"Mom, Willow's here." The Slayer grabbed the doorknob. "We'll be back…"
Joyce shook her head, a small smile on her lips as she held her cup in both hands. "If I remember prom correctly, and I think I do, you're going to be most of the day doing hair and nails."
Buffy shrugged, her eyes shining. "I hope so." She sprinted across the lawn and piled into the Rosenberg's car.
"Hello, Buffy," Mrs. Rosenberg said.
"Oh, hi," the Slayer responded, "Thank you for the ride." She turned to Willow and held out a vinyl case. "More shades of blue nail polish than you can imagine."
Robertson put his feet up on the conference table. The soles of his shoes were scuffed and abraded; the right one had a nickel-sized hole developing in the outsole. He put his hands behind his head and uttered a sound that was half-sigh, half-grunt. "So, we're going to bust this criminal mastermind?"
Suarez ignored the joking tone. "I've asked patrols to keep an eye out to try and get some sense of her movements. It appears that she's a night owl, so we're going to take her in the middle of the afternoon, which should be the time of greatest vulnerability."
"Why don't we just knock on the door and take Jane Dillinger down?" Robertson shifted his weight slightly.
"I've studied the reports of the incidents that most likely involve her, including the one with an eyewitness. I don't know if she's a martial arts expert or what, but she seems pretty good with her hands and feet. She's also a fighter, so we're going to make our move when she's nice and sleepy. Lessens the chance of LVPD being seen using excessive force to arrest a girl who weighs, what, one-fifteen?" Suarez eyeballed Robertson. "That work for you?"
"Yeah." Robertson yawned.
"Good. A patrol unit is going to rendezvous with us onsite."
"You think that's enough firepower?" Robertson's chuckle was dry and raspy.
Suarez tapped the tabletop with a finger. "I told you, the profile I've formed is of someone who has at least some skill and is a fighter. She could also be a runner. The last thing I want is to be the guys who got outthought, outfought, or outrun by a girl."
Robertson swung his feet to the floor. "Okay, me and Arakelyan'll be here, what, three?"
Suarez scooped up a file folder. "Yup."
"Yes." Trick looked up as Delilah stepped into his office. "Good news?"
"Definitely. We have a firm window. The object will be here sometime between three and four weeks from now."
Trick nodded. "Well, I'd like that window to be a bit tighter, but beggars can't be choosers, can they?" Delilah wasn't sure how to respond to his statement, so she smiled and waited. "Call the Mayor, give him the good news, then tell him his little flunkie needs to see how our rabbi-for-hire is doing."
"See?" Willow held up her shoes. The Converse Chuck Taylors were the exact shade of sea green as her dress. She held up her other hand; the nails matched the shoes and dress.
"Couldn't be more perfect," Buffy said.
"Your hair looks really nice," Willow said. "Isn't that how you…" She clamped her mouth shut.
"What?" Buffy demanded. Willow shook her head. "Willow, do not, just do not. Say it."
Willow made a rueful face. "That's how you wore it the night you killed the Master."
"No!" Buffy held out her hand, full stop. "Don't you do that, don't you hex me."
"I was gonna shut up. You made me say it."
"Good point. Doesn't make me feel better, but, good point." Buffy looked around frantically. "I have to change my hair."
"No time," Willow said. "Prom's in, like, three hours. I'm sorry."
Buffy glared at her friend. "Willow Rosenberg, if this prom is a disaster, I'm blaming you."
"Really?"
"No. I love you. But I just had to blurt."
"Robertson, you and Arakelyan cover the southeast corner." Suarez had gathered his forces behind the single-wide trailer office of a used car lot just across the divided highway from the turned to the duo of patrol officers."You guys take the northwest corner. I think there's a good chance she'll make a break for it in that direction, so be alert. Kasabian, what are you doing?"
Kasabian pulled the toothpick out of his mouth. "I'm gonna be around the back, checking for any attempt to escape in that direction. When I hear you knock and announce, I'll make sure she don't vault the barbed wire, then come around front in case you need me."
Suarez nodded. "Let's do it." They got in their vehicles, pulled out of the used car lot, crossed the median, and pulled up in front of the Sunset. As the others deployed to their assigned slots, Suarez walked to the faded orange door. He stopped, looked around at the others, nodded, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. "Open up," he called in his most authoritative voice, "This is the Las Vegas PD", then took a step back.
The step back saved his nose. Suarez had run every scenario he could think of, but none of them began with the door exploding outward off its hinges. He raised his arms reflexively and the cheap hollow-core panel (lucky him; a solid-core door would have flattened him) bounced off his forearms. He staggered back two steps as the subject of the whole venture flew out of the room.
