Buffy swung the front door closed behind her and headed for the stairs. She was halfway up when her mother came out of the kitchen.
"Buffy," Joyce said, "I need to talk to you."
"Sorry," Buffy said from the top of the stairs. "I'm in a real hurry."
"Buffy, it's important. What about--"
"What about Thanksgiving? I know, Mom, it's only a few days away, but I think it's all good. Faith and Lindsay are coming, Giles will be here." The distance from her room to where her mother stood muffled the Slayer's voice. Joyce tapped her foot and stood there, arms crossed, until Buffy appeared at the top of the stairs.
"I'm sorry, Mom, I really am, but tonight's patrol--"
"I don't want to talk about Thanksgiving. I want to talk about this." Joyce held up an envelope.
"Mom," Buffy said, coming slowly down the stairs, "tell me you didn't read that."
"It was probably wrong of me," Joyce said, "but I was cleaning the house and you left this lying on the kitchen cabinet. Maybe I shouldn't have read it, but I did."
"I can explain." The Slayer held up her hands in supplication.
"Were you ever going to tell me you'd gotten your SATs back?"
"Well, yeah, someday."
Joyce shook the envelope. "And these scores? Do you understand what they mean?"
Buffy shrugged. "Willow says they're pretty good."
A giant grin split Joyce's face. "Pretty good? Buffy, these scores will get you into any college in America. Have you mailed in your applications?"
"Mom, I haven't gotten around to it--"
"Why not? It's almost too late as it is. I'll have to call your father, and--"
"Mom!" Buffy held out a hand. "I haven't decided if I'm going to college. The SATs aren't the only thing they look at. Your extracurriculars count and there's the transcript, which in my case isn't exactly hall of fame material."
Joyce looked puzzled. "But with these scores..."
"There's also the slaying thing."
Joyce shook her head. "Are you saying that these Watchers might try to prevent you from getting an education?"
"I don't know. They might." Buffy bit her lower lip. "There's also a good chance I might not make it until college." Joyce gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. Buffy was down the stairs in a flash. "I'm sorry," she said as she hugged her mother. "I shouldn't have said it like that."
Joyce tried to wipe away her tears. "Every time I think I've got a handle on this Slayer thing, you say something like that and I realize just how... terrible it is." She clutched her daughter in a fierce embrace. "You tell Mr. Giles that you may be the Slayer and he may be the Watcher, but I'm your mother, and I say you're going to college."
Buffy laughed through the sobs that welled in her own throat. "I'll do that. It might scare them more than the vampires."
***
"Hey, Linz, you ready?" Faith jiggled the doorknob. "We'll be late."
"Hold your horses." Lindsay came out of the bathroom. She wore black leather pants, black Doc Martens, a black turtleneck and a black quilted vest. Her hair was pulled back. "Afraid you'll miss something?"
"I just don't want Buffy and Giles giving us that look if we show up at the library and they're already waiting." The dark Slayer wrenched the door open. "Let's roll."
***
Buffy and Giles were waiting, but Faith's fears were groundless. She arrived with her Watcher just minutes after the librarian's Citroen had pulled into the parking lot.
"Wow," Buffy said when she saw Lindsay. "Very derring-do. Hey Giles, why don't you ever wear anything cool like this on patrol?"
Giles continued checking the bag for weapons and supplies. "I find that all that black makes me look rather severe."
"An outfit that would match your mood." Gerard Roland stepped out of the shadows. "I wonder if I might join your little expedition."
Lindsay's eyes widened at the sight of the urbane, silver-haired Watcher. Giles gritted his teeth so hard that knots of muscle popped out at the hinge of his jaw. Buffy registered both reactions and waited. The silence grew to epic proportions.
"Come, come Rupert," Gerard said. "Surely you are not so stubborn."
Giles looked at the bag in his hand as he spoke. "I question whether you are prepared for something like this."
Gerard shrugged. "I have not been in the field for some time, but I assure that I have been dedicated in my training. Plus, if I am to be your bulwark before the Council, I should experience first-hand what it is like here on the Hellmouth." He held up an oaken walking stick. "And I brought my trusty staff."
Giles did not respond, just stood there breathing heavily. Lindsay turned to him. "Mr. Giles," she said, her voice beseeching.
