Oz hunched over the steering wheel, his focus on the car in front of him. He was following Trey's old Karmann Ghia (figured even his car would be the ultimate shabby-cool vehicle) and wondering why he was here. The clattering Volkswagen turned into the concrete driveway of a 70's-era ranch-style house. Oz pulled to the curb. When he walked around the front of the van Trey was waving to him from the small porch.
"Welcome to casa Garcia," Trey said as he opened the door. Oz stepped inside. He didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't this painfully neat collection of mismatched furniture dominated by bookcases stuffed to the gills. He followed Trey down the hall to the second door on the right.
A framed promotional poster for Robert Cray's "Midnight Stroll" album hung over the bed. Issues of Guitar World, Guitar Player, and Guitar Shop were strewn around the room. Trey dug into the closet and pulled out a scuffed Fender hardshell case.
"You wanna play the Strat?" he asked.
Oz shook his head. "Middle pickup gets in the way."
"Okay, uh, how about the Gibson?" Trey pointed to his red Howard Roberts model sitting in a stand under the window.
Oz leaned against the doorjamb, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Sure." He pushed away from the door and took the guitar. Trey pointed to a black amplifier at the foot of the bed. "You can plug into that if you want. It's a Fender Studio 85. They don't make 'em anymore, but it's pretty sweet for a solid-state." Oz plugged the guitar cable into the amp and flipped the power switch. He strummed a couple of chords, adjusting to the size and resonance of the guitar.
Trey slung the gold Strat over his shoulder. "Any particular song you feel like playing? 'Fields of Autumn' maybe?"
Oz shook his head. "No Dingoes songs." He slipped the guitar strap over his head and placed the instrument back in the stand. "In fact, I really don't feel like playing at all."
"Kind of hard to jam if you're not playing."
"So you're going to do it." A corner of Oz's mouth twitched. "Kind of poetic justice if you think about it. In a way that sucks."
Trey's fingers moved on the Strat's neck as he stared at Oz. "Devon said you were acting kind of squirrelly. I thought he was imagining it until now."
Oz's eyes hardened. Blood began to thrum in his ears, almost roaring out his voice. "Is that the plan? Tell people I had to be eased out because I was 'unstable'?"
Trey frowned. "You seem to have this strange idea that you're being forced out of Dingoes." Oz didn't move. Trey continued. "I could remind you that I was happy playing with Engines. I could remind you that it was your idea for me to play with Dingoes. But I won't." He plugged the Strat into the amp and ripped off a diminished lick with almost casual ease before turning to Oz. "So what's this about?"
Oz felt choked. "Don't play me."
For the first time Trey seemed angry. "Who's playing you?"
Oz felt himself breathing fast. His heart thudded in his chest. "I can't play what you play. You've always got some great part or riff that I can't come up with."
Trey sat down on the bed, guitar cradled in his lap. "That's it? I can noodle better than you?"
"I wouldn't call it noodling."
"Please." Trey banged out a series of bar chords. "That's all there is. Just twelve notes and some ways to group 'em. I can do that. But I can't do what you do." He leaned forward. "Do you know why Engines sucked? We didn't have the songs, man. I could play myself blue in the face, and I did, but it didn't matter. We didn't have the material. You have the material. You can do what I can't. You can write the songs."
Oz frowned. "You don't have to make it sound like I'm Barry Manilow."
***
Xander sat on the grass and watched Cordelia walk toward him. That seemed like a simple thing, but what John Elway was to the two-minute drill, what Michael Jordan was to the last-second shot, what Lou Reed was to the gritty urban rocker, Cordelia Chase was to walking in a short skirt. She seemed to move at highlight speed-the not-quite-actual-velocity that ESPN used to show the day's great plays. Xander could have watched her all day.
"Are you just going to sit there?" she asked.
He patted the ground beside him. "You could join me."
"In this skirt?" Cordelia made a wry face. "Yeah, that's what I want to do, flash half the school." A snappy reply formed in Xander's head, but he pushed it away and got to his feet. Cordelia took his hand as they walked across the lawn. "Do you have any plans for tonight?" she said.
