Faith managed to enter City Hall without having to slay more than one vampire, which she accomplished with a minimum of noise. Mayor Wilkins stood when she entered his office but made no further move. His deputy, Finch, did move, but Faith stayed him with a look.

"Well, well," said Wilkins. "Your ears must have been burning. We were talking about you this morning."

"Yeah? Why was that?" asked Faith.

"Seems that you are now The Slayer, with capital 'T' and capital 'S'."

"Hmm, I like to think of myself as having capital T and A," said Faith.

"Now, now, young lady, I don't allow language like that in here," Wilkins chided. "This isn't the Oval Office, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," replied Faith. "So, you admitting you killed Buffy?"

"Killed her?" Wilkins chuckled. "Hardly. It wasn't part of my plan to upset the delicate balance on the Hellmouth quite so soon."

"But you know she's dead."

"Well, I am the Mayor. I know what the police know."

"Not to mention whatever Trick knows."

"Heh-heh. That's right. You and he go back a ways, don't you? But you've wasted your time. I was just telling Allan, here, that it's about time to leak Miss Summers' demise to the press. It'll be in the papers tomorrow morning, along with the obituaries of her two friends." He paused. "Cordelia Chase and... is it Harmony Kendall? It's so sad, isn't it, Allan, when young people go before their time?"

"Found any bodies?" asked Faith.

"No, actually, but if you should stumble upon them, it could be very rewarding for you to let me know."

"That'd be nice, except I don't work for you, Wilkins."

"That's a real shame, too. A clever girl like you finding her way in here past all my security. Mr. Trick did leave me with some security, right?" Allan was about to speak when Faith answered for him.

"You've got four guards left. You had five."

"And if I called them in here right now?" asked Wilkins playfully.

"Then you'd have… Let me see. Oh, yeah. Exactly none."

"Heh-heh. You are cocky as well as clever. I like that. Isn't cockiness an appealing quality, Allan? I mean, in someone who can back it up the way my girl Faith can."

"I'm not your girl."

"No, not yet. I hope you will be, though. I think someone with your talents would find herself appreciated more in my service than she is by that stodgy Watchers' Council. Oh, yes, I know all about those stuff-shirts across the pond."

"Save your breath," said Faith.

"But here, Faith, you would be my number one. With the Council you're only second choice."

"Buffy isn't here anymore," Faith said. "I'm their only choice now." With that she backed out of the office, glancing over her shoulder once to see where she was going. Wilkins strolled to the door and looked out into the empty hallway. Then he returned to his desk.

"She makes a fast exit, too," he observed nonchalantly.

"You want me to call anyone?" asked Allan.

"Who?" cried the Mayor. He picked up a gavel from his desk. "Trick is out searching for Spike, and he obviously didn't leave enough security to protect ME!" With the last word, Wilkins brought his gavel down on a crystal paperweight, smashing it into myriad pieces that scattered across the floor.

Finch shielded his face with his arms as shards peppered his pants. Recovering himself, he asked, "Isn't it just as well she didn't accept your offer? Mr. Trick is still your number one, isn't he?"

"So far," said Wilkins.

Giles and Angel drove downtown in Giles' car to search for Buffy. They walked around together for a while and were about to split up when Angel said, "Who does that look like?"

Giles squinted through his glasses. "It-it looks like Cordelia."

"I'm on it," said Angel. "Are you coming with?"

Angel was difficult to keep up with, but Giles managed. They followed the woman who resembled Cordelia passed the coffee shop and the theater. She did look a great deal like Cordelia except that Cordelia never wore quite so much form-fitting black leather and never before any PVC at all. Giles tried to wipe his glasses on the run but nearly stumbled and had to put them back on right away. Cordelia—or the woman who looked like her—stayed ahead of them consistently. She walked around the block—by chance passing Giles' parking spot—and turned to enter the mall.

"If you'll be good enough to follow her in," Giles suggested. "I'll go round to the rearmost entrance."

"At the rate she's going, you'd better take the car or she'll come out before you can get there."

"Right!" called Giles as he dashed off.