"Very well," the librarian said. "I suppose it would be foolish to reject any sort of help."
"Ah," Gerard said, smiling broadly, "that is the sort of talk I like to hear."
***
Cordelia Chase's right hand held back the curtain as she stood at her bedroom window. She wore a gray T-shirt and blue plaid flannel pajama pants. Her feet were bare and her hair hung loose on her shoulders. The house was as quiet as a held breath.
She looked past her silvered reflection in the window, her gaze reaching into the night. Sometimes the darkness seemed frightening, an abyss that waited to swallow her up, but on other nights, nights like tonight, it seemed like a refuge. She could walk into that somber velvet blackness and disappear.
She looked at her charcoal-sketch counterpart in the window. If she did leave (and she knew she wouldn't), who would hold things together then? Too much depended on her. She looked above her reflected shoulder and saw the mirror image of the phone. What if it rang? What if it was Xander instead of Tiffany or Janiece?
Buffy Summers. That was the problem. If it hadn't been for Buffy, Cordelia would never have known there were vampires in Sunnydale, let alone all the other mondo freaks roaming its quiet (ha!) streets. Then she never would have been drawn into fighting them, never would have seen Xander in a new light, never been close to him, never been trapped in that basement, just the two of them, Xander trying to forge a plan, she terrified out of her wits, and then he had looked at her and everything had changed...
For the worse. Life had been hard enough before. Since Buffy had rolled her wagon into town, things were intolerable. That's what Cordelia told herself as she let the curtain fall and padded across the thick carpet to her bed. That's what she told herself, and every time she repeated it, she knew it was a lie.
***
Buffy ducked and let the vampire's kick pass overhead. This maneuver put her at about eye level with the vampire's left knee. She decided to see what would happen if she punched that knee very hard. The joint buckled the wrong way, accompanied by a gruesome crunch and a blood-curdling scream. The vampire toppled over, the pain of the ruined leg distracting it from the approaching stake. As the creature's dust settled into the grass Buffy turned to see how the others were doing.
The five of them had tracked a large group of vampires across the west end of Sunnydale and caught them here at the American Legion baseball field. The brawl ranged across the outfield as the dew formed and a light fog rose from the ground. Buffy had already staked three bloodsuckers and Faith was in the process of beating her second one to a messy pulp. Lindsay and Giles had three vamps trapped in a crook of the outfield fence and were closing in with crosses and stakes. As for Gerard Roland, Buffy had never seen anything like him. Like Faith, Buffy used her Slayer strength and speed to carry the fight to the enemy. Giles and Lindsay, like most regular people Buffy had seen fight vampires, fought with dogged determination and a reliance on carefully rehearsed tactics and strategy. Watching Gerard fight was like watching Gene Kelly dance. He moved with grace and elegance, with no wasted motion or awkwardness, always remaining just out of his opponent's reach until the proper opening presented itself. Then he stepped forward and dispatched his foe with the cleverly sharpened point of his walking stick.
Faith drove a right cross into her vampire's face, then stepped back, measured carefully and unleashed a thunderous spin kick that turned the demon a full one-eighty. The vampire swayed for a second then toppled face first onto the grass. Faith reached down and grabbed it by the collar.
"Faith!" Buffy yelled. "Finish it." The dark Slayer looked at her, shrugged, and pulled a stake out of her jacket.
"Satisfied?" she asked when the vampire was ashes. The two of them started toward the fence. Gerard had joined Giles and Lindsay. They were using great caution as they approached the trio of vamps. The chain link fence was only shoulder high, but this section of the outfield had a second barrier, a nylon net reaching twenty feet in the air; its purpose was to keep home runs from breaking the windows of the homes across the street.
One of the vampires began to scrabble up the net. Giles raised the crossbow he carried and took careful aim. Buffy heard the sharp twang of the string and the meaty thwock of impact. The vampire fell to the ground screaming. The bolt had gone through his calf, the bloody head visible as it protruded beside the shinbone. The other two vamps looked around, panicky. One of them made a feint to the right. Lindsay responded, moving to cut off any avenue of escape. Her foot slipped on the thick, damp grass. She went to one knee. The vampire lunged forward.
