The low rumble of voices rose in pitch and volume as Mr. Trick entered the room. He wore a suit of dark red silk over a black shirt and tie. Delilah followed one stride behind him. Trick stepped up on the low podium and looked out over the conference room. His followers had divided themselves into two groups. The techies, researchers, historians, occult specialists and archaeologists clustered together on his left, occupying about one-third of the room. The much larger group, which filled up the rest of the room, was the tactical unit. Trick stood behind the lectern for a moment, waiting for the buzz to die down. It took longer than he would have liked. As it subsided, he stepped out from behind the lectern, hands in his pockets.
"I know some of you are unhappy," he said. "Well, I'm unhappy, too. I'm not going to lie to you. Things have not gone exactly as planned." He paused, anticipating the swell of complaint that came. "When we took this contract, there was no Slayer on location. Her return was an unforeseen but, I believed, manageable bug in our strategy." He walked behind the lectern, crossing to the other side of the podium, addressing his words to the ceiling. "The arrival of a second Slayer has rendered our contingency plans ineffective. Oh hell, let's be honest. She's blown them higher than a ghetto brother with a forty ounce and a fattie on Friday night." He paused. For a half a heartbeat the room was silent, then a handful of the tac unit laughed. The reaction spread outward in a fast ripple; nothing to bring down the house, but enough to let Trick feel some of the tension ease. He pivoted, turning to face the room.
"I know that they have eliminated the citizens that we have turned. I also know that some of our own people have been taken out. You mourn the passing of your comrades, as do I. I also believe that if we do not change plans this trend will not only continue but worsen. Therefore, I am suspending tonight's operation. I believe we have six newbies scheduled to rise. We are writing them off." He paused again to allow the murmur of surprise to pass. "Is anyone volunteering to go get them?" He looked around the room. No hands rose. "I thought not. We have enough nourishment stockpiled to last for a couple of days. If we need more, well, our blood bank and hospital raids have been extremely successful." He held up a hand to silence groans. "I know, the refrigerated shit is not as good as the real deal straight from a warm vein. Can't be helped.
"We are implementing a new strategy. Since the Mayor brought us to the Hellmouth, we are asking him to shoulder more responsibility. The first phase of the new plan will be his. Also, I'm telling you now to prepare to participate in a joint action with another group."
A voice from the floor bawled out, "You mean the rednecks across town?"
Trick smiled. "I know they're uncultured and unwashed, but they may have their uses."
"Why don't we just make a mass attack and kill the Slayers." Another voice was raised.
Trick nodded. "Good question. First, I'm not sure it would work, at least not in any ratio I'm prepared to live with. I don't want to lose half of you just to kill two girls. Girls who would be replaced by a new Slayer who would be an unknown quantity. I would also remind you that Buffy is not a lone wolf. She has that little crew of misfits with her. Over the years they've turned into a fairly formidable unit just by hanging around."
"So what's our plan?"
Trick smiled. "Our plan is to tear the Slayers' houses down around their ears."
***
Oz noticed the commotion when he was halfway up Devon's driveway. The other members of Dingoes were gathered around something. "What's up?" he asked as he entered. The guys looked at him, then stepped aside.
Trey Garcia stood over an open guitar case. His big hands cradled a cherry-red Gibson Howard Roberts. He grinned as he noodled a quick Chuck Berry/Keith Richards riff.
"Yours?" Oz said.
"You know it. I got a sweet deal." Trey snapped off a twangy open-A lick. Unplugged the guitar sounded small and trebly. Trey ran a hand through his long black hair, pick still grasped between thumb and forefinger.
"It's nice," Oz said as he put down his Telecaster case. He turned to Devon. "We better rehearse."
"Yeah, yeah, we're going to, but first I think we oughta take care of some band business." Devon's head bobbed up and down like one of those weird dolls.
"Business?" Oz looked up from where he squatted beside his guitar.
"Yeah." Devon sat down on a speaker cabinet. "Engines of Industry officially broke up."
"Yeah?" Oz's forehead puckered.
Devon nodded. "Yeah, and I thought we could ask Trey to join us on a permanent basis."
"Really." Oz stood up, rubbing his hands down his thighs. "Is this a forum or a formality?"
Devon frowned. "Huh?"
Trey shifted uncomfortably. "If you guys got issues, I can take a walk."
"Why?" Doug leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. "It's about how the band sounds, isn't it? We sound better when you play. We can do more stuff. Far as I'm concerned, it's a done deal."
Oz stared at Doug. The bass player stared back. "Geoff?" Oz said.
"I'm down with it." The drummer twirled a stick between his fingers. "We're crazy better with him."
Oz nodded, running his tongue around his teeth. "Well," he said to Trey, "welcome to Dingoes Ate My Baby." His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he extended his hand.