He shrugged. "Well, I was planning to spend it with the prettiest girl in school, but if she's busy I could call you."
She pulled her hand away and thumped him on the shoulder. "That's not even funny." She took his hand again. "Listen, I was thinking--"
"Xander!" They turned to see Willow sprinting toward them across the lawn. She skidded to a stop, her red sneakers sliding on the slick grass. "Giles needs us. Library." She spun on her heel to lead the way.
"Wait a minute." Cordelia's jaw was set, her hands on her hips. "Why do we always have to drop everything and run to the library? There are lives going on here, you know."
Willow took two steps toward them. "Giles thinks Lindsay's been kidnapped."
Cordelia grimaced. "Oh poop. Now I look like the bad guy."
***
Faith paced the length of the library then turned and started back. "We go in and we get her. Kill anybody gets in our way. End of story."
Cordelia raised her hand. Giles looked at her, his eyebrows rising toward his hairline. "I was just wondering if I was the only one who thought this had 'trap' written all over it," she said.
"Screw that," Faith snapped. "I'll take 'em down so hard and fast it won't matter."
Buffy looked at Willow. "Where's Oz?"
Willow shrugged and looked apologetic. "I couldn't find him. Time was short."
Giles raised his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. "This is obviously some sort of ambush. I think that's plain on the face of it. Still, we cannot abandon Lindsay."
Cordelia's eyes narrowed in thought. "So, even though we know it's a set-up, we're going to walk into it anyway?"
"Boy, can she cut to the chase or what?" Xander squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, I even made a little pun. Get it? Cut to the 'chase'?"
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Maybe you can paralyze them with your non-wit."
Buffy gave him the gimlet eye. "We have no choice. At least not in what we do."
Giles nodded. "We do, however, have a great deal of leeway in how and when."
"Sound like you've already thought about it," Xander said.
Giles nodded. "Willow and I have run through a number of scenarios."
"Okay, great swami," Xander said. "Let's hear 'em."
Giles ran a hand across his forehead. "This is the one we think will work the best."
***
"This was the best one? Man, I'd hate to see the ones that sucked." Xander kicked at the dirt. Giles ignored him. The address Willie the snitch had given them was the dilapidated house at the end of the block. The Scoobies were across the street, giving them a long diagonal view of the property.
"We have at least two hours of daylight," the Watcher said. "That's more than enough."
"Fifteen minutes will be enough," Faith snarled.
"Look, we know you're tougher than leather, so just throttle back, okay?" Buffy extended a placating hand toward Faith. The other girl shook it off and pointed toward Giles with her chin.
"Would you be patient if he was in there?" she said.
Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Because that would be the best way to get him back safe. Try and chill."
Faith's lips writhed. "Don't tell me to calm down. If I'd gone with my gut and hadn't been at your house, I might have found her last night." A heavy silence blossomed in the air. Buffy's face went paper-white.
"Glad to see that didn't cause an awkward moment," Willow whispered to Xander.
"Do you remember your role?" Giles asked. Xander hefted the sledgehammer he held.
"When you guys go in, we uncover as many windows as we can," he said.
"Concentrating on..." Giles prompted.
"The south and west," Xander said, rolling his eyes.
"Excuse me." Cordelia held her crowbar at arm's length. Perhaps she was afraid it would turn into a snake. "I can't stress enough how much damage using this will do to my manicure."
"If Cordelia's on board," Buffy gave the cheerleader a pointed look, "let's go." City maps had revealed an alley that ran parallel to Huston Street behind the decaying residence. They crossed the street and slipped through a side yard. The alley was easy to spot; it was about eight feet wide and since it was city property, neither of the individuals whose property touched it bothered with mowing. Brittle yellow-brown grass, fat burrs and split seedpods choked the passage. Trees and hedges that bordered the alley had grown untrimmed, providing the six of them with an effective screen. They stopped in the lee of a large pine. Buffy held up a hand, then crept across the back yard. She made a complete circuit of the house.
