Chapter 22

The Confrontation

Sunnydale – May 24th

Bobby Phelps liked his job. There really wasn't a lot to it: stay sharp, pay attention, don't let anyone near the congressman who isn't supposed to be there. The pay was good. So what if he needed to work a lot of nights, and weekends, and holidays? It's not like he had better things to do. The congressman was nice enough, too. A real good guy, that one, Bobby would often say.

Truth be told, there wasn't all that much danger, either. Most of the psychos went after the President, or Rock Stars. A third-term congressman from California barely rated threatening letters. Most of those were of the, "You suck, why don't you just die?" variety. Occasionally, they'd even get one with all the words spelled correctly.

Tonight was just another night for Bobby Phelps. Pay attention, stay sharp. What Bobby really wanted was a chance to meet a nice girl. A pretty blonde California girl who would admire his uniform and pay rapt attention to his stories about the inner workings of government. It was his favorite daydream this week, having supplanted the one about the Porsche 911. One day, Bobby Phelps thought, one of these dreams is going to come true.

Today was Bobby's lucky day; at least he thought so. The elevator dinged once, and a pretty blonde California girl stepped half out, one arm still stuck in the elevator. She seemed to tug at it a couple of times, and then looked up at him.

"Hey, you," Buffy called. "Can you help me with this? I think it's stuck."

Bobby Phelps pointed at his chest. Me? he mouthed.

"Unless you happen to see a bell hop around here who knows how to get these stupid carts out of the elevator." She smiled her most dazzling smile on him. Bobby hitched up his gun belt and walked down the hallway to her. He never even saw her fist move; his next memory would be several hours from now, being revived by an EMT.

The first guard taken care of, Buffy put her hair back up into the black cap. "Nice job, all star," the voice spoke in her ear.

"Roger that," Buffy replied, but pantomimed sticking her finger down her throat and gagging. She really wasn't cut out for this.

Calmly, she walked down the hallway. Stopping halfway down, to where Bobby Phelps had landed, she took his gun out its holster and bent it. Better safe than sorry, she thought.  Then she moved down to the door to the congressman's room. The FedEx tube was empty now – the shotgun was in her hand. It would still prove useful, though.

She knocked on the door once, then again and called out, "Delivery. FedEx." She waited, taking on a bored expression. She suspected the other security guard was observing her through the peep hole.

Dave Buchanan got up from the chair he was sitting on and folded the paper he was reading. He always stayed right by the door, mainly to stay out of the congressman's way. Bobby was on the outside, screening folks. But Bobby's job was only to clear folks who shouldn't be there at all. Dave did the second screen to see if it was someone who needed to see the congressman at that particular time. It was a small distinction, but the older man took it very seriously.

He looked out the peep hole in the door and checked out the girl. He couldn't see Bobby, but he was probably standing just out of sight. The girl was dressed in black, with a stocking cap and a bored expression. The FedEx tube was clearly visible. Probably one of those bicycle messengers, he thought. She fit the part.

Content with his inspection, he opened the door a crack, the security chain still in place. "Let's see the paperwork," he said. Instead, he got shown the door. Buffy placed a single, powerful kick at the door. It tore the security chain out and hit Dave square and hard. He was knocked back, unconscious. Buffy stepped over the prone guard and pumped the shotgun action once. The round was loaded; she was ready.

She came around the corner into the large central area of the suite. The congressman was sitting on the couch amongst a bunch of papers. To her right, in the small kitchen area, stood Ray. The assistant looked bedraggled, desperately in need of some sleep. He's been going for over forty-eight hours, Buffy thought. She brought the shotgun up to her shoulder.

"Nobody move," she said. Congressman Greene and Ray looked cautious, but neither scared nor surprised. Buffy shifted the weapons aim from one to the other and back again.

"What are you doing?" came the voice in her ear. "The plan was enter, aim, fire. Execute that plan. Now. Fire." The voice had grown agitated, even desperate.

Buffy reached up and pulled the communicator out of her ear and crushed it in her hand, dropping the parts on the carpet. "The only reason you are still alive," she said to the congressman, "is because I trust them even less than I trust you." She took a deep breath and lowered the shotgun. "Now I have some questions; I hope you have some good answers."

* * *

"We're losing control of the situation," Johnson said to the team.

"Not to worry," Sheffield replied. He turned an eye on Madame LaFusce, who was muttering quietly.