***
Xander leaned against the exterior wall of the Bronze and scanned the street. A steady stream of students trickled into the club; his gaze flicked across the groups and concentrated on the individuals. He had been here for a while. Maybe it was time to go in.
That's when he saw her walking toward him, passing through the pools of light cast by the street lamps, making each one look like a spotlight. He pushed away from the wall and turned toward her.
"I was afraid you weren't coming," he said.
Cordelia's upper lip curled. "I seriously thought about it."
"Thought about passing up the Bronze? A chance to see and be seen?" He touched the back of his hand to her forehead. She jerked her head away.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Checking for fever. You might be delirious." He nodded toward the door. "Shall we enter, m'lady?"
Cordelia tried to put on a sour face. "Well, since I'm already here..."
"Ah, that's the spirit." He extended his hand. Cordelia hesitated, then reached out and laced her fingers through his.
***
"Damn, that's unsatisfying." Faith looked as though she'd bitten into something very unpleasant.
Buffy shrugged, looking at the dust drifting away on the night breeze. "I think six is pretty good."
"Please. These vamps belonged on the short bus."
Buffy turned to the dark-haired Slayer. "It's pretty obvious they were just risen."
"Duh, you think?" Faith made a flicking gesture with one hand. "They still had dirt in their hair."
Buffy shoveled stakes and supplies into the Slayer bag. "Hey, it's that time of year. I'm thankful for a night of easy vamp killing." She looked at Faith. "Speaking of which, what are you and Lindsay doing for Thanksgiving?"
Faith shrugged, her mood still surly. "Hell if I know."
"Well, if Lindsay doesn't have any special plans, you guys are officially invited to the Summers house."
Faith blinked, then smiled. "Hey, thanks. I'll tell Linz." She tossed her head. "You wanna swing by the Bronze?"
Buffy thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Not tonight. You go on. I'm going to make sure everything's cool here, then I'll probably go home."
Faith raised her hand. "Keep it cool, B." She disappeared into the night. Buffy watched her go.
"That was so sweet."
Buffy stiffened at the sound of the voice, then made a slow turn to face the speaker.
"Angel. I'm surprised to see you here."
He leaned against the trunk of a tree, his dark clothing indistinguishable from its bulk, his pale face seeming to float in midair. He looked to his left, then back at Buffy. "I was just out taking a stroll. I can't do it during the afternoon. Oh, wait, you know that."
Buffy's shoulders slumped as she closed her eyes. "Is there a point to this or are we just going to rip on each other?"
Angel pushed away from the tree and crossed the distance between them. His stride was fluid and easy. Buffy's eyes opened as he drew near. Her weight shifted, her right foot slipped back just bit and her shoulders turned. He stopped and stared at her through narrowed eyes.
"Relax," he said. "Why so tense?"
Her posture changed not a whit. "Why are you here? Our last conversation made it pretty clear that I'm not your favorite person."
He rocked up on his toes for a second then dropped back on his heels. "I never said that."
"Don't." Buffy shook her head. "Don't jerk me around like this. I--"
"What?" he said. "You don't deserve it?"
"I don't. I know that you suffered, but I suffered too. Every night I had dreams, and every day I carried the burden of what I had to do."
"Suffering?" Angel's voice climbed. "I'd share what I went through with you, but there aren't words in human language to describe that kind of pain."
"I had all the pain I could bear," Buffy said, her voice a near-whisper. "Don't you dare act as though I sang and danced through everything. I'll never be the same."
Angel rubbed a hand along his jaw. "Funny, neither will I." He turned and took two steps then turned back. "You should be careful."
"I'm always careful."
Angel shook his head. "I've watched you and Faith fight. You're starting to get sloppy."
"Excuse me?" Buffy cocked her head.
"Not your skills."
Buffy's face flushed with anger. "Then where?"
He was silent for a moment then he touched his temple. "Up here. The two of you are starting to think that you can handle whatever comes at you, no questions asked. You're starting to believe that you're invulnerable."
Buffy's mouth set in a thin line. "I've been vulnerable for too long."
Angel shrugged. "Just thinking out loud. Word to the wise, you know." He turned away again and his last words floated back to her on the night breezes. "I'll see you around."
***
Xander flopped down on the sofa. Cordelia kept a more dignified posture as she took her seat. He wiped a hand across his forehead. It came away glistening. He held it out to Cordelia.
"Hot on the dance floor," he said.
"Ewwwww," she said, pulling away. "What next? Showing me the stuff between your toes?"
"Nah. I don't feel like taking off my shoes." He leaned back. "Don't look now, but bogies at ten o'clock."
"What?" Cordelia frowned. He pointed past her as Harmony came out of the crowd, followed by Aura and Keely.