"Can't see inside," she whispered as she ducked back behind the tree. "Plywood over all the windows. Seems quiet though." She moved out, the Scoobies in single file behind her. They eased onto the sagging porch and arrayed themselves on either side of the door, Xander, Cordelia, and Faith on the left, Buffy, Willow, and Giles on the right. Giles examined the door carefully, then nodded to Buffy. She seated herself in front of the door, rolled back on her shoulders and unleashed a powerful kick that splintered the door and separated it from its hinges. Faith was in before the door popped out of the frame and the others followed.
They were in a large rectangular room, standing about midway along one of the long sides. A stairway led up from the west end and a steel door underneath it promised basement access. Giles pointed up. The Slayers nodded and launched themselves up the stairs, the Watcher close behind. Xander went for the windows.
The heavy velvet (what was it with vampires and the velvet, Xander thought. Was it something hard-wired in or was it just tradition?) drapes came down with a yank, pooling on the floor. Half-inch plywood covered the frame. Cordelia got the crowbar behind the wood. Xander and Willow leaned on it with her. Nails screamed as they were torn from aged oak sills. The four by eight sheet of plywood twisted loose on one side. Xander drew back the sledgehammer and brought it crashing down, as the first screams became audible. The panel pinwheeled off the frame, knocking a hole in the drywall as sunlight came streaming through the dirty windows. Working on the theory that anything that interrupted light was bad, Xander used the hammer to knock the glass out of the frames. The three of them paused in a golden swirl of sunlight and dust before moving to the next window.
They had all the windows on the west clear by the time Buffy and Faith came back down the stairs. Xander made eye contact with Buffy and was rewarded with a tiny shake of her head. No Lindsay. Faith reached for the door to the basement.
"Whoa." Buffy grabbed her arm. "You're not just charging down there blind."
Faith shook loose. "Time's wasting. She's got to be down there."
"Faith, we only found four vampires upstairs. We know this guy has a pretty good posse. That's means they'll be packed into the basement like thirteen year-olds at a Hanson concert."
"Brrrr." Xander shuddered. "I hate those guys."
"Hanson or vampires?" Willow asked.
"Both."
Faith's eyes smoldered. "I'm going down there, with you or through you. Your call, B."
Buffy gripped the brunette Slayer by the shoulders. "Faith, we've got to find out what's down there."
"Uh, guys?" Willow pointed toward the door. "I think we're going to find out." The sound of feet pounding on the stairs became audible just seconds before the door crashed open, framing a lanky vamp in battle-face. Sounds of movement came from behind him. Faith reached out and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward. Buffy and Giles slammed the door closed. Xander dropped the sledgehammer and added his weight to theirs.
Faith jerked the vamp up on tiptoe. "Where is she?" she screamed, flecks of spit spraying the demon's face.
"Wh-who?" the vampire stammered.
Faith walked the vamp back until it teetered on the brink of the patch of sunlight cast by the open window. Willow and Cordelia pulled back. "One more time," Faith snarled. "Where is she?"
The vampire flailed in panic. "Who? Who are you looking for?"
"Wrong answer." A look of hatred so crazed it made Xander blanch passed across Faith's face and she thrust the creature back into the light. An unearthly shriek was torn from its throat. It began to smoke; its arms flailed like a man trying to shoo a wasp from his back. Writhing and screaming, it burst into flame an instant after Faith released her grip.
Willow fanned the air in front of her face. "Man, I hate it when they burn."
"Tell me about it." Cordelia coughed. "I'll never get the smell out of my hair."
"Guys, more pressing problems." Buffy's voice betrayed a certain amount of strain. The basement door shook under the force of heavy blows. Giles was grateful that the vampires had installed the security door; a regular wooden panel would have been in splinters by now.
"Cor, Willow, get outside." Xander leaned into the door at a forty-five degree angle. The girls hustled out the front door. Faith fell in beside Xander.
"Your turn," she said to him. "Get out."
"Normally my cowardice would produce instant obedience." Xander's voice was tight. "But what will you do?"
"Xander!" Buffy shouted over her shoulder. "Look in the bag. What do we have?"