Snow White froze for a moment, dark hair tangled around her face, mouth open in a snarl. The girl glanced to her right, toward Robertson and Arakelyan, then pivoted and sprinted in the other direction. Suarez flung the door aside and shouted "She's headed your way." The two patrol officers moved to block her path. The big guy (looked like he ate steroids for lunch) tried to grab her arms and got kneed in the balls for his trouble. As he fell to his own knees, gasping, his partner, a wiry Hispanic man, extended his baton. Snow White leaped to the side to avoid his strike, then bounded into the air. As Suarez watched, she came down on the patrol officer's shoulders and, in one sinuous motion, locked her legs around his neck and flipped backwards, extending her palms to the ground. The officer was jerked off his feet; he landed flat on his back as Snow White released him and finished her handspring. She looked straight at Suarez, a feral glare before she turned and sprinted around the building, the north side of the building, toward the empty lots. She threw a last triumphant look over her shoulder.
And ran straight into Kasabian coming around the corner. He was a pretty big guy, and he carried a lot of his weight in his gut. Snow White hit him full tilt and bounced back, rubber-legged for a minute. She recovered quickly, but Suarez reached her and threw himself on her back. He was amazed, then scared that his weight didn't carry her to the ground. She shifted her weight and Suarez knew she was going to throw him off, but before she could do so, Robertson and Arakelyan piled on. The combined weight of three men bore her to the ground, and Kasabian managed to snap the cuffs around her wrists, although she tore a nice strip of skin off his wrist. They hustled her to the squad car, shoved her into the back seat, and slammed the door, less like conquering heroes than men glad to have a few inches of steel between them and a wild beast. Ties were askew, shirts tails flapped in the hot desert breeze, one patrol officer hobbled gingerly across the gravel, and the other was just pulling himself off the ground. Suarez took a deep breath.
"Man, I thought you were overthinking this, but, whew." Robertson wiped a hand across his sweaty brow. Suarez nodded, glanced at the car, and realized something.
"Hey," he said to Arakelyan, "go into the room and see if you can find some pants and shoes for her."
"You look beautiful," Joyce said.
Buffy bit her lip. "I don't know why I'm so excited, but I am. My stomach's doing ollies."
"And that is?"
"Oh, sorry, skateboard lingo. Xander uses it sometimes." The Summers women stood on the porch of their home, keeping watch on the street. Xander was due to arrive any moment.
"Be as excited as you want." Joyce blinked rapidly. "Just be a normal, happy, silly girl for one night." The Slayer gasped and Joyce frowned, then turned her head to follow her daughter's gaze. As Buffy and her mother stared in fascination and awe, a jade-green behemoth oozed down Revello and eased to a stop at the curb in front of 1630. The 500 cubic-inch V8 rumbled for a moment, then cut off abruptly. Xander sat behind the wheel. He wore a glittery jacket that matched the car. Buffy lifted the skirt of her dress and hurried down the steps.
"Xander," Buffy said, "what is that?"
He grabbed the edge of the windshield and raised himself halfway out of the seat. "This is a 1975 Cadillac Eldorado."
"It's a convertible."
"Yeah," he said, beaming.
"A convertible! To prom… with my hair done." Buffy glared at him.
Xander's smile shrank and he visibly swallowed. "I, uh, I thought it would be cool."
"I don't… I don't even…" Buffy sputtered.
"Honey, go get in the car. I'll be right back." Joyce patted the Slayer's arm and went into the house. Buffy stomped down the sidewalk as Xander recovered enough presence of mind to hurry around and open the door. Buffy got into the passenger seat and gathered her dress around her, fixing him with an icy glare. "Don't you dare close that door on my dress," she said. Xander nodded and scratched the back of his head, then quickly went to the driver's seat. As he got in, Joyce hurried down the sidewalk, a wisp of fabric in her hand.
"Here," she said, "let me." She bent down and quickly tied the scarf around her daughter's head. "There, I didn't tie it too tight, so it won't mess up your hair, and after prom's over, who cares?" She stood up straight.
Buffy let out a great sigh. "Thanks, Mom."
Joyce shook her head, then fixed Xander with a gimlet stare and a wide smile. "Now, Xander, this is very unique, and we appreciate the gesture, but you are going to drive very slowly and carefully on side streets, because if my daughter arrives at her senior prom with bad hair, well, let's just say that if prom is ruined, the vengeance I will seek will make the Slayer look like Pippi Longstocking." Joyce patted the sill of the passenger door. "You guys have a wonderful time." She waved and went back into the house. Xander put the Cadillac in gear and very slowly pulled away from the curb.
"Relax," Buffy said. "She was exaggerating. I think."
Faith reared back and kicked at the metal mesh with her bare feet hard enough to rattle the cruiser. Kasabian sighed and rubbed his face with one meaty paw. "I swear to God, if she does that again, I'm gonna tase her right here."
"Gimme a minute," Suarez said. He held up the jeans Arakelyan had found in the cheap motel, then raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question. Faith glared through the window, but eventually scootched away toward the middle of the seat. Suarez motioned for Kasabian to stand behind him, then opened the door, making sure his full body weight was behind the panel. "Okay," he said, "you can calm down and I'll throw these in, or you keep this up and we take you in and process you as you are. Your call." He stared at her.