Harmony stopped when she saw them. Feet planted and hands on hips, she looked them over, then turned to the Harmonaires. "Look. It's the king and queen of Loserville."
"Gee," Xander said, "those seem like awfully grand titles for a town. Shouldn't it be more like the Mayor and, oh, the City Manager of Loserville?"
Harmony's forehead scrunched up. "Huh?"
"Well, kings and queens usually rule over a much larger area than just a town or city."
"God, Harris, are you retarded or something?" Harmony pouted for a minute, then turned on her heel and disappeared into the herd, her cronies close behind her.
"I don't know about you," Xander said, "but I'm ready to go."
"Amen," Cordelia said.
They went around the pool tables and headed for the door. Xander saw someone waving out of the corner of his eye. He turned and spotted Faith. She dropped her hand and glided toward them.
"Xander!" she said as she drew close, drawing out the last syllable of his name. "What's up?"
He shrugged. "Nothing, really."
"You guys leaving?"
He nodded. "Yeah. How about you?"
She shook her head. "No way. Just got here."
"Well, have a good time." Xander put his hand on Cordelia's shoulder.
Faith winked. "You know it." She moved back toward the dance floor, already swaying in time to the music. Xander kept a hand on Cordelia's back as they left the club. They had gone only a short distance when he noticed Cordelia shiver.
"Here," he said, peeling his sweater over his head. "Put this on." He held it out to her.
"I'm fine." She waved it away.
"I know you're cold," he said, pushing it toward her. "I'm okay. I've got my T-shirt."
She looked at the sweater for a moment, then took it from him. It hung almost to her knees and she had to roll the sleeves up, but it was warm. "Thanks," she said as she pulled her hair free from the collar.
"Hey, no big," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?"
Cordelia shrugged. The movement was almost invisible inside the large sweater. "Flying to Aspen on Friday morning. Skiing Friday afternoon, Saturday, and Sunday morning, then back to dear old Sunnydale on Sunday night."
"But you're going to be here for Thanksgiving?"
"Yeah, but--" She turned on him. "Xander, is this leading up to some suggestion that I come to your house for Thanksgiving or vice-versa?"
Xander scratched his ear. "I'm not sure how my house could come to you for Thanksgiving, but you can rest easy. I'm not about to invite you to my house for the holiday." He chuckled. "We don't exactly celebrate the traditional Thanksgiving, unless the Puritans also practiced the ritual of falling asleep drunk in front of the TV and just forgot to write it down." They walked in silence for a space, then Xander cleared his throat. "I was going to hint that I wouldn't mind coming to your house."
Cordelia stopped. "Xander, why is this such a big deal?"
"Cor, I realize that we're not like every other couple in town. Believe me when I say that I'm aware of the vast gulf between us. But we've been dating almost a year and I've never been to your house. I've never met your family."
"So? I've never met yours."
Xander blinked. "Yes, but in my defense I must point out that my family completely and irrevocably insane."
Cordelia looked at him for a moment, a deep hurt visible in her eyes. "Maybe they're not the only ones." She walked away from him, arms folded in front of her and head down.
He had to run to catch up. "Cor, wait," he said, grabbing her by the shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"I'm fine." She reached up to dislodge a stand of hair, blown across her face by the night breeze.
Xander looked at her, his face grave. "No, you're not. You haven't been since you disappeared. What happened?"
Cordelia looked up at the night sky then back at him. "Xander, don't. I just need space."
"See, there's where I think you're wrong. I don't think you need space. I think you need a lack of space. Non-space. I'm talking about you and me together like the clowns in that little car at the circus." He stepped closer. "I think that's what you need." He reached out and she stepped away. For a heartbeat, his fist clenched in frustration, then he opened his hand and let it fall. He rubbed his hands across his face. "I want to be there for you. I really do, but I don't know where 'there' is. Right now, I couldn't find 'there' with a map and a flashlight. Cor, I want to help, but you've got to let me in."
She looked away, her hair drifting in the wind. When she looked back her face had a hard, angry look. "Are you going to fix me, Xander? Is that what this is about? Some little do-good quest?"
His mouth gaped. "No, that's not... I just... We're dating. You're my girlfriend. I just... I want to be whatever help I can be. It's sort of implied in the relationship."
Her lips trembled. "And what if it's more than you can handle, Xander. What then?"
He stared into her eyes and his voice was steady. "I'd at least like the chance to find out."
She blinked. "Sorry. Not good enough." She turned and walked away, head down and arms hugging her body.
"Wait," Xander called. She did not turn around. "That's my sweater," he said in a confused voice. He watched her grow smaller. He took one step to follow her then shook his head.
"Forget about it," he said. "I don't need this."