Xander scuttled over to the Slayer bag and rummaged through it. "Stakes, cross... Holy water." He held up four bottles. "How long can you hold them?" The upper corner of the door was beginning to bend outward.
"How long do we need to?" Buffy grunted. Xander didn't reply. He gathered up the curtains torn from the window and soaked them with the sacred solution. He tossed the last empty bottle away and scooped up the sodden velvet.
"Okay," he said. "Let it go."
The Slayers and the Watcher stepped back. The door sprang open. Two vampires tried to lunge out and collided, wedging themselves in the doorway. Xander dashed forward and threw the holy water-soaked drapes over them. As the burning drapery fell over them the vamps howled and toppled backward, clearing the steps. Buffy slammed the door as Giles grabbed the bag and the four of them beat a retreat to the overgrown lawn where Willow and Cordelia waited. Buffy bent over, her hands on her knees and her breath coming in huge gulps.
"What happened?" Willow demanded in an urgent tone. "What... " Her voice faded away. Buffy looked up. She didn't need to be told that the figure just inside the door was Othniel Hampton. Everything about him looked hard and judgmental. He stared out at them from the safety of the interior gloom and spoke with a voice like a prophet bent on either saving or killing.
"Why have you come to my house?"
"Like you don't know, you sonofabitch," Faith spat.
He looked at her. "Yes, the Slayer who has dogged my heels. Where is your minder, girl?"
"You've got her, you bastard." Faith actually took a step toward the porch. "Let her go or I'll kill you."
Hampton chuckled, a sound like rubbing two sandpaper blocks together. "Perhaps it is my destiny to die at your hands, but not today. Do not blame me for misplacing your handler. After all, where were you when she was taken?" Faith screamed and lunged forward. Buffy caught her by the back of the shirt and dragged her back. Hampton looked at them with even more malevolence in his face. "I will not forget this affront." He disappeared back into the gloom.
Faith whirled to face Buffy. "Come on. We've got to go in and get her."
Buffy shook her head very slowly, never taking her eyes from Faith's. "She's not in there. You heard him."
"You're believing him? He's lying."
"Faith, you can say a lot of things about him, but scared of us isn't one of them." Buffy articulated very clearly. "If Lindsay was bait in a trap, why weren't they expecting us? She's not here."
Faith shook her head. "Then Trick's got her. We've gotta go after him."
"No. Not tonight. It'll be dark before long." Buffy nodded toward the house. "I don't think it's a good idea to be out tonight, not with them pissed at us."
Faith pulled away. "Then I'll go alone."
Giles stepped up beside Buffy. "And where will you go? I understand that you want to rush out and save her, but we must have more information. If Lindsay is bait, as Buffy said, then Trick will keep her alive to draw us to him."
"What if he doesn't?" Tears ran down Faith's face.
Giles took a deep breath. "Then I expect she's dead already and it will do no good. If we are to help Lindsay, we must prepare."
"Come on." Buffy gently took Faith's arm. "You're coming home with me. Giles will go into research mode and--"
"And I'll help." Willow's voice was firm.
Faith looked at Buffy, her eyes pleading with the blond Slayer. "I just... I can't lose her. I just can't."
Buffy wrapped her arms around the other girl. "We won't."
***
The grating of the door as it opened stirred Lindsay out of her haze. Mr. Trick filled her skewed perspective as he bent down in front of her. "Hey, how's it goin'?" he asked. He looked at her for a moment, then signaled someone with him. Lindsay heard a zipping sound as the duct tape around her left arm was sliced. Trick reached out of her field of vision; his hand returned holding a glass.
"Here," he said. "Water."
Lindsay fumbled for the glass, her left hand heavy and clumsy. Trick held it until she had a firm grip on it. She took a few sips and looked at him.
"This is a little out of character, don't you think?" Her voice was raspy and painful.
Trick frowned. "What, you think this is personal? It's not." He shrugged. "Not that I feel remorse or anything, it's not like that."
Lindsay coughed. "You're not enjoying this?"