Faith panted as she returned the stare. "How am I supposed to put them on when I'm cuffed?" she said.
"Here's what's gonna happen," Suarez said. "I'm gonna toss in your pants, then I'm gonna get in the front of the cruiser. You back up to the screen, I'll unlock one cuff, you get dressed, then we'll figure it out."
"What about my shoes?"
"I think we'll hold off on those until we get to the station house. We have a deal?"
Faith's eyes narrowed, then she nodded. Suarez tossed in the jeans and slammed the door, then crawled into the passenger side of the cruiser. Faith turned around awkwardly and pressed her hands against the steel mesh.
"You're really going all-out to catch one girl," she snapped as Suarez fitted the key into the cuff.
"Yeah, well, based on your little floor show here, I'm feeling like that was the right call," Suarez said. "Besides, you've punched out a lot of guys way bigger than you."
Faith flopped onto the vinyl seat and began tugging on her jeans. "Ever wonder why I kicked the crap out of 'em? Or why I was with 'em? Ask any of 'em why they were so hot to screw a minor?"
Suarez nodded. "Yeah, you're a victim of life's circumstances. Don't waste your story on me. You'll have plenty of people to tell it to." Faith glared at him. Suarez motioned toward the screen. "Here we go. Turn around. Kasabian?"
"Yeah?" Kasabian leaned down to look inside the cruiser. Faith had her back to the barrier.
"Gimme your cuffs. Just do it." Suarez snapped one of Kasabian's cuffs to the metal mesh, then the other end to Faith's arm above the restraint she already wore. "Now," Suarez said, "bring 'em together." Faith brought her free wrist around and Suarez managed, with some difficulty, to fasten his cuff around it. Then he unlocked Kasabian's cuff from her arm and the barrier. By the time he finished, he was sweating profusely in the heat.
"Ha," Faith scoffed. "Almost looks like you've been working."
Suarez ignored her and turned to the two patrol officers. "We'll meet you at the station. Drive careful and keep an eye on her."
"We will." The guy who'd been kicked in the balls seemed to mean it.
"I'm serious," Suarez said. He shook his head. "I don't think we've got her completely under control even now."
Matti stood in the middle of her living room, the red dress topped with a black wrap that matched her clutch. "You ready to go?" she said as she tapped one foot on the floor. "I only got so much time in these heels, so every second counts.
The door to the guest room opened and Cordelia stepped into the living room, her hair in a French twist with a low ponytail and her nails immaculately polished to match her dress. She seemed a little stunned.
"You look very nice," Matti said.
"So do you," Cordelia replied.
"Well, thankya ma'am. Don't sound so surprised." Matti rolled her eyes. "I don't wear sweatsocks all the time, you know." She nodded toward the door. "Let's go."
Faith struggled, but the handcuffs and the officer on each arm kept her from obtaining any leverage. She was hauled to the processing area and shackled to a chair. The detective, Suarez, the one who might have been halfway good-looking, stood looking over her. She gave him a savage smile. "Like what you see?" she taunted.
He shook his head. "I'm just tired."
A stout female officer sat down at the desk. "New friend?" she asked.
Suarez nodded. "Let's get her processed. Let me know when you're done." He rapped his knuckles on the desk and walked away.
"Okay," the officer said, turning to her square beige monitor, "name?"
"Fuck you," Faith snarled.
"Funny, you don't look Asian." The officer sighed. "Okay, we'll do it the hard way." She two-fingered the keyboard. "Jane Doe, at least until they find some ID. Female…" She looked at Faith. "Eighteen to twenty-four.
Matti pulled into the parking lot and killed the 4Runner's engine. She gathered the folds of her dress over one arm and grasped her clutch firmly in one hand. She looked over at Cordelia. The girl sat in the passenger seat, hands folded in her lap, head down. "Cordelia," Matti said, "we're here."
There was a heartbeat's pause, then Cordelia's head came up. She stared through the windshield toward the brightly-lit gym. "I always thought I would come to prom in a limo… I would have the prettiest dress, and the best-looking boy in school would be my date." She looked at Matti. "Not that there's anything wrong with the dress…"
"It's all right," Matti said. "Listen, I know this is not what you expected or wanted, but, if it matters, I don't think that the old Cordelia Chase would have been strong enough to do this. I certainly wouldn't have found her in my basement holding off her friends with a stick." The teacher smiled.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "She didn't have to be. Well, we should go in before anybody wonders why we're sitting here so long."
Matti looked over the top of the vehicle. "Child, try to have some fun."
Xander closed the car door, still a bit shaky after the drive. Buffy undid her scarf. "How does my hair look?" she asked.
"After what your mom said, do you think I'd say anything besides 'great'?" His eyes darted back and forth. "But it looks pretty much exactly the way it did before."
"Good." She eyeballed his outfit. "Are those sequins on the jacket?"
"Yup. Pretty Duckie look, don't you think?"
