Buffy closed her locker and turned. She jumped and yipped in surprise; Bryn McDaniel jumped little as well.

"Um, sorry," the Slayer stammered. "I didn't see you."

"No, no, my fault. I should know better than to… walk up behind someone." Bryn glanced around.

"So, what can I do for you?" Buffy recovered her composure.

"I was wondering…" Bryn bit her lip. "I was wondering what's going on with Cordelia?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't spoken to her in, like over a week."

"Oh." Bryn looked crestfallen. "I thought you might talk to her after the funeral."

"Were you there?" Buffy give puzzled face.

"I was way in the back. I slipped out when they started the viewing."

Buffy's eyes widened. "You could– No, I didn't talk to her. We're… I'm not her favorite person right now. Or maybe ever, or in the future."

Bryn nodded. "Yeah. I was just wondering if you knew what was going on at her house."

"Her house?"

"There's crime scene tape all over it."

Buffy's face scrunched up. "It was the scene of a… pretty violent crime."

"Yeah, but there are lots of cars there, too."

"Police cars, maybe."

Bryn shook her head. "These are all plain black and gray sedans, like…" Her voice faded away and she looked embarrassed.

"Like what?" Buffy tried to pack maximum encouragement into her voice.

"Like you see the feds drive in the movies." Bryn squinted. "It sounds really stupid when I hear myself say it."

"No, no, you're right. That does sound weird." Buffy hefted her books. "So, have you talked to Cordelia?"

Bryn shook her head. "Nope."

Buffy grimaced. "Listen, it's almost time for the bell, and I really cannot afford to be tardy, but… if you hear anything… or you talk to Cordelia… I'd love for you to share?" Her eyebrows rose.

Bryn nodded. "Sure. Um, I'll see you around?"

"I hope so," Buffy said over her shoulder.

"Miss Rosenberg?"

Willow started and turned in the chair. Principal Snyder stood in the door of his office. His expression made it clear that he was not in a good mood. He turned and jerked his hand, beckoning her to enter. Willow gulped, gathered her books and backpack, and went in. Snyder lowered himself into his chair, then pointed toward the straight-back chair opposite. Eyes wide, Willow gingerly sat down.

Principal Snyder picked up a file folder from his desk and perused it for a few seconds, then tossed it down. He fixed Willow with a sour look.

"You've been tutoring Tyler Pittman for the better part of a semester. I'm not seeing any real improvement in his performance."

Willow stammered, "I- I think he's improved. He's definitely, um, I think his test scores are better, and, uh–"

"Please, Miss Rosenberg," Snyder sneered. "We didn't assign you as his tutor to get some negligible improvements around the margins. I was led to believe that you could bring out the potential hinted at in his test scores. Obviously, that was an error."

"Hey." Willow rose up, then sank back down. "That's unfair," she mumbled.

"That's the problem with your generation, never willing to take responsibility. What if the soldiers at the Battle of the Bulge had whined 'It's not fair'?"

"Some of them probably did," Willow murmured under her breath.

"What if the Minutemen at Valley Forge spent all their time whining about the unfairness of the American Revolution? We'd all be speaking… You were assigned to this student to raise his grades. That hasn't happened." Snyder tapped the folder. "As of today, we will assign another student as his tutor." He made an abrupt gesture toward the door. "You can go."

Steaming, Willow went.

"Hey, Ms. Hollis?"

Matti looked up. Brittney Shannon leaned through the office doorway. "Yes," the teacher said, dropping her pen on the desk. "What do you need?"

"We were just wondering… I mean… Why isn't Cordelia coming into the locker room when practice is over?"

Matti's mouth quirked. "You draw the short straw?"

Brittney's nose crinkled, and she looked slightly shamefaced. "Kinda, yeah, but…"

Matti waved a hand. "It's okay, I'm messing with you. Cordelia's doing some extra individual work after practice."

Brittney frowned. "Is she, like, going for a scholarship or something?"

