

Jordan swings. Buffy braces — and Willow casts a spell that encases the Slayers in a glow and sends them hurtling through a massive hole in the building’s side, blown open by Willow’s earlier discharge. She tells Buffy to move, but Buffy shakes her head.

“I’m gonna finish this.”

Jordan lunges from behind, but misses. “Over my dead—”

Buffy catches her fist mid‑strike.

“Wrong,” she says, staring into her eyes. “Over your thoroughly beaten body.”

She lifts Jordan and body‑slams her into the ground. Jordan lies breathless and unconscious.

Faith grins. The blood on her face has dried — mostly not hers. She hands Buffy the Scythe.

“Kept this warm for ya.”

“Thanks.” Buffy hesitates. “Is it bad that I feel whole again? That I didn’t feel right as just Buffy Summers, normal person?”

“Nah,” Faith says. “Buffy Summers isn’t a normal person. Nothing wrong with owning it. And you both kicked a solid amount of butt without your powers, which doesn’t suck.”

Willow is already perched at a desk, typing at speed.

“I think I just got what we need to keep fighting. Ladies, for the first time, we know where to go and who to hit.”

“We gotta get out alive first, Red,” Faith warns. “Soldiers’ll be coming… guns, grenades, the works. We can’t fight ’em all.”

Willow smiles at the screen, the light reflecting in her eyes.

“Not alone.”

Soon after, the trio slip outside, a cloaking spell hiding them from the guards. It won’t last long, Willow says, but long enough to reach their destination: a building on the far side of camp.

Armed guards stand watch. Willow nods toward it.

“That’s the building with the generator powering the force field.”

Faith asks if she’s got a Jedi mind trick.

Willow smirks.

“Witch magic trick.”

A globe of solid blue light forms between her hands. She sculpts it like clay.

“It’s called the Hammer of Govannon. And at this strength, it’s pretty much gonna tap me out. So get ready to be the centre of attention.” Her eyes darken; Faith swears she sees a streak of black in her hair.

With a Latin word, Willow releases the sphere. It slams into the building — and the explosion is enormous. The blast tears through the structure, scattering guards and silencing the generator’s hum.

The force field around the Safe Zone flickers, beeps, and collapses.

Willow falls — Buffy catches her. Faith moves to help, but armed guards level rifles at them and order them to freeze. Buffy and Faith kneel, hands raised. The head guard radios command, but the noise behind him drowns it out.

He turns, annoyed — then horrified.

The front gate of the Safe Zone has been breached. Residents pour through the gap into open territory. Vampires, werewolves, lizard‑folk — a menagerie of supernatural beings stampeding for freedom.

The guard stares, stunned, then swings his gun toward Buffy.

“You did this!” he shouts, as more creatures rush past.

Before he can fire, he drops, unconscious — felled by a bloody rock.

Spike stands behind him, grinning.

“All right, ladies?”

“I am now,” Buffy says — and kisses him.

Faith glances at Willow. “Still?”

Willow nods. “We’re all pleasantly surprised.”

Around them, the remaining residents tear the camp apart, determined it will never be used again. Spike sighs.

“Much as I’d like to keep fatalities down on both sides, Slayer, we need to scarper. Reinforcements’ll be en route.”

Faith agrees. “Blondie’s right. Let’s see if I remember how to hotwire a car. ’Cause things are most def gonna get wicked bad, wicked fast — and we wanna be far away when they do.”

A few hours later, in a motel off a road in Santa Fe, New Mexico, Buffy, Faith, Willow, and Spike step into a room where Dawn and Xander have been waiting.

Xander has checked in under the names Mr and Mrs Irving P. Freeley. Buffy snaps at him — they’re on the run. He shrugs.

“I wanted it to seem like we’re having an affair. Like everyone else here.”

Dawn cuts in. “Doesn’t matter. You need to see this.” She points to the television.

On‑screen, Press Secretary Joanna Wise addresses the nation.

“At the time of the escape, the Safe Zone’s population had been reduced to internees who were completely supernatural. Including thousands of vampires. Within little more than an hour, while troops were still struggling to stabilise the Safe Zone itself, our greatest fears were realised.”

Buffy whispers in horror. Rows of body bags fill the street, lined up like a grotesque parade.

Wise continues. “The small town of Dolan Springs, Arizona, was attacked by escapees. The entire population of some two thousand souls was brutally murdered, as well as two dozen soldiers and Slayers dispatched to protect it.”

Faith turns to Spike. “Is this legit, or some kinda false flag?”

Spike sighs. “Blood was being rationed. We were all starving… I wish I could say this surprises me.”