The Slayer snapped her fingers. "And with the hair… I see it, yeah. Nice effort. Very subtle."
He held out his right elbow. "Shall we?"
Buffy took the proffered arm and smiled warmly. "We shall." They walked through the gym doors and eyed the mishmash of decorations, the excessive number of streamers, and the three disco balls. 'Mr. Sandman' by the Chordettes drifted through the air. "Wow, it really is hideous in here," Buffy said.
"I suppose we should be relieved that Harmony didn't confuse 'Mr. Sandman' with 'Enter Sandman'," Xander said. His hands jiggled inside his pockets. "It's so… it's like she just threw everything prom-related she could think of against a wall of glue."
"It's almost a thing," Buffy said. "Like that one painter, the Russian guy…" She snapped her fingers. "Kandinsky."
"Gesundheit," Xander said. He straightened his lapels. "Ready?"
The Slayer grinned. "Let's have some fun."
"How you wanna handle this?" Officer Shonda Wilson stood in the doorway of the conference room. Suarez looked up from box he was packing.
"What?"
Wilson shrugged. "She's got no ID, nobody found any in that room, she claims she's a minor… which I believe. Even if I didn't, I wouldn't want to be responsible for even the possibility of putting a minor in gen pop. So, what do you wanna do?"
Suarez scratched at his jaw; it had been a long day and he was getting pretty stubbly. "Well, we didn't find any ID, but we did find a bag fulla weird shit like wooden stakes and knives." He looked at Wilson. "Let's make sure she's in isolation tonight and put a red ball on her transfer to Clark County."
"Isolation?" Wilson's eyes widened in disbelief.
Suarez shook his head. "You don't want to be responsible for putting a minor in gen pop, and I don't want to be responsible for her killing whoever's in a cell with her. Isolation it is for Snow White.
The crowd at the SHS prom milled around the gym, roughly one-third to one-half of the attendees on the dance floor, the remainder talking and eating. Buffy and Xander finished their first dance and left the floor. As they reached the invisible line of demarcation, Xander stopped and stared. "Whoa, look at that." He blinked twice and grinned.
Oz and Willow stood arm-in-arm. The toes of Willow's perfectly dyed Converse peeked out from under the flared skirt of her dress. Oz's Converse were black, as was his tux, but his bow tie and vest matched Willow's dress.
Buffy's lips formed the tiniest of 'O's. "Look at you guys. Very chic."
Willow giggled. "You look great, too." They hugged while Xander and Oz shuffled their feet.
"So," Xander said at last, "is that a clip-on?" He pointed at Oz's tie.
"No, it's real. I learned how to tie it so I can do the Rat Pack untied look during our set."
Xander's head bobbed. "I bow to your commitment to your art."
Willow nudged Buffy. "Have you noticed that?" The Slayer followed the direction of her friend's gaze. Cordelia stood ramrod-straight at the edge of the dance floor. "Do you think we should go over and say something?" Willow bit her lip.
"Don't do that," Buffy said. "You'll get lipstick on your teeth. No, my gut says that's not what's needed here and now."
"I swear, they're just going to play the whole CD straight through." Xander shook his head as 'Back in Time' pumped through the speakers.
"Yeah, sure." Buffy turned toward him and stared; it was all she could do to keep her mouth from dropping open. Trey Garcia had entered wearing a gold lame tuxedo jacket with matching shoes. The rest of the outfit was pretty standard: black pants, white shirt, black bow tie and cummerbund. But the hair–
The sides were slicked back and the top had been gelled into a tall crest that swept back from his forehead in a dizzying pompadour. He'd pulled the back into a long twist that hung over the collar of his coat. As if he felt the weight of her gaze, he turned, and their eyes met. A huge, crooked grin split his face and he ambled over. "Hey," he said, "nice dress."
Buffy swept a hand from top to bottom. "Well, you certainly have a… look."
"Yeah," he said, "jacket by Elvis, hair by mid-period Link Wray. The shoes were the hard part. I dyed a pair of my dad's old Florsheim's."
"It was nice of him to… let you do that," the Slayer stammered, suppressing a giggle.
"Oh, when he finds out he'll be pissed… Sorry, about the language, I got a little carried away."
"It's perfectly all right." Buffy's cheeks practically ached from the size of her smile. "So, you dyed your shoes… Willow did that."
"I know." He nodded at the redhead. "They look so awesome, I mean, they match your dress exactly."
"Thank you," Willow said, beaming. "I did a lot of research… and a couple of test runs."
The Slayer nodded. "That's the Willow we know and love. If she's gonna do it, she'll do it right."
"Hey, awesome jacket." Trey tapped Xander's sequin-clad arm. "It matches that '75 Eldo outside… is that your ride?"
"It is." A smile split Xander's face. "Borrowed it from my uncle."
"Sweet. That's doing it right." He turned to Oz. "I'm gonna go set up my rig, I mean, don't want any last minute surprises tonight."
"Sure," Oz said. "I'll be there in a minute. Madam?" He offered his arm to Willow, who took it, and they moved onto the dance floor.