Trick made a who-cares face. "I wouldn't say that either. It's just not about you." He stood up. Lindsay twisted her face up to see him slipping on a yellow paper smock. "Now," he said, "since that hand's already free..."
"Welcome to casa Garcia," Trey said as he opened the door. Oz stepped inside. He didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't this painfully neat collection of mismatched furniture dominated by bookcases stuffed to the gills. He followed Trey down the hall to the second door on the right.
A framed promotional poster for Robert Cray's "Midnight Stroll" album hung over the bed. Issues of Guitar World, Guitar Player, and Guitar Shop were strewn around the room. Trey dug into the closet and pulled out a scuffed Fender hardshell case.
"You wanna play the Strat?" he asked.
Oz shook his head. "Middle pickup gets in the way."
"Okay, uh, how about the Gibson?" Trey pointed to his red Howard Roberts model sitting in a stand under the window.
Oz leaned against the doorjamb, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Sure." He pushed away from the door and took the guitar. Trey pointed to a black amplifier at the foot of the bed. "You can plug into that if you want. It's a Fender Studio 85. They don't make 'em anymore, but it's pretty sweet for a solid-state." Oz plugged the guitar cable into the amp and flipped the power switch. He strummed a couple of chords, adjusting to the size and resonance of the guitar.
Trey slung the gold Strat over his shoulder. "Any particular song you feel like playing? 'Fields of Autumn' maybe?"
Oz shook his head. "No Dingoes songs." He slipped the guitar strap over his head and placed the instrument back in the stand. "In fact, I really don't feel like playing at all."
"Kind of hard to jam if you're not playing."
"So you're going to do it." A corner of Oz's mouth twitched. "Kind of poetic justice if you think about it. In a way that sucks."
Trey's fingers moved on the Strat's neck as he stared at Oz. "Devon said you were acting kind of squirrelly. I thought he was imagining it until now."
Oz's eyes hardened. Blood began to thrum in his ears, almost roaring out his voice. "Is that the plan? Tell people I had to be eased out because I was 'unstable'?"
Trey frowned. "You seem to have this strange idea that you're being forced out of Dingoes." Oz didn't move. Trey continued. "I could remind you that I was happy playing with Engines. I could remind you that it was your idea for me to play with Dingoes. But I won't." He plugged the Strat into the amp and ripped off a diminished lick with almost casual ease before turning to Oz. "So what's this about?"
Oz felt choked. "Don't play me."
For the first time Trey seemed angry. "Who's playing you?"
Oz felt himself breathing fast. His heart thudded in his chest. "I can't play what you play. You've always got some great part or riff that I can't come up with."
Trey sat down on the bed, guitar cradled in his lap. "That's it? I can noodle better than you?"
"I wouldn't call it noodling."
"Please." Trey banged out a series of bar chords. "That's all there is. Just twelve notes and some ways to group 'em. I can do that. But I can't do what you do." He leaned forward. "Do you know why Engines sucked? We didn't have the songs, man. I could play myself blue in the face, and I did, but it didn't matter. We didn't have the material. You have the material. You can do what I can't. You can write the songs."
Oz frowned. "You don't have to make it sound like I'm Barry Manilow."
***
Xander sat on the grass and watched Cordelia walk toward him. That seemed like a simple thing, but what John Elway was to the two-minute drill, what Michael Jordan was to the last-second shot, what Lou Reed was to the gritty urban rocker, Cordelia Chase was to walking in a short skirt. She seemed to move at highlight speed-the not-quite-actual-velocity that ESPN used to show the day's great plays. Xander could have watched her all day.
"Are you just going to sit there?" she asked.
He patted the ground beside him. "You could join me."
"In this skirt?" Cordelia made a wry face. "Yeah, that's what I want to do, flash half the school." A snappy reply formed in Xander's head, but he pushed it away and got to his feet. Cordelia took his hand as they walked across the lawn. "Do you have any plans for tonight?" she said.
He shrugged. "Well, I was planning to spend it with the prettiest girl in school, but if she's busy I could call you."