Matti pointed a finger at the girl. "That's it. She's gotten some interest from colleges and she's trying to prep for tryouts."

Brittney nodded. "Oh, okay. Um, thanks Coach."

"No problem." Matti picked up her pen and turned back to her desk calendar. She looked up from under her eyebrows as Brittney went into the locker room. A handful of the other girls approached her and then, after a few moments of conversation, returned to their lockers. Matti sighed and shook her head.

When she looked up again, the clock read 4:15. She glanced through the window; the locker room was empty. She frowned, went down the tunnel to the storage room, and opened the door. The muffled thump and scuffle became clear as Matti stepped inside.

Cordelia's back was to the door as she launched a series of blows against the sides of the bag. The girl stepped back, reset her feet, and launched into another flurry, ending with a kick at the center of the bag. The force of the blow threw Cordelia off-balance, and she had to hop to regain her footing, but the bag jumped. Matti cleared her throat.

Cordelia turned, her breath coming in great heaving gulps. Her hair was plastered to her face where it had worked its way out of her ponytail.

"So, okay." Matti nodded. "So… you, uh… Let me show you something." She stepped toward the bag. "Remember when I said never hit with the flat of your fist?" Cordelia nodded, panting. "Well, sometimes you do have to strike directly. What you do is either use the heel of your hand like this–" Matti demonstrated "-but make sure you use the heel, not the palm or fingers. That's a good way to hurt your wrist. You can also fold your fingers like this, and do a knuckle strike, just make sure you're going for the nose or throat, maybe the eyes. You don't want to break your hand." Cordelia nodded again, watching closely as Matti demonstrated.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked between breaths.

"I've got about twenty minutes of work left," Matti said, watching the girl closely.

"Okay." Cordelia nodded. "I'll do a little more, then I'll hit the shower. Okay." She turned back to the bag and began throwing combinations. Matti backed out of the room and headed toward her office.

"Good God, Dr. Frankenstein," she whispered under her breath, "what have you created?"

"I mean, can you believe it? It's humiliating, that's what it is, humiliating."

"Let me make sure I grok this. This guy was being a gigantic pain in the ass, Snyder took him off your hands, and you're complaining. Maybe my skull is extra dense tonight, but seeing the problem, I'm not." Buffy scanned the cemetery for any suspicious activity.

"No, I mean, when you put it that way, of course it sounds bonkers." Willow crossed her arms and pouted. "It's just… it's humiliating."

"Third time you've said that." The Slayer turned to her friend. Willow was bundled up in a black and white houndstooth coat and, with her arms crossed, resembled a giant Impressionist Dalmation. "Is it possible you're upset because someone didn't respond to the irresistible Rosenberg intellect?"

"You're mocking me!" Willow thrust her fists downward.

"Little bit." Buffy put a hand on Willow's arm. "Will, look at it this way: for once in our lives, Snyder did you a solid. If the guy wasn't going to try, you're wasting your time."

"Still," Willow grumbled.

Buffy shook her head. "You are– what's that?" The cemetery was laid out on a grid, with trees lining the lanes that separated the sections. The Slayer pointed toward a section just to the east. "Behind the trees."

Willow sighed. "Go ahead. I'll bring up the rear." She hoisted the bag of weapons as Buffy sprinted away. By the time she caught up, Buffy was standing confidently amid ashy silhouettes.

"Hmmph," Willow snorted. "Again, I am not needed."

"Oh." Buffy looked wide-eyed at her friend. "If you're feeling left out, I'll be glad to save you one of the next batch."

Willow's face scrunched. "Or not." She relaxed a little. "I know I'm being kind of a big poop."

Buffy put her arm around her friend's shoulder. "Everyone has to right to be a poop now and then."

"Hey, Giles, I–" Buffy stopped short. Giles sat at the table with Matti Hollis. The librarian wore a gray heather sweater vest and a dark blue-and-gray striped repp tie. The Slayer took a short step backward.

"Yes, Buffy, what is it?"

"Uh, nothing, I just…" She shook her head. "Sorry. Drawing a blank here."