***
Willow looked at the book one last time. Her lips moved slightly as she repeated the words to herself. She nodded and pushed the book aside.
She turned her full attention to her desk. A paper cup held an ice cube. Willow licked her lips and began to murmur the words of the spell, her attention focused on the cup. Thoughts tried to push in--Are you getting the words right? Shouldn't you be studying? What's Oz doing? What would this look like if it worked? She pushed them out of her mind. Her focus must be clear and pure, unclouded by outside stimuli.
Her eyes itched. She wanted to blink, or rub them, but she willed herself to keep focused. The cup sat there, unchanged...
There was an ephemeral glow. It surrounded the cup for a nanosecond then disappeared. Willow gasped. A flame shot out of the cup, a small blue flame, undeniably real. Willow's face nearly cracked from the grin that exploded across it.
That's when she realized that the cup had caught fire. Hands flapping, she jumped to her feet, looking around. Nothing presented itself immediately. She grabbed the smoldering cup and turned it upside down to try and smother it. One of the side effects of the fire from ice spell was that unlocking the fire dissolved the ice. Water poured out of the cup onto her desk. The flame extinguished. Willow stared at her desk, at the water running across its surface, at the bits of ash in the water, at the ruined cup. The bitter smell of smoke hung in the air. Willow waved a hand in front of her face.
"Okay, note to self," she said. "Next time, better preparation."
***
Buffy grasped the phone on her third try. She struggled to sit up in bed as she brought the receiver to her ear. "H'lo," she mumbled.
"Buffy, Lindsay's not here." Faith sounded panicky and shaken.
"What? Faith? Where are you?" Buffy snapped on the lamp beside her bed, blinking in the sudden illumination.
"At the motel. I just got home. Lindsay's not here."
Buffy fumbled for the clock. "You just got home at... 2:30 am? Uh, maybe... maybe she just went to get something to eat."
"No way. Her bed's still made. Something's wrong." Faith's voice was edging toward hysteria.
"Faith." Buffy's tone was sharp and severe. "Get a grip. I'll call Giles and we'll be there. Sit tight, okay?" She broke the connection and tapped in the Watcher's number.
"Hello, Giles? Yeah, I know what time it is. It's real important. Faith says Lindsay's missing."
***
Faith was bouncing off the walls when Buffy stepped inside Unit #6 of the ValleyView. The dark-haired Slayer grabbed her jacket.
"Great," she said. "You're here. Let's go."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoaaaaaaaa." Buffy grabbed her by the arm. "I called Giles. He's on his way over."
"No way. I'm not waiting. I gotta find Lindsay." Faith tried to pull away.
Buffy held on tight. "He'll be here in a few minutes. Chill."
Faith's eyes sparked and Buffy barely got her arm up in time to block the punch. She got in close and wrapped the taller girl up in a bear hug. One of Faith's arms was free and Buffy felt the blows raining down on her back. "Faith," she shouted, "calm down! Just calm down!" The punches slowed, softened, and ceased. Buffy held on tight, tensed for the furor to resume. She felt Faith trembling and realized that the other Slayer was crying.
"What's going on?"
Buffy realized that she hadn't closed the door. She peered around Faith's ribs. Giles stood in the open doorway, a confused look on his face and his hair sticking up in disarray. Buffy untangled herself from Faith with great care. She embraced the girl in a more conventional hug. Faith's head rested on her shoulder, an awkward pose given the difference in their heights. She felt the hot tears soaking into her shirt.
She looked at Giles. "Little panic attack. Lindsay's missing. We need to come up with a plan."
"No need. Ms. Maeda will be here shortly." The look on Giles's face was so strange and unreadable that Buffy frowned in puzzlement. The Watcher crossed the room and took Faith by the shoulders. He peeled her away from Buffy and guided her to a chair. "Would you fetch a wet cloth?" he said. Buffy shrugged and went into the bathroom. Giles took the cold washcloth from her and handed it to Faith. The dark-haired girl began wiping her eyes. Giles guided Buffy toward the door.
"Giles, what's going on?" Buffy said. Giles did not reply. Instead he went outside. Buffy glanced at Faith, then at Giles. He stood on the sidewalk, one foot tapping. He pushed back the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch. Headlights cruised down the street and turned into the ValleyView. The Ford Taurus parked in front of #6. The front doors opened. Gerard Roland got out of the driver's door and stretched. A disheveled-looking Lindsay Maeda slammed the passenger door closed and rushed past Giles. Buffy stepped out onto the concrete stoop. Lindsay pushed past her. Giles did not look happy as he approached Gerard Roland. The tall Watcher grinned at his old friend. Buffy looked at Giles, then glanced through the open door. Lindsay had dragged the other chair over to sit by Faith. The dark Slayer had her eyes closed and one hand on her forehead. Buffy looked back at Giles and Roland. The two body languages could not have been more different. Giles was stiff and straight, his gesture sharp and angular. Gerard shrugged, looking unconcerned. Buffy looked back inside the room, then at the two Watchers, and the penny dropped.
