Disclaimer: All Buffy characters were created by Joss Whedon. Not me.

Prologue.

It's been one month since Graduation Day. Give or take. California was in the middle of worst storm in like a, century. Streets turned into rivers, trees were being ripped out by wind. In a Sunnydale Hospital, in one white, blank room, a teenage girl lied. Comatose. Reason? Blood loss and head trauma. Her form was thin, skin pale, hair spread down her back. Only sound in the room was made by a couple of machines near the bed. Never leaving her alone, same monotony following her, or rather leading, for the past month. You could've sit there, in absolute darkness, no windows and you still would be able to count time. Because readings on the machines, lines, they never changed. Never altered, never rose.

But the room had a window. One, white, just like the rest of the room, in the middle of the wall. Opposite the doors. Through that window the only light came to this room. Sometimes sun, it's yellow rays trying, and failing, to light up the room. Now however, it came from a different source.

From a storm. Surprised? No, didn't think so. Although when the storm arrives, sky is crept over by the darkness. Thick dark clouds hanging up there like a threat. When the clouds are thick enough, you could say it's night. And yet, from time to time, the room lighted up. How? Storms that bad are usually paired with lighting. This is the source.

In the faint light you could see the girls face. Pale as her whole body, cheekbones clearly visible. She was pretty, but if were taken proper care of, woke up and get back to her pre-coma state she would be beatiful. Raven beaty. Proper care of... That was the issue. Of course she was fed, even bathed once or twice. That was it. There was no one to shave her legs, cut her hair or even paint her stupid toenails.

They didn't bother. Why? Because the girl had no visitors. All this time, lying in this white room, forgotten by the world. Given up on. And yet her body still seemed to fight. By all means she should be dead. But she survived. How? The answer is simple. This girl was a slayer.

And now, do you really think that's true? No, of course not. If someone would find out about lack of interest in this girl, the whole hospital could've been sent to hell. Not literally. It's already on the Hellmouth.

So it went like this.

Girl had many visitors that cared for her. She had many flowers and ''get well'' cards in her room. Basically, she was never alone. Everyone was waiting impatiently for the girl to wake up and welcome back her to their lives. Once she finally did, the room witnessed a big tearful reunion. When she was feeling well enough to leave, almost whole personnel wished her to not ever come back. Not because they didn't like her, because they cared that much for her.

Too cheesy, right? Okay, this is the real version how it happened.

Girl was getting a good care of. Personnel tried hard, but her room still was white, blank. It was almost ridiculous to think that a young girl such as her, was having only one visitor. He came once a week. Stayed for about an hour. Then left, not speaking much. An older man, by the name of Rupert Giles. He was probably the girls dad. She had a different lastname, but maybe that was mothers? However he requested an immediate call if something changed. It was a sunny day, clouds-free. Sky was blue as it could be. And that's when the girl woke up. For real. As soon as monitors reading changed, nurses rushed to her room. They went in only to find an unfocused, scared pair of eyes looking back at them. Doctor came in and saw that the girl was struggling to say something. He ignored it for now, they had to check her vitals. When they were done, he ordered a nurse to get the girl a little water. She drank few tiny sips and her head fell on the bed exhausted. Yet she still tried to say something. He hushed everyone in the room. The girl managed to speak. In a hoarse, husky voice she asked a question.

''Who am I?''