She pulled her hand away and thumped him on the shoulder. "That's not even funny." She took his hand again. "Listen, I was thinking--"
"Xander!" They turned to see Willow sprinting toward them across the lawn. She skidded to a stop, her red sneakers sliding on the slick grass. "Giles needs us. Library." She spun on her heel to lead the way.
"Wait a minute." Cordelia's jaw was set, her hands on her hips. "Why do we always have to drop everything and run to the library? There are lives going on here, you know."
Willow took two steps toward them. "Giles thinks Lindsay's been kidnapped."
Cordelia grimaced. "Oh poop. Now I look like the bad guy."
***
Faith paced the length of the library then turned and started back. "We go in and we get her. Kill anybody gets in our way. End of story."
Cordelia raised her hand. Giles looked at her, his eyebrows rising toward his hairline. "I was just wondering if I was the only one who thought this had 'trap' written all over it," she said.
"Screw that," Faith snapped. "I'll take 'em down so hard and fast it won't matter."
Buffy looked at Willow. "Where's Oz?"
Willow shrugged and looked apologetic. "I couldn't find him. Time was short."
Giles raised his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. "This is obviously some sort of ambush. I think that's plain on the face of it. Still, we cannot abandon Lindsay."
Cordelia's eyes narrowed in thought. "So, even though we know it's a set-up, we're going to walk into it anyway?"
"Boy, can she cut to the chase or what?" Xander squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, I even made a little pun. Get it? Cut to the 'chase'?"
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Maybe you can paralyze them with your non-wit."
Buffy gave him the gimlet eye. "We have no choice. At least not in what we do."
Giles nodded. "We do, however, have a great deal of leeway in how and when."
"Sound like you've already thought about it," Xander said.
Giles nodded. "Willow and I have run through a number of scenarios."
"Okay, great swami," Xander said. "Let's hear 'em."
Giles ran a hand across his forehead. "This is the one we think will work the best."
***
"This was the best one? Man, I'd hate to see the ones that sucked." Xander kicked at the dirt. Giles ignored him. The address Willie the snitch had given them was the dilapidated house at the end of the block. The Scoobies were across the street, giving them a long diagonal view of the property.
"We have at least two hours of daylight," the Watcher said. "That's more than enough."
"Fifteen minutes will be enough," Faith snarled.
"Look, we know you're tougher than leather, so just throttle back, okay?" Buffy extended a placating hand toward Faith. The other girl shook it off and pointed toward Giles with her chin.
"Would you be patient if he was in there?" she said.
Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Because that would be the best way to get him back safe. Try and chill."
Faith's lips writhed. "Don't tell me to calm down. If I'd gone with my gut and hadn't been at your house, I might have found her last night." A heavy silence blossomed in the air. Buffy's face went paper-white.
"Glad to see that didn't cause an awkward moment," Willow whispered to Xander.
"Do you remember your role?" Giles asked. Xander hefted the sledgehammer he held.
"When you guys go in, we uncover as many windows as we can," he said.
"Concentrating on..." Giles prompted.
"The south and west," Xander said, rolling his eyes.
"Excuse me." Cordelia held her crowbar at arm's length. Perhaps she was afraid it would turn into a snake. "I can't stress enough how much damage using this will do to my manicure."
"If Cordelia's on board," Buffy gave the cheerleader a pointed look, "let's go." City maps had revealed an alley that ran parallel to Huston Street behind the decaying residence. They crossed the street and slipped through a side yard. The alley was easy to spot; it was about eight feet wide and since it was city property, neither of the individuals whose property touched it bothered with mowing. Brittle yellow-brown grass, fat burrs and split seedpods choked the passage. Trees and hedges that bordered the alley had grown untrimmed, providing the six of them with an effective screen. They stopped in the lee of a large pine. Buffy held up a hand, then crept across the back yard. She made a complete circuit of the house.