"Uh-oh," she said in a soft voice.
***
"I know some of you are unhappy," he said. "Well, I'm unhappy, too. I'm not going to lie to you. Things have not gone exactly as planned." He paused, anticipating the swell of complaint that came. "When we took this contract, there was no Slayer on location. Her return was an unforeseen but, I believed, manageable bug in our strategy." He walked behind the lectern, crossing to the other side of the podium, addressing his words to the ceiling. "The arrival of a second Slayer has rendered our contingency plans ineffective. Oh hell, let's be honest. She's blown them higher than a ghetto brother with a forty ounce and a fattie on Friday night." He paused. For a half a heartbeat the room was silent, then a handful of the tac unit laughed. The reaction spread outward in a fast ripple; nothing to bring down the house, but enough to let Trick feel some of the tension ease. He pivoted, turning to face the room.
"I know that they have eliminated the citizens that we have turned. I also know that some of our own people have been taken out. You mourn the passing of your comrades, as do I. I also believe that if we do not change plans this trend will not only continue but worsen. Therefore, I am suspending tonight's operation. I believe we have six newbies scheduled to rise. We are writing them off." He paused again to allow the murmur of surprise to pass. "Is anyone volunteering to go get them?" He looked around the room. No hands rose. "I thought not. We have enough nourishment stockpiled to last for a couple of days. If we need more, well, our blood bank and hospital raids have been extremely successful." He held up a hand to silence groans. "I know, the refrigerated shit is not as good as the real deal straight from a warm vein. Can't be helped.
"We are implementing a new strategy. Since the Mayor brought us to the Hellmouth, we are asking him to shoulder more responsibility. The first phase of the new plan will be his. Also, I'm telling you now to prepare to participate in a joint action with another group."
A voice from the floor bawled out, "You mean the rednecks across town?"
Trick smiled. "I know they're uncultured and unwashed, but they may have their uses."
"Why don't we just make a mass attack and kill the Slayers." Another voice was raised.
Trick nodded. "Good question. First, I'm not sure it would work, at least not in any ratio I'm prepared to live with. I don't want to lose half of you just to kill two girls. Girls who would be replaced by a new Slayer who would be an unknown quantity. I would also remind you that Buffy is not a lone wolf. She has that little crew of misfits with her. Over the years they've turned into a fairly formidable unit just by hanging around."
"So what's our plan?"
Trick smiled. "Our plan is to tear the Slayers' houses down around their ears."
***
Oz noticed the commotion when he was halfway up Devon's driveway. The other members of Dingoes were gathered around something. "What's up?" he asked as he entered. The guys looked at him, then stepped aside.
Trey Garcia stood over an open guitar case. His big hands cradled a cherry-red Gibson Howard Roberts. He grinned as he noodled a quick Chuck Berry/Keith Richards riff.
"Yours?" Oz said.
"You know it. I got a sweet deal." Trey snapped off a twangy open-A lick. Unplugged the guitar sounded small and trebly. Trey ran a hand through his long black hair, pick still grasped between thumb and forefinger.
"It's nice," Oz said as he put down his Telecaster case. He turned to Devon. "We better rehearse."
"Yeah, yeah, we're going to, but first I think we oughta take care of some band business." Devon's head bobbed up and down like one of those weird dolls.
"Business?" Oz looked up from where he squatted beside his guitar.
"Yeah." Devon sat down on a speaker cabinet. "Engines of Industry officially broke up."
"Yeah?" Oz's forehead puckered.
Devon nodded. "Yeah, and I thought we could ask Trey to join us on a permanent basis."
"Really." Oz stood up, rubbing his hands down his thighs. "Is this a forum or a formality?"
Devon frowned. "Huh?"
Trey shifted uncomfortably. "If you guys got issues, I can take a walk."
"Why?" Doug leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. "It's about how the band sounds, isn't it? We sound better when you play. We can do more stuff. Far as I'm concerned, it's a done deal."
Oz stared at Doug. The bass player stared back. "Geoff?" Oz said.
"I'm down with it." The drummer twirled a stick between his fingers. "We're crazy better with him."
Oz nodded, running his tongue around his teeth. "Well," he said to Trey, "welcome to Dingoes Ate My Baby." His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he extended his hand.
***
Xander leaned against the exterior wall of the Bronze and scanned the street. A steady stream of students trickled into the club; his gaze flicked across the groups and concentrated on the individuals. He had been here for a while. Maybe it was time to go in.
