[ The lights finally settle on a solid green and the test finally disengages the needles so Buffy can pull her hand free. She rubs her arm again, the same spot where Chuck took a chunk out of her. She's clean. She can still feel the ache but it's like someone turned back the clock to a point where things hadn't gone quite so wrong.

She looks up at her friends, or at least she still hopes they are, and smiles weakly. ]

When you can tell me how to build an emp jammer on low bands you can make me an intern. Don't forget who does- [ She stumbles midsentence, reality asserting itself and killing her smile. ] ...did your graphics.