It had been over a week since the gang had confronted Ethan Rayne. Over a week since she had learned that one of the "Dark Cloaks" that Ethan served looked like Willow.
She wasn't sure she understood all of Ethan's cryptic riddles but it seemed as though these Dark Cloaks were playing both sides - good and evil - against one another. She wasn't sure what that all entailed, but she was sure about one thing: the human race was caught in the middle.
Buffy pushed door of the mansion and it swung open with a creaking sound. She could smell the warm, welcoming scent of a fire burning in the hearth.
She had planned to lay low, stay quite and wait until she had more information before she would act, but certain thoughts kept nagging at her.
Was this Dark Cloak really Willow? Had she turned dark again? Was this a new Willow? Or was it something that took her form perhaps just to engender these very doubts?
Buffy passed the kitchen, crossed the living room and entered the inner sitting room.
So now she was here in Angel's Mansion. She had come to meet the one person that more and more she found herself placing her trust.
"Hello Faith," she said.
There were many things Not Dead in Sunnydale. Irony, it seems, was one of them.
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