That's when he saw her walking toward him, passing through the pools of light cast by the street lamps, making each one look like a spotlight. He pushed away from the wall and turned toward her.
"I was afraid you weren't coming," he said.
Cordelia's upper lip curled. "I seriously thought about it."
"Thought about passing up the Bronze? A chance to see and be seen?" He touched the back of his hand to her forehead. She jerked her head away.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Checking for fever. You might be delirious." He nodded toward the door. "Shall we enter, m'lady?"
Cordelia tried to put on a sour face. "Well, since I'm already here..."
"Ah, that's the spirit." He extended his hand. Cordelia hesitated, then reached out and laced her fingers through his.
***
"Damn, that's unsatisfying." Faith looked as though she'd bitten into something very unpleasant.
Buffy shrugged, looking at the dust drifting away on the night breeze. "I think six is pretty good."
"Please. These vamps belonged on the short bus."
Buffy turned to the dark-haired Slayer. "It's pretty obvious they were just risen."
"Duh, you think?" Faith made a flicking gesture with one hand. "They still had dirt in their hair."
Buffy shoveled stakes and supplies into the Slayer bag. "Hey, it's that time of year. I'm thankful for a night of easy vamp killing." She looked at Faith. "Speaking of which, what are you and Lindsay doing for Thanksgiving?"
Faith shrugged, her mood still surly. "Hell if I know."
"Well, if Lindsay doesn't have any special plans, you guys are officially invited to the Summers house."
Faith blinked, then smiled. "Hey, thanks. I'll tell Linz." She tossed her head. "You wanna swing by the Bronze?"
Buffy thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Not tonight. You go on. I'm going to make sure everything's cool here, then I'll probably go home."
Faith raised her hand. "Keep it cool, B." She disappeared into the night. Buffy watched her go.
"That was so sweet."
Buffy stiffened at the sound of the voice, then made a slow turn to face the speaker.
"Angel. I'm surprised to see you here."
He leaned against the trunk of a tree, his dark clothing indistinguishable from its bulk, his pale face seeming to float in midair. He looked to his left, then back at Buffy. "I was just out taking a stroll. I can't do it during the afternoon. Oh, wait, you know that."
Buffy's shoulders slumped as she closed her eyes. "Is there a point to this or are we just going to rip on each other?"
Angel pushed away from the tree and crossed the distance between them. His stride was fluid and easy. Buffy's eyes opened as he drew near. Her weight shifted, her right foot slipped back just bit and her shoulders turned. He stopped and stared at her through narrowed eyes.
"Relax," he said. "Why so tense?"
Her posture changed not a whit. "Why are you here? Our last conversation made it pretty clear that I'm not your favorite person."
He rocked up on his toes for a second then dropped back on his heels. "I never said that."
"Don't." Buffy shook her head. "Don't jerk me around like this. I--"
"What?" he said. "You don't deserve it?"
"I don't. I know that you suffered, but I suffered too. Every night I had dreams, and every day I carried the burden of what I had to do."
"Suffering?" Angel's voice climbed. "I'd share what I went through with you, but there aren't words in human language to describe that kind of pain."
"I had all the pain I could bear," Buffy said, her voice a near-whisper. "Don't you dare act as though I sang and danced through everything. I'll never be the same."
Angel rubbed a hand along his jaw. "Funny, neither will I." He turned and took two steps then turned back. "You should be careful."
"I'm always careful."
Angel shook his head. "I've watched you and Faith fight. You're starting to get sloppy."
"Excuse me?" Buffy cocked her head.
"Not your skills."
Buffy's face flushed with anger. "Then where?"
He was silent for a moment then he touched his temple. "Up here. The two of you are starting to think that you can handle whatever comes at you, no questions asked. You're starting to believe that you're invulnerable."
Buffy's mouth set in a thin line. "I've been vulnerable for too long."
Angel shrugged. "Just thinking out loud. Word to the wise, you know." He turned away again and his last words floated back to her on the night breezes. "I'll see you around."
***
Xander flopped down on the sofa. Cordelia kept a more dignified posture as she took her seat. He wiped a hand across his forehead. It came away glistening. He held it out to Cordelia.
"Hot on the dance floor," he said.
"Ewwwww," she said, pulling away. "What next? Showing me the stuff between your toes?"
"Nah. I don't feel like taking off my shoes." He leaned back. "Don't look now, but bogies at ten o'clock."
"What?" Cordelia frowned. He pointed past her as Harmony came out of the crowd, followed by Aura and Keely.
Harmony stopped when she saw them. Feet planted and hands on hips, she looked them over, then turned to the Harmonaires. "Look. It's the king and queen of Loserville."
"Gee," Xander said, "those seem like awfully grand titles for a town. Shouldn't it be more like the Mayor and, oh, the City Manager of Loserville?"