Whether the demon was going for Lindsay's throat or simply making a break for it would remain unknown. Faith screamed and hurtled past Buffy. She slammed in to the vampire and carried it back into the fence. A metallic crash rang through the misty night. Faith threw three fast, hard punches. The bloodsucker was still reeling when she staked it. The second upright vampire was backpedaling, hands up. Faith threw her stake hard, like a Randy Johnson fastball, and the creature died with its hands in the air. She turned to the wounded vampire on the ground. The others were rushing forward as she reached down, snapped the head off the crossbow bolt, and plunged the short piece of bloody wood into its heart.
The sudden silence that followed bloomed like a flower. Faith was framed in the halogen glow, tendrils of fog swirling around her. Her eyes were wild and her teeth were bared in a berserker's grimace.
"Faith!" Giles did not sound pleased. "What have you done? We wanted one of them alive to question."
Faith snapped out of her trance and stared at the fuming Watcher. "Hey, tough shit," she said. "Nobody lays a hand on Lindsay."
"Faith, I was all right." Lindsay bit her lower lip, her forehead furrowed.
"We needed information." Giles was not going to let it go.
"Hey, Giles, ease up." Buffy stepped in front of her Watcher and placed a hand on his chest. "When was the last time we got a vamp to tell us anything?"
Giles pointed at an empty patch of ground. "The wounded one might have. We had some leverage there."
"Rupert, Rupert." Gerard took Giles by the arm and turned him away. "What is done is done, but the night is young."
"Yeah," Buffy said, her face brightening. "Miles to go before we sleep and all that."
Giles glanced at her, his eyes sparking. "You do know that poem's about death."
Buffy looked over her shoulder. Lindsay had her arms around Faith. The dark-haired girl was shaking. "No, I didn't," Buffy said, turning back to her Watcher. "Shall I quote Emily Dickinson instead?"
Giles stalked away, muttering, "Just once I wish you would pay attention in class."
***
Xander woke up. Rather, on a continuum between sleep and consciousness he moved one notch closer to wakefulness. His sleep had not been restful. Strange dreams troubled him and the room seemed far too hot. He kicked the tangle of sheets and blankets off him and staggered into the bathroom for a glass of water. His head felt thick and heavy when he returned to bed, his mouth dry and gritty. The neck of his T-shirt was soaked with sweat. He could smell it.
He turned on his side. The phone perched on the bedside table. Xander shook his head, trying to clear it. Maybe he should call Cordy. Sure, it was late, but they'd talked until all hours before. His hand rose, then he remembered what Buffy had said. He rolled over onto his back. He missed her. He missed all her annoying ways, her self-absorption and her blithe disregard for tact. He missed her smell and her touch. He missed her resolve and that weird, iron self-discipline.
But if he couldn't talk to her, he could dream about her. He turned from the phone and in a few minutes had moved back toward the sleep end of the scale. The familiar dream drifted in. He was behind her, walking toward her. They were outside, but she couldn't hear him. She was naked (this was his favorite part of the dream) and her long dark hair flowed down her back. He reached out and touched her shoulder. She turned.
"I've been waiting for you," Faith said.
There was no more sleep that night.
***
Buffy kicked at the ground and tried not to look at the corpse splayed across the sidewalk. Death by vampire was never a pretty sight, but this one was more unsavory than usual. Bits and pieces of the victim, some identifiable and some not, were strewn across the concrete and into the street.
"Do you still think this is just a coincidence?" Giles asked as he stood beside her.
The Slayer shook her head. "No. Something's up." She took a deep breath, hoping to re-inflate her spirits as well as her lungs. Three major skirmishes in one night made it hard to keep a positive mental attitude.
"Rupert, have you examined this body?" Gerard Roland crouched beside the carcass, his forearms resting on his knees.
"No," Giles replied.
"I think you should," Gerard said. "I do not believe this was the work of a vampire."
Giles frowned and hurried to his old friend's side. They conversed in low tones as Buffy went to stand beside Faith. Lindsay started toward the body, then hesitated, stopping halfway between the Slayers and the Watchers. She vacillated for a moment, then approached Giles and Roland.
"Not just a bunch of vampires running wild, is it?" Faith said.
Buffy shook her head. "Not even two bunches running wild."
Faith pursed her lips. "Trick on one side, the Reverend on the other, us in the middle. Makes you wonder what their plans are."