The secretary’s voice cuts back in.

“Given the level of danger, the President has authorised lethal force against vampires at the discretion of law enforcement.”

Willow gasps. “This is our fault.”

Buffy nods — but points at the screen.

“Yeah. But also hers.”

The image freezes. Standing over a bloodied body is Vicki the Vampire.

“Gear up,” Buffy says, anger burning in her eyes. “Before anything else, we’ve got business to handle.”

Two days later, in Austin, Texas, beneath Congress Bridge, a hooded Spike walks in shadow. The bridge is home to the world’s largest urban bat colony.

Under the arch, he whistles.

“Oi, Vicki. I know you’re there. Our grapevine ain’t famous for keepin’ secrets. And those of us who can’t turn into bats are a bit cross with those who can. You lot got us into this fix. Least you can do is help us get out of the country.”

Vicki unfurls from her roost and drops lightly to the ground.

“Get the hell out of here. Or I’ll solve your problem permanently.”

Spike stares her down. “What were you bloody thinking, wiping out an entire town?”

Vicki growls. “Last time. Get. The. Hell. Out.”

A familiar voice interrupts from above as Buffy, Faith, and Willow descend from the public side of the bridge.

“Sorry, Vicki. We can’t do that.”

Vicki rolls her eyes. Not surprised. She calls her army down — bats unfurling, shifting into human form as they land.

The fight erupts instantly.

“How stupid are you?” Vicki snaps as she dodges Buffy’s first strike. “We attract cops. You don’t think they’ll kill you too?”

“Probably,” Buffy says, swinging again. “Doesn’t matter. You need to answer for Dolan Springs.”

Vicki freezes, genuinely shocked. “That wasn’t us! We were set up! The video all over TV? Starring me? Let me ask you something. You notice any blood on my fangs?”

Buffy pauses.

“No. I didn’t.”

She signals a time‑out. “If you didn’t kill those people, we’re not enemies. But we’re gonna need a pretty damn convincing story.”

“Why should we trust you warms at all?” Vicki spits.

“One good reason,” Buffy says. “The machine they had people working on in the camp? It drains magic.”

The serious look on her face gets Vicki’s attention.

“Based on the data Willow stole, they’re close to making a big one. Several. Ones that don’t have to touch you to drain your magic — or even get close. They’re planning to put them on satellites, launch them into orbit… and then there’s nowhere on Earth you can hide. And without magic, the undead are just plain dead.”

The vampires stare, stunned. One scoffs that the US government wouldn’t do that. Vicki snaps at him.

“Think, moron. They let the most human inmates out after draining their magic. What she’s saying is just a matter of scale.”

She looks at Buffy, then orders her vamps to stand down.

Willow steps forward. “We’ve shown you our cards. Now it’s your turn.”

“They set us up,” Vicki says. “After the breakout, they herded us toward that hick town. Everyone was dead when we got there. And the whole place reeked of concentrated magic.” She sniffs the air near Willow. “Smelled kinda like you.”

Faith isn’t buying it. “You’re saying the United States government killed two thousand people just to have an excuse to dust vampires?”

Vicki is firm. “Smallpox in blankets. Not a big leap.”

Buffy stops them before it escalates.

“Maybe it’s the government. Maybe it’s a faction — like those generals who tried to take us out before. Point is, it’s not just an excuse to dust vampires. It’s an excuse to drain every supernatural being on the planet and not sweat the consequences.”

One vamp blames Buffy for the breakout. Vicki shuts him up. She’d rather be outside fighting than in a cage. She asks for the plan.

Buffy relaxes slightly and pulls Vicki aside.

“If you can trust me, the best thing you can do is stay in the country. Travel at night — bats, mist, bees, whatever. Show yourselves to security cameras at least once a day. Lead them east.”

Vicki folds her arms. “And what are you gonna do? Besides head west?”

“We’re going to the source. Find out who’s behind this, how they plan to do it, and shut it down. Best that’s all you know.”

Vicki grumbles, then gives something like a smile.

“Fine. Now disappear. Tourists start showing up soon.”

A few minutes later, back on the public side of the bridge, the Scoobies look out over the water. Spike asks where they’re heading.

Buffy says she wasn’t sure — until Willow got into the camp’s computer. She downloaded the shipping orders for the machine parts.

“Everything the camp makes goes to a place called the Pandora Project. In San Francisco.”

They watch as Vicki’s army transforms into a squadron of bats and disappears into the dusk.

Willow finishes the thought.

“Back where it all started is where it’s going to end.”