“So you just jumped through this rift, without even knowing where you were going?” Faith asks in disbelief as she chugged back her glass of Jack Daniels, feeling the sting as it went down her throat.

“I was told I might be able to find my husband here,” the dark-skinned woman answer, sitting straight in her chair as she slowly sipped the beer Faith had given her as if it were water. “Nothing else mattered.”

“Well, I guess you came to the right place,” Faith admitted. “If you want to talk to the dead, then Sunnydale’s the place to be.”