Trey held up one large hand. "Hey, sorry to run, but, uh, see you around, after our set, if not before." He grinned again and headed toward the stage area.
"That is a nice guy," Xander said.
"He really is," Buffy replied.
"But not for you."
"No, not for me." She shook her head and looked at Xander. "Besides, he's going on the road, too. He's gonna be a rock star." Her eyes widened. "Wait here. I'll be right back." She hurried across the floor to the strains of Huey Lewis and the News and caught Trey.
"Hey," she said, "how long will your set-up take?"
"Not long. I'm really just checking connections."
"Could you spare me, like, two minutes before you do?"
Trey shrugged. "Sure, I guess. What do you need?"
Buffy licked her lips. "I need you to ask Cordelia to dance."
Trey made a weird face. "I don't really… I mean, I don't know her, I wouldn't wanna be creepy."
Buffy shook her head. "You won't be… but, she's had a rough year, and she just needs someone to get her on the floor and she'll be okay. Just do your 'aw-shucks' charming thing and ask her to dance. Please?"
Trey's hand went up, then stopped. "Whoa. Almost ruined the hair there. Okay, I'll ask her to dance, but if she says 'no', I'm headed for my pedalboard, okay?"
"Sure, great, whatever… and Trey?"
He looked over his shoulder at her. "Yeah."
"Thanks. You're a good guy."
He winked. "I try… but you're a pretty easy person to be good for." He walked away, his jacket shimmering gold in the refracted spotlights. Buffy moved back around the gym, watching. She realized that she was wringing her hands and forced herself to stop. Cordelia stood watching the dance floor, swaying slightly to the music. As the song stopped, Trey stepped up to her side. His back was to Buffy, but she could see Cordelia's face. Trey leaned forward and said something. Cordelia looked skeptical, but then Buffy saw him dip down and say something else. Cordelia snicker-snorted and rolled her eyes, then took the hand Trey extended to her. As they stepped onto the dance floor, 'Johnny B. Goode' blasted out of the speakers, and Trey's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Buffy clenched her fists and bounced on her toes in triumph, then looked over the dancers. She was sure she had seen… There he was, Larry dancing like a literal fool. The Slayer moved around until she was in his eye line, then waved. The motion caught Larry's eye, and Buffy jerked her head toward Cordelia. Larry frowned and shrugged. Buffy jerked her head, harder. Larry finally got the message and looked in the indicated direction. Still dancing (although his rhythm suffered), he shook his head and shrugged. Buffy jerked her head again and held her right hand formed into a 'C' by her hip. Larry's forehead wrinkled, he looked again, then looked back at the Slayer, comprehension finally breaking on his face. He nodded and smiled.
"Whew, that was tougher than it should have been." Buffy worked her way back around to Xander. "Hey," she said, "sorry I was gone. Ready to dance some more?'
"Sure," Xander said. "I didn't rent this jacket to just stand around and look pretty."
As the strains of Cher's 'Believe' faded, Buffy and Xander headed off the dance floor. The Slayer felt flushed, but in a good way. As they neared the edge of the floor, and 'Doo Wop (That Thing)' began, Trey swooped into her eye line.
"Hey," he said, "can I take this one?"
Buffy gave him a sly look. "Sure." She looked around him at Xander. "I'm gonna…" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. Xander nodded and waved. The Slayer pivoted and made it back to the dance floor just as the hook dropped. She almost laughed aloud; Trey was a good dancer, but he was very… enthusiastic, in marked contrast to many of the couples trying to look smooth. Buffy decided that the best choice was to just slow-groove it and let him express himself.
"Hey," she said, leaning close to be heard over the music, "thanks for dancing with Cordelia."
"What? Oh, you're welcome, really, no problem. It was nice… she's a good dancer." Trey punctuated his judgment with a spin.
"Yes, she is." Buffy giggled. The song ended and Trey blew out his breath.
"Well, that was fun," he said, "but I gotta get to the stage. We're on after this song." Buffy nodded and he loped off. She looked around, hoping to spot Cordelia. Instead, her eyes fell on Matti Hollis dancing with Mr. Miller… or rather, Matti danced while Mr. Miller looked slightly stunned. Buffy blinked, nonplussed. She pivoted away, quick-stepped off the dance floor, and went to Xander's side. He raised his eyebrows at her.
"Did you see Ms. Hollis?" Buffy asked.
"Did I see her? I think every guy in the school has seen her. Look around."
The Slayer scanned the crowd and realized that, yes, a sizeable percentage of the male portion of the student body did seem to be aware of Ms. Hollis's moves. "You don't seem to be mesmerized."
"True, but… she actually threatened my life in her basement. That takes away a lot of the mystique."
"Hey, we're happy and honored to play here at prom." Devon grabbed the mic stand and began to, as he phrased it, 'work the stage'. "Normally, we do a lot of originals, but tonight, one night only, Dingoes covers songs of love. Gentlemen." He waved a hand and the band crashed into 'Just Like Heaven'.