"Can't see inside," she whispered as she ducked back behind the tree. "Plywood over all the windows. Seems quiet though." She moved out, the Scoobies in single file behind her. They eased onto the sagging porch and arrayed themselves on either side of the door, Xander, Cordelia, and Faith on the left, Buffy, Willow, and Giles on the right. Giles examined the door carefully, then nodded to Buffy. She seated herself in front of the door, rolled back on her shoulders and unleashed a powerful kick that splintered the door and separated it from its hinges. Faith was in before the door popped out of the frame and the others followed.
They were in a large rectangular room, standing about midway along one of the long sides. A stairway led up from the west end and a steel door underneath it promised basement access. Giles pointed up. The Slayers nodded and launched themselves up the stairs, the Watcher close behind. Xander went for the windows.
The heavy velvet (what was it with vampires and the velvet, Xander thought. Was it something hard-wired in or was it just tradition?) drapes came down with a yank, pooling on the floor. Half-inch plywood covered the frame. Cordelia got the crowbar behind the wood. Xander and Willow leaned on it with her. Nails screamed as they were torn from aged oak sills. The four by eight sheet of plywood twisted loose on one side. Xander drew back the sledgehammer and brought it crashing down, as the first screams became audible. The panel pinwheeled off the frame, knocking a hole in the drywall as sunlight came streaming through the dirty windows. Working on the theory that anything that interrupted light was bad, Xander used the hammer to knock the glass out of the frames. The three of them paused in a golden swirl of sunlight and dust before moving to the next window.
They had all the windows on the west clear by the time Buffy and Faith came back down the stairs. Xander made eye contact with Buffy and was rewarded with a tiny shake of her head. No Lindsay. Faith reached for the door to the basement.
"Whoa." Buffy grabbed her arm. "You're not just charging down there blind."
Faith shook loose. "Time's wasting. She's got to be down there."
"Faith, we only found four vampires upstairs. We know this guy has a pretty good posse. That's means they'll be packed into the basement like thirteen year-olds at a Hanson concert."
"Brrrr." Xander shuddered. "I hate those guys."
"Hanson or vampires?" Willow asked.
"Both."
Faith's eyes smoldered. "I'm going down there, with you or through you. Your call, B."
Buffy gripped the brunette Slayer by the shoulders. "Faith, we've got to find out what's down there."
"Uh, guys?" Willow pointed toward the door. "I think we're going to find out." The sound of feet pounding on the stairs became audible just seconds before the door crashed open, framing a lanky vamp in battle-face. Sounds of movement came from behind him. Faith reached out and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward. Buffy and Giles slammed the door closed. Xander dropped the sledgehammer and added his weight to theirs.
Faith jerked the vamp up on tiptoe. "Where is she?" she screamed, flecks of spit spraying the demon's face.
"Wh-who?" the vampire stammered.
Faith walked the vamp back until it teetered on the brink of the patch of sunlight cast by the open window. Willow and Cordelia pulled back. "One more time," Faith snarled. "Where is she?"
The vampire flailed in panic. "Who? Who are you looking for?"
"Wrong answer." A look of hatred so crazed it made Xander blanch passed across Faith's face and she thrust the creature back into the light. An unearthly shriek was torn from its throat. It began to smoke; its arms flailed like a man trying to shoo a wasp from his back. Writhing and screaming, it burst into flame an instant after Faith released her grip.
Willow fanned the air in front of her face. "Man, I hate it when they burn."
"Tell me about it." Cordelia coughed. "I'll never get the smell out of my hair."
"Guys, more pressing problems." Buffy's voice betrayed a certain amount of strain. The basement door shook under the force of heavy blows. Giles was grateful that the vampires had installed the security door; a regular wooden panel would have been in splinters by now.
"Cor, Willow, get outside." Xander leaned into the door at a forty-five degree angle. The girls hustled out the front door. Faith fell in beside Xander.
"Your turn," she said to him. "Get out."
"Normally my cowardice would produce instant obedience." Xander's voice was tight. "But what will you do?"
"Xander!" Buffy shouted over her shoulder. "Look in the bag. What do we have?"
Xander scuttled over to the Slayer bag and rummaged through it. "Stakes, cross... Holy water." He held up four bottles. "How long can you hold them?" The upper corner of the door was beginning to bend outward.