"I'm pretty sure I know what their plans are." Buffy looked up at the sky, noticing the hard brightness of the stars. "Kill us."
The trio of Watchers converged on them. "Gerard is right," Giles said. "This was no vampire attack."
"Bet it wasn't a boating accident either," Buffy said. Faith snickered. Lindsay frowned. Giles and Gerard offered blank stares. "Sorry," the blond Slayer said. "Reflex. What was it?"
Giles rubbed his forehead. "We can't be sure, but it appears to be some sort of animal attack."
Buffy grimaced. "Ordinary animal?"
Giles ran a hand through his hair. "It's hard to tell. My guess would be no."
Buffy shook her head. "I was afraid you'd say that."
***
Willow closed her locker door and spun the dial. "Are you sure?"
Buffy looked at her friend and rolled her eyes. "There wasn't a billboard or a neon sign, but Giles and his pal seem pretty sure."
Willow frowned. "Okay, so why are you sharing with me?"
Buffy leaned close to the redhead. "Remember how you wanted to hack into the morgue's records?"
Willow's eyes widened. "Okay. I'm there."
***
"Rough night?"
Xander looked over his shoulder. "You should talk," he said.
Oz tried to appear nonchalant, but it was a sham. To the observant eye, the diminutive musician's hair was not its usual artful array of spikes, but the matted results of a sleepless night. Xander knew that he was a mess-his skin pale from his sleepless night, his jawline covered in patchy dark stubble.
Not that this made either of them stand out today. The masses of students moving through the halls of Sunnydale High were abnormally subdued. Even a town accustomed to death can be cowed by a surfeit of it, particularly when it is of the violent and bloody sort.
"Stuff on my mind," Oz said.
"Anything in particular?" Xander asked.
Oz shrugged. "Personal stuff. You?"
Xander shook his head. "I wouldn't know where to start."
Movement at the end of the hall caught Oz's eye. He shifted his focus to look over Xander's shoulder. Devon leaned against the wall, his hand raised in greeting. Trey Garcia came up to him and shook hands. Oz watched as they talked for few seconds. Trey nodded then they did some weird hip-hop half-handshake, half-hug thing. They headed off in different directions.
"Oz." He looked at Xander, who was regarding him with what seemed to be real concern. "You all right?"
"Uh, yeah, just took a momentary mental health break." Oz tapped the side of his head. "Did I miss anything while I was on vacation?"
"Hey," Xander said. "What are you doing for lunch?"
Oz looked up at him. "I'm free. Giles needs Willow in the library."
"Tell you what," Xander said, "I'll see you at lunch. We'll compare tales of woe and determine who is the most unmanly."
Oz almost smiled. "Lunch."
***
Buffy picked at the cafeteria salad she had brought to the library. She used her thumb and forefinger to extract a particularly limp section of lettuce. She stared at it.
"If you're through playing with your food, I'd like to get on with this." Giles looked over his shoulder. Buffy dropped the lettuce.
"Sorry," she said. "I was just wondering how they can get away with sucking every single bit of taste and texture out of the food."
"Oh, this is going to be easy." Willow shook her head and began typing away. "They didn't even change the service password. Easiest backdoor in the world." She hit 'Enter.'
Gerard Roland watched the flickering blue screen. "What are you hoping to find?"
Willow shrugged. "Autopsy files. Preliminary examinations. Anything about cause of death."
"But they could not have worked so fast." Gerard sounded perplexed.
"They may have a couple of the bodies from night before last done." Willow glanced over her shoulder. "Besides, we don't need a full workup. I just want anything that says either death by exsanguination--" she turned to Buffy "-that's blood loss--"
"Great," said the Slayer. "I'll keep that one in reserve for Extreme Scrabble."
Willow continued without missing a beat. "-Or death by animal attack." Her hands hovered above the keyboard. "Shall we begin?"
***
Mr. Trick's elbows were planted on the arms of his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his chiseled, impassive face. Mr. Quisling stood to his left. Quisling's hands were folded in front of his belt.
"Make sure that the Mayor's tame doctor understands his part in this." Trick blinked twice. "The last thing I need is for this to blow up in my face because some underling doesn't do his job."
"Yes sir," Quisling said. "What about the others?"
A mordant smile crossed Trick's lips. "Are you talking about us or them?"