Coyne scratched his cheek with the remaining finger of his mutilated hand. "I think we can take him any time we want. Trick has people watching him, but we've kept out of sight, and our guys say that they're loose and sloppy.' He grinned and the scar on his face twisted one eye nearly shut. "Give the word and he's ours."
The Reverend looked up at his lieutenant. "Good. Wait." He smiled, and his wandering eye seemed to be looking into another world. "When it arrives, we take him. Let that fool feel the pain of seeing everything he desires slip through his fingers like sand."
As the applause for 'Come Dancing' dwindled, Trey put his guitar on its stand and reached behind his amp. Oz replaced the Telecaster with his old Guild acoustic as Doug and Geoff watched and waited. Trey finally turned back to the audience.
"Oh my god," Willow said.
Buffy did a double-take. "Is that an accordion?"
It was indeed an old mother-of-pearl Hohner piano accordion. Trey settled the instrument on his chest as Devon stepped up to the mic. "This is an oldie for all the lovers in the building. Hope it doesn't get any of the teachers too turned on." He cleared his throat as the joke landed with a thud. Trey and Oz exchanged exasperated head shakes, then Oz nodded to Geoff. As the drummer played a simple pattern on his high-hat, Oz picked an arpeggiated chord pattern. Trey bit his lip and began to play. The accordion moaned and cried over the audience. Devon grabbed the mic.
"Oh, wow," Buffy breathed. "I recognize this song."
Devon licked his lips and began to sing.
"Wise men say, only fools rush in,
But I can't help falling in love with you.
Shall I stay? Would it be a sin
If I can't help falling in love with you."
The gym was hushed. Doug played a simple quarter-note line to Geoff's cymbal pattern as the accordion and acoustic carried the music. Trey's long fingers caressed the keys, a melody that tugged the heartstrings more than the vocal, and under it chimed Oz's simple, clear steel-string figure. By the time they finished, prom had fallen as silent as a church service. As the final strains faded away, tears were carefully dabbed away to preserve makeup and sniffles could be heard echoing in the silence. Trey exchanged the accordion for his Strat as Oz grabbed his Tele.
"Let's get back to party velocity," Devon yelped as Geoff gave four stick hits and the guitars broke into a bright, jangling I-IV figure. Devon wrenched the mic out of the stand and lunged to the front of the stage.
"I can't stand to see you sad,
I can't bear to hear you cry.
If you can't tell me what you need,
All I can do is wonder why.
Someday, someway, ahhh-ahhh
Someday, someway, yeah, yeah,
Someday, somewayyyyyy-hey,
Maybe I'll understand you."
The crowd began to sway and then dance. Buffy looked over at Willow, who made no move toward the dance floor, but stood with her hands over her mouth and nose, tears glistening in her eyes. The Slayer turned away; some moments were too private to share with even your best friend.
Xander took a deep breath and ran a hand along the side of his head. "Wish me luck," he said. "I'm going in."
Buffy's eyes widened in alarm. "Xander, no, don't… I mean, I don't think,,,"
"Relax," Xander said, looking down into her eyes. "I'm not going to do anything stupid… I think… but sometimes… sometimes you gotta crawl before you can walk. And I really deserve to crawl." He hitched his shoulders inside his tuxedo and walked around the perimeter of the crowd. Buffy offered a mock salute as he ambled away.
Cordelia saw him headed her way and made a very obvious point of focusing on the dance floor. Xander stopped beside her, hands in his pockets. He ducked his head. "Hey," he said, his voice rushed and breathy. Cordelia swayed to the music, watching the dancers. Xander coughed. "Hey," he said again. No response. "I'm not going anywhere, so we can stand here like this all night, or we can get it over with."
She turned slowly and looked at him, her eyes glittering. "What?"
"I.. I… I…" Xander stammered.
"Are you stuck?" she said. "I'll be glad to hit you on the side of the head."
"I probably deserve it." Xander winced and twisted his neck. "I thought about this a lot… I practiced it."
"Practiced what?" Cordelia's hands fluttered at her sides, then dropped down. "Oh, wait… is this the scene where the boy, that's you, makes a shallow apology, then the girl, which would be me, cries, and he gets to walk away feeling like a hero? Hmmm?"
Xander shook his head. "No. I mean… it's not a shallow apology… and there's no way for me to feel like anything besides a heel." He shook his head. "I can't take back anything I did… I wish I could, but I can't… but… I'm sorry, really sorry."
"Why?" Cordelia looked back out at the dance floor, but her attention was still directed toward him. "Why are you sorry?" She turned her eyes back to him, staring him full in the face.
Xander swallowed. "Because… because I was wrong."
"And now you want to be right?"
He shrugged. "I can't do that. I did what I did… and I don't just mean… y'know… before that, I… I didn't do right, I was selfish, I didn't… I didn't think about you the right way…" His voice trailed away.
Her entire body stiffened. "What does that mean?"