"How long do we need to?" Buffy grunted. Xander didn't reply. He gathered up the curtains torn from the window and soaked them with the sacred solution. He tossed the last empty bottle away and scooped up the sodden velvet.
"Okay," he said. "Let it go."
The Slayers and the Watcher stepped back. The door sprang open. Two vampires tried to lunge out and collided, wedging themselves in the doorway. Xander dashed forward and threw the holy water-soaked drapes over them. As the burning drapery fell over them the vamps howled and toppled backward, clearing the steps. Buffy slammed the door as Giles grabbed the bag and the four of them beat a retreat to the overgrown lawn where Willow and Cordelia waited. Buffy bent over, her hands on her knees and her breath coming in huge gulps.
"What happened?" Willow demanded in an urgent tone. "What... " Her voice faded away. Buffy looked up. She didn't need to be told that the figure just inside the door was Othniel Hampton. Everything about him looked hard and judgmental. He stared out at them from the safety of the interior gloom and spoke with a voice like a prophet bent on either saving or killing.
"Why have you come to my house?"
"Like you don't know, you sonofabitch," Faith spat.
He looked at her. "Yes, the Slayer who has dogged my heels. Where is your minder, girl?"
"You've got her, you bastard." Faith actually took a step toward the porch. "Let her go or I'll kill you."
Hampton chuckled, a sound like rubbing two sandpaper blocks together. "Perhaps it is my destiny to die at your hands, but not today. Do not blame me for misplacing your handler. After all, where were you when she was taken?" Faith screamed and lunged forward. Buffy caught her by the back of the shirt and dragged her back. Hampton looked at them with even more malevolence in his face. "I will not forget this affront." He disappeared back into the gloom.
Faith whirled to face Buffy. "Come on. We've got to go in and get her."
Buffy shook her head very slowly, never taking her eyes from Faith's. "She's not in there. You heard him."
"You're believing him? He's lying."
"Faith, you can say a lot of things about him, but scared of us isn't one of them." Buffy articulated very clearly. "If Lindsay was bait in a trap, why weren't they expecting us? She's not here."
Faith shook her head. "Then Trick's got her. We've gotta go after him."
"No. Not tonight. It'll be dark before long." Buffy nodded toward the house. "I don't think it's a good idea to be out tonight, not with them pissed at us."
Faith pulled away. "Then I'll go alone."
Giles stepped up beside Buffy. "And where will you go? I understand that you want to rush out and save her, but we must have more information. If Lindsay is bait, as Buffy said, then Trick will keep her alive to draw us to him."
"What if he doesn't?" Tears ran down Faith's face.
Giles took a deep breath. "Then I expect she's dead already and it will do no good. If we are to help Lindsay, we must prepare."
"Come on." Buffy gently took Faith's arm. "You're coming home with me. Giles will go into research mode and--"
"And I'll help." Willow's voice was firm.
Faith looked at Buffy, her eyes pleading with the blond Slayer. "I just... I can't lose her. I just can't."
Buffy wrapped her arms around the other girl. "We won't."
***
The grating of the door as it opened stirred Lindsay out of her haze. Mr. Trick filled her skewed perspective as he bent down in front of her. "Hey, how's it goin'?" he asked. He looked at her for a moment, then signaled someone with him. Lindsay heard a zipping sound as the duct tape around her left arm was sliced. Trick reached out of her field of vision; his hand returned holding a glass.
"Here," he said. "Water."
Lindsay fumbled for the glass, her left hand heavy and clumsy. Trick held it until she had a firm grip on it. She took a few sips and looked at him.
"This is a little out of character, don't you think?" Her voice was raspy and painful.
Trick frowned. "What, you think this is personal? It's not." He shrugged. "Not that I feel remorse or anything, it's not like that."
Lindsay coughed. "You're not enjoying this?"
Trick made a who-cares face. "I wouldn't say that either. It's just not about you." He stood up. Lindsay twisted her face up to see him slipping on a yellow paper smock. "Now," he said, "since that hand's already free..."