Willow. Anya's face grew even colder at the mention of her, though it was more through grief than anger. "Dead." Goddess, more than ten years ago now. "Kennedy was killed, she didn't take it so well. And it was bad." Explosion size of bad.
"Slayers were declared terrorists," she smirked bitterly. "A danger to a free society. And then it was anyone associated with Slayers, then anyone slightly different. Every year the definition grew wider and every year the humans loved it."
She nearly broke at the look on Buffy's face. It was one she'd seen a hundred times over the last twenty years. Was it my fault, could I have stopped it. Every survivor thought it at least once.
"There are no Slayers left in the world any more. Barely any Witches. And honestly, I have no idea what's happened to Dawn." She hadn't heard any news of the girl for years. She prayed it was because she was hiding. She feared it was because she was dead. "And Xander," her fingers went again to her wedding ring, a nervous habit. "Last I knew he was alive. On a mission though, trying to find survivors. He'll come back to me. He always does."
Faith, meanwhile, had come down the stairs, hearing only the last statement from the woman she didn't recognize.
"Got your message," she told Buffy warily. "Who's this?"