Giles and Matti exchanged looks. "Surely you remember that Ms. Hollis is a Knight of the Cross?" the Watcher asked.

"Uh, yeah, I… I, uh, there's kind of a whole boundaries thing here for me." Buffy's index fingers criss-crossed as she pointed at Giles, then Matti.

Matti smothered a smile and pushed away from the table. "I'll go. Not like I don't have classes to get ready for."

"Yes, well, we can continue this conversation at a later time. Perhaps Buffy will shed some light on the situation."

"Whoa, wait. What situation? Why do I suddenly feel like we're midway through an episode of Law & Order and I'm the suspect?"

"Buffy, don't be ridiculous." Giles looked at Matti. "We will talk, later."

"Works for me." Matti pushed through the doors. Buffy watched her leave, then turned on Giles.

"What. Was. That?" the Slayer demanded.

"Ms. Hollis is not our enemy or opponent," Giles said. "We are on the same side and we were discussing the situation in which we find ourselves. Now, please, how was your patrol last night?"

Buffy shrugged. "Will and I dusted a trio at the Revello Street Cemetery, then cut north to check out Edlund's Mini Golf. Thought we might catch some fangs grabbing a little midnight relaxation. We did not, so we sorta looped down through the Heights and that was it."

Giles nodded, a hand rubbing his chin. "There were reports of activity that I am almost sure is vampiric in the southwest part of town, near Crestwood, and the police were called to the zoo. Apparently there were sightings of a group of people scaling the fence and some sort of gang violence."

"What?" Buffy shook her head. "Giles, what does that mean?"

"Well, the incident at the zoo seems to have all the hallmarks of another clash between Trick and the Reverend. I can't say anything about the other incident, but it does appear that this is predicated on the fact that there is only one of you, and that you can only be in one place at a time."

Buffy wandered to the table and sat down. "Is that why you were talking to…" She jerked a thumb toward the door.

Giles glanced at the library door. "Yes. I'm thinking of asking her to assist us."

The Slayer's brow furrowed. "Giles, is that a good idea?"

Her Watcher looked down at her, a patient expression on his face. "They are not civilians. The Chevaliers du Croix may not be accustomed to something as pedestrian as patrolling a city, but they are cognizant of the supernatural and trained to deal with it."

Buffy nodded thoughtfully. "First,'meow'. Second, the big-word explosion makes me think that you think that this is a big deal. Third, 'they'?"

Giles touched the knot of his tie. "The Knights."

"Oh." Buffy nodded. "Okay." Her eyes narrowed. Giles stared back with a face of complete innocence.

"Nice touch." Trick smiled. "Nothin' to make the parents nervous like thinking their kiddies aren't safe at the zoo."

Brooks nodded. "That was the general idea with the zoo and Crestwood. Two locations, fairly high visibility, lots of social interaction, create a little community concern."

Delilah frowned. "But we won't be out in the daytime."

"Doesn't matter." Trick leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers. "Zoo's supposed to be a safe place. Even if, maybe especially if, there's ruckus at night, it still gets in people's minds, and, if I'm not stepping on our brother's territory…" Brooks shook his head. Trick nodded and continued "...Crestwood's a step up the demographic ladder, but it's the same principle. Lots of mommas and daddys send their babies to the community college where it's supposed to be safe, all the little clubs and bars and restaurants around it, punctures their bubble. Now, you're right that we will not be out in the daytime, but they will, and they will spread stories, and rumors, and questions, which makes the community nervous, which–" he shifted his weight forward and raised an index finger "-creates pressure on the Slayer to do something."

Delilah nodded. "Because she's the protector, any increase in community instability causes her to feel internal responsibility."

"That's right," Trick said. "And if we're lucky, she'll do something stupid and get herself killed, but even if she doesn't, we are going to run her ragged."

"And she'll be distracted when we are ready to go." Delilah shook her head.

"Long game." Trick smiled, a particularly unpleasant smile. "Gotta play the long game."