Angel entered the mall and saw that the woman who resembled Cordelia was already half way across the concourse and headed for the rear exit, gliding through the crowd of shoppers without obstruction. In the harsh artificial light of the mall, she looked strikingly artificial herself. Her skin was pale and her hair seemed especially dark and sleek. Her lips, when she turned to one side for a moment so that Angel could see them, were thickly red and there seemed to be a touch of rouge on her cheek which only emphasized the paleness of the rest of her. She wore black stilettos, dark nylon stockings, a tight black leather miniskirt, and an equally tight black PVC top, which appeared to be low-cut, although it was difficult to tell from behind because a leather jacket that came only to the midriff, did cover her shoulders. Nevertheless, Angel saw enough now to be convinced that it was Cordelia. He hurried to catch up, but she reached the exit well before him.

As Angel exited through the double doors, he saw Cordelia standing at the curb. Giles had just parked a few feet away from her and called her name as he clambered out of his car. She whirled and vamped out. Giles nearly fell backward as Cordelia advanced on him.

"Cordelia," called Angel. She turned to face him. He did not bother to put on his game face. Cordelia snarled at him, and then cast a doubtful glance in Giles' direction. As she turned away from them both, Angel recognized the little sports car that now pulled up to the curb. The license plate read "Queen C." The passenger door opened and in an instant Cordelia was inside. Even before she shut the door, the car screeched away, leaving a trail of rubber ten feet long.

"Did you see who was driving?" Giles asked breathlessly.

"I saw it," replied Angel, "but did you believe it?"

Spike snuck into Willy's by the back way. He eyed the room for a moment. There, as he had hoped, was Trick, sitting at a table, nursing wounds and, evidently, in his cups already. He seemed to be alone. Spike had noted that each of the vampires at the Summers house had gone off in a different direction.

Spike slipped into the chair beside Trick. "Let's parlay under a truce," suggested Spike. Trick eyed him suspiciously but made no move.

"What's to discuss?" said Trick. He took another sip of his Bloody Mary, which, Spike could tell from the smell, had been made with real blood. It was Willy's specialty.

"You know I didn't kill those cheerleaders," said Spike, "or anybody else for all that."

"How do I know that?"

"Because you did it."

"Huh?" said Trick.

"And besides, I know near as well as you that Buffy has turned."

Trick snorted. "What—you saw the girl do a pirouette?"

"I saw her in the woods the other night, and I know when I'm looking at a vampire."

Trick was quiet for a moment. "You talk to the girl?"

"No, I didn't talk to her," said Spike, "but I've only seen three vampires in this town who coulda turned her, and I know Angel and me didn't do it, so it had to 've been you."

"Well, this is an awkward situation," said Trick. "I'm supposed to take you out for all the killings, and now you know that I'm the one whose hide the Mayor would be after if he knew the truth."

"Yeah, so what?"

"Well, this little parley don't give me no reason not to kill you, do it?"

"But killin' me only buys you time. Sooner or later, the Mayor'll find out that Buffy—and Cordelia, too, I'll wager—" Spike gave Trick a chance to nod acknowledgment of this surmise, "—that they're the ones doin' all the killin' around town. In that case, you'll be needin' an alibi. I'll tell the Mayor I turned the birds, and you can rest assured he'll never suspect it was you."

"You'd do that for me? Why?"

"To save my own skin for one."

"But how can I trust you?"

"Simple. If I talk, I'm dust."

"But the Mayor still expects me to bring your ashes back tonight."

"You'll be bringing me back whole tonight, instead."

"He'd probably tell me to waste you."

"Not if I made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

"That'd be…?"

"Well, let me ask you a question," said Spike. "Where are the rest of your men, really?"

Trick looked worried for a moment, and he replied cautiously. "You not only answer a question with a question, you ask one that don't make sense," he said.

"These killings. They couldn't be just Buffy and Cordelia alone," said Spike, laying out his entire hand. "There's teamwork in 'em. So where did your men go, Trick?"

"All right," said Trick, surrendering his secret at last.