Alright, I'm trying to go on. Thank you to you lovely--if few--people who sent me feedback and told me to keep up this storyline. Also, please note that there was absolutely *no* BETA-reading done on this part of the story, so it's probably in need of serious work. Apologies, but if you spot anything major, e-mail me, and I'll fix it. Thanks.

"Uh, Buff, you're sure about this, right?" Xander questioned, glancing behind him for the hundredth time.

It was evening the next day. Buffy had informed Giles about her portentous dream, and he had suggested that she investigate it. Willow had immediately volunteered to come with her, and Xander a moment later, though obviously reluctant.

Buffy sighed, but declined to respond, having answered his question several times before. She was starting to wonder if bringing the gang had been a good idea; the dream hadn't said anything about them tagging along, after all...

"Xander, be quiet!" Willow growled, uncharacteristically snappy.

He was temporarily silenced, but he continued on after a moment, slightly defensive. "I just don't see why we're being dragged around town just because Buffy had a dream--no offense, Buff..."

The murmur of voices from up ahead caught Buffy's attention, and she held a hand up to halt her companions.

"We're getting close, I think, but I hear people over there. Everybody stay close and let me do the talking--or the Slaying, if it's necessary," she instructed in an almost-hiss.

The teenagers accompanying her both nodded, and Willow's hand instinctively inched toward the cross and holy water in her pocket. Xander, apparently, decided it would be prudent to stop his yammering, for the time being.

As they neared their mysterious target, flashing lights, emanating from around the nearest corner, started to become visible. Buffy slid under the overhang of the building on her right, and slowly edged towards the street corner. Xander and Willow silently followed, a pace or two behind. When she reached the edge of the building, Buffy took a deep breath and peeked around the corner--

And was greeted with an all-too-normal sight, in Sunnydale: the Sunnydale Police Department investigating a murder.

Buffy wanted to laugh--it was rare that the Sunnydale PD actually correctly solved any of their numerous unusual homicides, and she had no doubt tonight would be no exception. The Police were, to her knowledge, completely clueless as to the real situation in their town. She almost pitied them.

That thought was lost when she noticed that the building they were huddling around was the warehouse from her dream--only in far worse shape. The large double-doors had been blown off their hinges, as attested by the angry scorch marks around the now-empty doorway. Rubble spilling out the remnants of the door hinted at further structural destruction inside, and the familiar red stains mixed with the rubble hinted at a more gruesome kind of destruction. The whole area had been sectioned off in yellow tape, and neat rows of black body bags had been lined up near the center of the street. Three Police vehicles and an open-backed ambulance were parked at odd angles inside the tape line, and grim-faced, uniformed officers and a stray paramedic hovered around the scene, speaking to each other and into the tinny radio in one of the police cars. A coroner circled the body bags with practiced ease, barking observations and notes to an anxious aide who was hastily scribbling down the information on an official-looking notepad.

A small, morbidly interested crowd had gathered around, their questioning voices adding to the general murmur in the area. Already the media had been informed, (*how do they always get there so fast?* Buffy thought) and a small camera crew was setting up on the far side of the tape.

In a sudden flash of activity, two medics, whom had obviously been searching for survivors inside the warehouse, came rushing out with a prone figure on a stretcher held between them, medical-babble issuing from their lips at high speed.

Buffy vaguely noted the newsperson on the other side of the carnage that was making wild gestures at the medics, indicating to the camera-operator that they really did want to be taping now, and not waiting for the Police to give them an brief interview. Buffy was far more interested in the figure on the medical bed, which she recognized after she was given a good glance at the person's face.

Drusilla.

Her companions recognized the long-haired figure, too, it seemed. Willow spoke up in an informative tone, "I don't know what you were supposed to be looking for, Buffy, but I think we've found it."

"So, the paramedics were under the impression that Drusilla was alive?" Giles asked, needing clarification on the issue.

"Yeah. Which doesn't make much sense, considering most paramedics can tell the difference between someone who has a pulse and someone who doesn't," Buffy answered.

"Well, maybe Drusilla said something--or moved--and they kinda took it as a given that she was alive," Willow piped up.

"Indeed." Giles paused in consideration for a moment, then shook his head. "But it doesn't explain why none of the vampires attacked the policemen--or the paramedics, or the coroner, for that matter. They certainly must have had ample opportunity. And how did the warehouse receive all that damage in the first place?"

Silence greeted him as the Slayerettes contemplated his questions, and their lack of answers.

Giles sighed, removed his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose in a way that suggested he was fighting off a headache. "Perhaps it would be better to look into this matter after we've all had a good night's sleep. We can check for Drusilla at the hospital tomorrow morning, or in the morgue if she has been determined as 'dead.'"

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