He licked his dry lips. "I don't know. I really don't know, but I do know that I did a lot of things wrong, and I wish I hadn't and I wish I could fix it, but I can't, so all I can do is say… I'm sorry. For what happened to you, and for what I did to you." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away, shoulders slumping.
"Xander."
He turned back. Cordelia's jaw jutted toward him, her arms folded. Shards of light from one of the disco balls played across her dress and over her face, rendering her expression inscrutable.
"I didn't trust you. I never told you what was going on." Her expression clenched, then relaxed. "I can't take that back, either, so… thank you for apologizing."
His head dipped. "Okay." He turned away, head still down.
"What was that?" Buffy asked when he arrived back at her side.
"I think that was an important step in becoming an adult," Xander replied. "And it sucked hard."
Buffy wracked her brain, trying to remember the identity of her dance partner. Apparently, they had shared a geometry class together, but she couldn't recall him for the life of her. Still, it was an uptempo song (therefore no body contact) and he wasn't a bad dancer, so...
As her hips and shoulders moved to the music, Buffy looked over the crowd and saw Cordelia dancing, her head thrown back. The Slayer realized that it was the first true smile she's seen on Cordelia's face in a long, long time.
Principal Snyder climbed up on the stage and reached up to take the mic from the stand. He winced as a sharp squeal of feedback bit through the air. It turned out to be an effective attention-getter; as the shriek faded, every eye in the house was on him. "This is a unique year," he said. "Due to... circumstances, we have only two candidates for prom queen this year. If Harmony Kendall and Fallon Cunningham would make their way to the stage." Snyder stood there awkwardly as the two girls mounted the steps. As Buffy watched the scene unfold, she realized that she now knew what fait accompli meant. Oh, Mr. Davis, she thought, if only this had happened before English III. Fallon didn't even bother to step up to the same line as Harmony. Principal Snyder scratched one ear, then looked at the index card he'd been handed. "The, uh, the 1999 Sunnydale High Prom Queen is Harmony Kendall."
The round of applause that followed was less than enthusiastic; it would have been flattering to call it tepid, but Harmony didn't notice. She bowed her head for the proffered plastic crown, accepted the flowers, and beamed and waved. As the new queen continued to prolong the moment, Buffy glanced over at Cordelia. The only way the cheerleader's spine could have been straighter was if someone had taped a yardstick to it. As the Slayer watched, one of the cheerleaders, Andrea, walked past Cordelia and said something. Cordelia nodded in return and the other girl passed by. Buffy shook her head and, almost in spite of herself, drifted toward the erstwhile Queen C.
"Well," the Slayer said, "that was the definition of an anticlimax." Cordelia said nothing. Buffy tried again. "Your dress looks nice."
"Thank you." Cordelia's tone was carefully neutral.
"I'm sorry about this," the Slayer said, a quick hand wave encompassing the entire scene.
"What?" Cordelia half-turned toward her.
"I know prom queen was important to you. I'm sorry that you never got a chance to win. I'm even sorrier that Harmony did win."
"Buffy." Cordelia sighed heavily. "This year… my parents are dead… my life turned out to be a lie, my future… What future? If this year's shown me anything, it's that this–" she waved a hand to encompass the dance floor "-means absolutely nothing."
The Slayer nodded. "You're right, but… if it wasn't for you, this would all be gone, maybe everybody in here dead–" she shrugged "-I don't know, seems like Harmony owes you one for letting her be queen." Cordelia cast a sidelong glance; Buffy nodded and turned to go.
"Buffy." Cordelia licked her lips. "That was really lame. Thank you."
The van stopped in the Rosenberg driveway. Oz got out and offered Willow his arm, and they walked under the trees to the porch, where they stood facing each other in the pool of light, the moment about to burst, neither one wanting to be the one to wield the pin.
Willow looked down and cleared her throat. "You guys sounded good tonight, but a... a couple of the songs were a little... on the nose."
"Well," Oz said, "rock'n'roll's not about subtlety."
Willow looked up at Oz and her eyes glistened. "I, I had a really nice time," she said, her voice cracking.
Oz bit his lip. "Me, too. You know, if I could give this up for anyone, it would be you."
"But you can't…" It was half question, half statement.
Oz shook his head. "I can't."
"You could have told me." Willow's voice was shaky.
"I know." Oz looked away. "And I didn't… and that was bad… not the choice… but... I was selfish… and scared… and I'm sorry about that… but the choice would still be the same."
Willow nodded and took a deep breath. "So, now we go our separate ways."
Oz's eyes widened slightly. "What?"
"No, you dummy, not like that… God, no, how would that even work, I mean, how could we even do that? You can't just drop out of the Scooby Gang."
"Yeah, it seemed a bit extreme."
Willow smiled and a tear broke free to trace a path down her face. "When I found out… when you… dropped that bomb… you said you'd never done things because you were 'supposed' to… and I realized that… I kinda had. And I was hurt, and mad… really mad… but maybe at myself, as much as you… you're a great guy, but you're my first guy, and I already had us spending our lives together."
