She wakes up coughing for breath, and considering how things went down the last time this happened to her, Buffy is none too thrilled. Nothing is recognizable, everything dark and quickly going up in smoke, nothing at all like the island, or even Sunnydale. Strangely enough, that comes as a comfort: at least her loved ones are safe from this, whatever this may be. If she didn't know better, she might mistake the ash falling from the clouds for snow, but those are clouds of smoke, and the only way cold could be used to describe the scene has nothing to do with the temperature.

Rising to her feet, she tries to wipe the soot from her clothes but soon gives up, the endeavor pointless. Whether this is another dream or not, she can't just stand around, she has to do something. She just doesn't know what.