Harmony's forehead scrunched up. "Huh?"
"Well, kings and queens usually rule over a much larger area than just a town or city."
"God, Harris, are you retarded or something?" Harmony pouted for a minute, then turned on her heel and disappeared into the herd, her cronies close behind her.
"I don't know about you," Xander said, "but I'm ready to go."
"Amen," Cordelia said.
They went around the pool tables and headed for the door. Xander saw someone waving out of the corner of his eye. He turned and spotted Faith. She dropped her hand and glided toward them.
"Xander!" she said as she drew close, drawing out the last syllable of his name. "What's up?"
He shrugged. "Nothing, really."
"You guys leaving?"
He nodded. "Yeah. How about you?"
She shook her head. "No way. Just got here."
"Well, have a good time." Xander put his hand on Cordelia's shoulder.
Faith winked. "You know it." She moved back toward the dance floor, already swaying in time to the music. Xander kept a hand on Cordelia's back as they left the club. They had gone only a short distance when he noticed Cordelia shiver.
"Here," he said, peeling his sweater over his head. "Put this on." He held it out to her.
"I'm fine." She waved it away.
"I know you're cold," he said, pushing it toward her. "I'm okay. I've got my T-shirt."
She looked at the sweater for a moment, then took it from him. It hung almost to her knees and she had to roll the sleeves up, but it was warm. "Thanks," she said as she pulled her hair free from the collar.
"Hey, no big," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?"
Cordelia shrugged. The movement was almost invisible inside the large sweater. "Flying to Aspen on Friday morning. Skiing Friday afternoon, Saturday, and Sunday morning, then back to dear old Sunnydale on Sunday night."
"But you're going to be here for Thanksgiving?"
"Yeah, but--" She turned on him. "Xander, is this leading up to some suggestion that I come to your house for Thanksgiving or vice-versa?"
Xander scratched his ear. "I'm not sure how my house could come to you for Thanksgiving, but you can rest easy. I'm not about to invite you to my house for the holiday." He chuckled. "We don't exactly celebrate the traditional Thanksgiving, unless the Puritans also practiced the ritual of falling asleep drunk in front of the TV and just forgot to write it down." They walked in silence for a space, then Xander cleared his throat. "I was going to hint that I wouldn't mind coming to your house."
Cordelia stopped. "Xander, why is this such a big deal?"
"Cor, I realize that we're not like every other couple in town. Believe me when I say that I'm aware of the vast gulf between us. But we've been dating almost a year and I've never been to your house. I've never met your family."
"So? I've never met yours."
Xander blinked. "Yes, but in my defense I must point out that my family completely and irrevocably insane."
Cordelia looked at him for a moment, a deep hurt visible in her eyes. "Maybe they're not the only ones." She walked away from him, arms folded in front of her and head down.
He had to run to catch up. "Cor, wait," he said, grabbing her by the shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"I'm fine." She reached up to dislodge a stand of hair, blown across her face by the night breeze.
Xander looked at her, his face grave. "No, you're not. You haven't been since you disappeared. What happened?"
Cordelia looked up at the night sky then back at him. "Xander, don't. I just need space."
"See, there's where I think you're wrong. I don't think you need space. I think you need a lack of space. Non-space. I'm talking about you and me together like the clowns in that little car at the circus." He stepped closer. "I think that's what you need." He reached out and she stepped away. For a heartbeat, his fist clenched in frustration, then he opened his hand and let it fall. He rubbed his hands across his face. "I want to be there for you. I really do, but I don't know where 'there' is. Right now, I couldn't find 'there' with a map and a flashlight. Cor, I want to help, but you've got to let me in."
She looked away, her hair drifting in the wind. When she looked back her face had a hard, angry look. "Are you going to fix me, Xander? Is that what this is about? Some little do-good quest?"
His mouth gaped. "No, that's not... I just... We're dating. You're my girlfriend. I just... I want to be whatever help I can be. It's sort of implied in the relationship."
Her lips trembled. "And what if it's more than you can handle, Xander. What then?"
He stared into her eyes and his voice was steady. "I'd at least like the chance to find out."
She blinked. "Sorry. Not good enough." She turned and walked away, head down and arms hugging her body.
"Wait," Xander called. She did not turn around. "That's my sweater," he said in a confused voice. He watched her grow smaller. He took one step to follow her then shook his head.
"Forget about it," he said. "I don't need this."
***
Willow looked at the book one last time. Her lips moved slightly as she repeated the words to herself. She nodded and pushed the book aside.
She turned her full attention to her desk. A paper cup held an ice cube. Willow licked her lips and began to murmur the words of the spell, her attention focused on the cup. Thoughts tried to push in--Are you getting the words right? Shouldn't you be studying? What's Oz doing? What would this look like if it worked? She pushed them out of her mind. Her focus must be clear and pure, unclouded by outside stimuli.