"That is burying the needle." A small smile touched Oz's lips.
Willow's eyes squeezed shut and she sighed. "I was mad, and I made a choice, I guess in an 'I'll show him' way, but now that I'm not mad, I'm staying with it." Oz looked confused. "I'm not going to CalTech," Willow said.
Oz pulled back. "No CalTech… are you going to UCS?"
Willow shook her head and her smile shone more brightly than her tears. "No. I'm going to MIT. I'm taking a big step, and… I kinda want to thank you, because I wouldn't have done it otherwise."
Oz ducked his head. "I do love you, you know."
Willow nodded. "I do, and I love you… just not in the forever way, I guess."
"I guess. Hey, nothing that happened… I wasn't trying to manipulate you… or lying–"
"I know." Willow scrunched her nose. "Don't feel bad. I was a willing participant. I don't regret anything." She tipped her head toward him. "Anything."
"Well, that's a relief." Oz was quiet for a moment. "So, what are we now?"
Willow shrugged. "A little older, a little wiser… I don't know."
"Friends?" Oz suggested.
"Now, I'm disappointed," Willow said. "That's pretty cliche."
"Yeah, you're right. I was grasping." He held her hand lightly. "See you at school on Monday?"
Willow nodded, eyes sparkling. "You know it."
"Whew." Matti stopped inside the door and shucked off her heels. "My feet are killing me." She picked up the shoes and carried them to the armchair, where she dropped the footwear to the floor as she collapsed into the cushion. "Well, that's over. How d'you feel?"
Cordelia walked to the sofa, head down, and sat. "I kept watching everybody, and I tried to remember why I thought this was so important… and I couldn't." She clasped her hands in her lap and looked at Matti. "I thought Harmony being crowned queen would kill me, but I didn't feel anything. Not a thing."
"Huh." Matti looked at her toes as she flexed her feet. "So prom was just a big zero?"
"No, I mean, I had fun. It was a nice time, I liked dancing, but it was… it so didn't matter. None of it." She bowed her head again.
Matti nodded her head. "So, you enjoyed it for the thing itself."
Cordelia looked up, a questioning look on her face. "Yeah, just... after Harmony got crowned, Andrea walked by, and she just said, 'Sorry'... that's all, 'Sorry', but... that kinda mattered."
Matti nodded, then stood up. "Stay there," she said as she scooped up her shoes and went into the bedroom. She was gone for a few minutes, then came back holding a thick cream-colored envelope. "You, uh, you haven't gotten a lot of good news lately, so… here." She tossed the package into the girl's lap. "Open it."
Cordelia shot the teacher a quizzical look, then used one of her immaculately lacquered nails to slit the flap. A sheet of thick bond paper fell out. Cordelia frowned and picked it up. She began reading, and her expression grew more confused. She looked up at Matti. "What…?"
Matti Hollis shrugged. "Oh, I called in some favors, sent out some tape of the halftime shows, made some phone calls."
"But… what does this mean?" Cordelia tapped the thick, creamy paper with one shiny purple nail.
"It means," said Matti, "that, if you want to, this fall you will be cheering for the Wainwright University Blue Wave."
Cordelia sat there, face frozen. "Wainwright…? I don't…"
"It's not 'SC or UCLA… or some of the other schools you applied to, but it is in Los Angeles. It's a good school, not very big, around sixty-five hundred undergrads, I think. They're a D-III school, so you'll probably have to cheer for football and basketball, but I figure you're used to that."
Cordelia held up the letter, an annoyed look on her face. "Were you holding this just so you could have a dramatic moment?"
Faith lay on her back on the thin mattress that covered the steel frame bolted to the wall. She concentrated on breathing slowly, but it was a struggle. The panic kept welling up from deep within her, the feeling of being trapped like a rat in a cage, The sounds of the jail pressed in on her: soft weeping, screams (even after lights out), the countless moans and cracks and pops of a building this size. The dim constant light only made the gloom above her seem more dense. She turned onto her side, but the real darkness did not abate.
Willow spat into the sink and swished some more water around her mouth. She expelled that, then wiped her mouth on the towel. She looked at her reflection, trying to see if the girl in the mirror looked any different than she had a few hours ago, if her experiences were already written on her face. She looked into her reflection's eyes and on impulse…
Slipped into the Never Never. The bathroom was a fun place to do it; mirrors were a hoot in that weird liminal space she had discovered… but something was off. She waited for a moment, trying to understand, then realized that it was the light.
There were no shadows in the Never Never. Light did not seem to come from a source; it was just there, but now… Willow could sense light seeping in from the left edge of her vision, not bright and bold, but like golden hour before the sun clears the horizon. Intrigued, she turned her head…
And thumped down flat on her back on the bathroom floor. She scrambled to her feet, put away her toothbrush, and went to bed, but it took a while for sleep to come.
THE END
THE REAL McCOY
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