"Both." Quisling was nothing if not politic.
The grin remained on Trick's face. "Most of the hillbillies are happy to be killing. They all want Viking funerals anyway. Losses don't matter to them. Better a glorious defeat than a subtle victory."
"And our people?"
"If you hear anyone getting out of line, emphasize that this is the last night."
"And if that doesn't pacify them?"
Trick turned his head to look at his minion. "Then emphasize that I want it this way."
***
Giles stared at the computer screen. Gerard Roland looked over his shoulder. Willow shrugged.
"It is what it is," she said. "Don't shoot the messenger."
Giles spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "More deaths by animal attack than blood loss."
"It could be a ruse," Gerard offered.
"If it is, we're screwed." Willow leaned back in her chair. "Think about it. If somebody's planting false info in the coroner's office to mislead us, then this thing is too big for us to fight."
"She has a point," Gerard said.
A sour expression crossed Giles' face as he looked at his friend. "Nice to see you hold your position so strongly." Gerard shrugged. The librarian turned back to the screen. "There must be an explanation."
"Yeah," Willow said. "More of them died from these attacks than from vampires. They have preliminary reports on all the victims."
"Any full autopsies?" Buffy spoke around a mouthful of salad.
Willow consulted the screen. "Two," she said. "Both animal attacks."
Buffy swallowed. "Anything strange about them?"
Willow stared at the monitor, her lips moving slightly. "Ewww," she said.
Buffy sat up straight. "That sounded promising."
Willow turned to her. "These are big critters. The bite radii are too big for a dog."
Giles took a deep breath. "What about a wolf?"
Willow shrugged. "I suppose they could be big ones."
"Wait a minute," Buffy said. "You said 'they' and 'critters.'"
"Yeah," Willow said. "Both victims show evidence of multiple attacks by more than one assailant."
"Well," Buffy said, "it just gets better and better."
***
Xander put his tray down on the table and sat. Oz was already working on a sub sandwich.
"Let the whinefest begin," Xander said. "I'm guessing your sad story has something to do with the band."
Oz finished chewing, mainly to hide his surprise, and looked at Xander. "That's pretty perceptive. Care to share how?"
"Elementary. There are only two things in your life that could cause you distress-Dingoes Ate My Baby and Willow. I've gathered enough evidence with my own eyes to see that Will is crazy about you and you feel likewise, ergo--" Xander raised a hand, his index finger pointed upward "-the source of your issues must be the band."
Oz nodded once. "Solid reasoning, but you forgot one possibility."
Xander looked perplexed. "I did? What?" Oz held up his hand, hooking the fingers into claws. "Oh, that." Xander gave a dismissive wave. "I don't think your in a funk because you're wolfy."
"You don't think that could have even a little bit to do with it?"
Xander shook his head. "No. That would be way too existential." He pointed at Oz's head. "A hairdo like that comes from concrete problems."
"Okay," Oz said. "You're right. I think Devon might be trying to cut me out of the band."
"What?" Xander's sandwich stopped halfway to his mouth. "How could he do that? You started it with him."
"It gets worse." Oz stared into his cup. "I think he's going to replace me with a guy I suggested as a fill-in."
"Wow, that would pretty much define major-league harsh." The corners of Xander's mouth turned down.
"Okay," Oz said. "Your turn."
"Ah," Xander said, "well--" He stopped and looked toward the cafeteria door. "There's my problem."
Oz turned and looked over his shoulder. Cordelia stood just inside the doorway, talking to Janiece Sutton. He turned back. "Problems with Cordelia?"
"Exactly. Cordelia has a problem that she won't share with me." Xander took a drink.
Oz thought, then spoke with great care. "Could this problem be none of your business?"
Xander rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure that she thinks any part of her life is my business."
***
Cordelia kept shooting little glances over Janiece's shoulder. The other girl was way over-impressed with a new pair of shoes she'd gotten at a boutique downtown, but her babbling provided Cordy with the perfect cover for watching Xander. He was talking to Oz, the two of them having a fine conversation over lunch. Part of Cordelia wanted to push past Janiece and stride across the cafeteria to sit next to him, but another part reminded her of the possible consequences and so, torn between two choices, she settled for using Janiece Sutton as camouflage for her covert glimpses.
***