Her eyes itched. She wanted to blink, or rub them, but she willed herself to keep focused. The cup sat there, unchanged...
There was an ephemeral glow. It surrounded the cup for a nanosecond then disappeared. Willow gasped. A flame shot out of the cup, a small blue flame, undeniably real. Willow's face nearly cracked from the grin that exploded across it.
That's when she realized that the cup had caught fire. Hands flapping, she jumped to her feet, looking around. Nothing presented itself immediately. She grabbed the smoldering cup and turned it upside down to try and smother it. One of the side effects of the fire from ice spell was that unlocking the fire dissolved the ice. Water poured out of the cup onto her desk. The flame extinguished. Willow stared at her desk, at the water running across its surface, at the bits of ash in the water, at the ruined cup. The bitter smell of smoke hung in the air. Willow waved a hand in front of her face.
"Okay, note to self," she said. "Next time, better preparation."
***
Buffy grasped the phone on her third try. She struggled to sit up in bed as she brought the receiver to her ear. "H'lo," she mumbled.
"Buffy, Lindsay's not here." Faith sounded panicky and shaken.
"What? Faith? Where are you?" Buffy snapped on the lamp beside her bed, blinking in the sudden illumination.
"At the motel. I just got home. Lindsay's not here."
Buffy fumbled for the clock. "You just got home at... 2:30 am? Uh, maybe... maybe she just went to get something to eat."
"No way. Her bed's still made. Something's wrong." Faith's voice was edging toward hysteria.
"Faith." Buffy's tone was sharp and severe. "Get a grip. I'll call Giles and we'll be there. Sit tight, okay?" She broke the connection and tapped in the Watcher's number.
"Hello, Giles? Yeah, I know what time it is. It's real important. Faith says Lindsay's missing."
***
Faith was bouncing off the walls when Buffy stepped inside Unit #6 of the ValleyView. The dark-haired Slayer grabbed her jacket.
"Great," she said. "You're here. Let's go."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoaaaaaaaa." Buffy grabbed her by the arm. "I called Giles. He's on his way over."
"No way. I'm not waiting. I gotta find Lindsay." Faith tried to pull away.
Buffy held on tight. "He'll be here in a few minutes. Chill."
Faith's eyes sparked and Buffy barely got her arm up in time to block the punch. She got in close and wrapped the taller girl up in a bear hug. One of Faith's arms was free and Buffy felt the blows raining down on her back. "Faith," she shouted, "calm down! Just calm down!" The punches slowed, softened, and ceased. Buffy held on tight, tensed for the furor to resume. She felt Faith trembling and realized that the other Slayer was crying.
"What's going on?"
Buffy realized that she hadn't closed the door. She peered around Faith's ribs. Giles stood in the open doorway, a confused look on his face and his hair sticking up in disarray. Buffy untangled herself from Faith with great care. She embraced the girl in a more conventional hug. Faith's head rested on her shoulder, an awkward pose given the difference in their heights. She felt the hot tears soaking into her shirt.
She looked at Giles. "Little panic attack. Lindsay's missing. We need to come up with a plan."
"No need. Ms. Maeda will be here shortly." The look on Giles's face was so strange and unreadable that Buffy frowned in puzzlement. The Watcher crossed the room and took Faith by the shoulders. He peeled her away from Buffy and guided her to a chair. "Would you fetch a wet cloth?" he said. Buffy shrugged and went into the bathroom. Giles took the cold washcloth from her and handed it to Faith. The dark-haired girl began wiping her eyes. Giles guided Buffy toward the door.
"Giles, what's going on?" Buffy said. Giles did not reply. Instead he went outside. Buffy glanced at Faith, then at Giles. He stood on the sidewalk, one foot tapping. He pushed back the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch. Headlights cruised down the street and turned into the ValleyView. The Ford Taurus parked in front of #6. The front doors opened. Gerard Roland got out of the driver's door and stretched. A disheveled-looking Lindsay Maeda slammed the passenger door closed and rushed past Giles. Buffy stepped out onto the concrete stoop. Lindsay pushed past her. Giles did not look happy as he approached Gerard Roland. The tall Watcher grinned at his old friend. Buffy looked at Giles, then glanced through the open door. Lindsay had dragged the other chair over to sit by Faith. The dark Slayer had her eyes closed and one hand on her forehead. Buffy looked back at Giles and Roland. The two body languages could not have been more different. Giles was stiff and straight, his gesture sharp and angular. Gerard shrugged, looking unconcerned. Buffy looked back inside the room, then at the two Watchers, and the penny dropped.
"Uh-oh," she said in a soft voice.
***