Taking a breath, she stopped and looked up at him. "The vision is irresistible," she said. "It will take hold." In truth, she wasn't sure why the vision hadn't taken hold already, but she wasn't about to reveal that. Had she known that Buffy didn't have the amulet anymore, she would have been downright panicked. She closed her eyes and returned to her spell, reinforcing the vision that the Ring had cast.

"Major, I think we have another issue," Johnson said. Sheffield looked up to where the other soldier was pointing. "That's Harris' vehicle sir. It looks like Mr. Giles and Miss Rosenberg are getting out and heading into the hotel."

Sheffield smiled. "Well, well, well," he said quietly, "looks like a party." He laughed once, a short bark of a laugh. Then he instructed Johnson. "Quickly, call hotel security and tell them to stop those two. Then send Cook to pick up Mr. Harris."

Johnson nodded and picked up his cell phone. Out of the other vehicle, Cook emerged. He'd heard the order given over the communicator and wasn't about to wait to hear it again. He was still trying to redeem himself from the 'friendly fire' incident. Being one step ahead would help.

"All taken care of," Johnson said, putting his phone down.

"Good," said Sheffield. "All the participants in this little play are now present and accounted for."

* * *

Xander Harris backed his truck into a parking space with a good view of the main entrance. His job was to wait here, keep the truck running, and be ready to move at the first sign of trouble. He was the getaway plan. Xander liked being part of the plan, even if it wasn't a very important part. All he had to do is stay awake and pay attention. Which, given that he hadn't slept in forty-eight hours, might prove to be beyond his abilities.

He leaned over to tune the radio and then rolled down his window. "Fresh air and tunes," he said aloud, "the secret to staying awake." The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end as he felt a cold cylinder touch his ear. "A gun to the head works too," he said.

"Get out of the vehicle," a voice behind him instructed. Looking in his rearview mirror, Xander could see the armed and armored gunman half-crouching in the bed of his truck.

Not being one to argue with an armed man, Xander opened his door. His right arm was resting on the gear shift, and he still hadn't been able to find anyone to remove the handcuffs. So it was that he caught himself on the shift and, quite by accident, put the still running truck in gear.

The truck lurched forward, sending the gunman back on his heels. Xander spun and slammed on the brakes. The gunman pitched forward and slammed into the back of the cab. Rising to his knees, he pulled his rifle back into position, ready to blow Xander Harris to kingdom come.

Just then, another hand snaked out to grab the rifle barrel. Cook turned his head to see the new assailant, only to be met with the butt of a .45 to the center of the forehead. He crumpled in the bed of the truck.

"You dinna expect me to miss this, did you?" Captain MacKenzie said to the unconscious Cook. "Oh well, you just rest there, lad." He removed Cook's ski mask and took out the man's communicator, which he pitched into the shrubs. Quickly and efficiently, he stripped the man of his weapons and bound him with the same kind of cable ties that he had recently freed himself from.

He turned to see Xander staring at him. "That should hold him for a bit," he said. "Help me out here a moment, though." He picked up the Cook, tossed him over his shoulder, turned and carried him back through the parking lot. They came to a silver rental car. "Reach in there and open the trunk, aye?"

Xander followed the man's instructions, being careful not cut himself on the shattered window glass. Mac dropped the soldier into the trunk heavily, and then slammed it shut. Wiping his hands off, he smiled at Xander.

"You can call me Mac," he said. "Now, I'm not sure what the old boys are up to, but I've a feeling that it's no good. There's an old witch woman who's manipulating things, and I think maybe your friend may be over her head a bit."

"You could say that," Xander replied. "You guys have convinced her that a U.S. Congressman is really a demon, and she's up there now getting ready to make the biggest mistake of her life. And if you know some of the guys she's dated, that's saying something."

"Well," said Mac, looking around the lot. "They've not moved yet, so the deed isna done. Let's see if we can intervene, shall we?"

"Giles and Willow are already on it," Xander replied.

"I doubt that," Mac responded. "They probably had hotel security pick them up before they ever got through the lobby. Why don't we go see what we can do about that?"

Mac walked off and Xander, lacking any other ideas, followed.

* * *

Giles and Willow sat in a small room behind the main desk. It normally served as a storeroom, as near as they could tell. But for now, it was a holding cell. Giles stood by the door, listening, while Willow paced up and down. "I can get us out of here," Willow said for the fourth time in the last five minutes.

Giles held up his hand. "They're right outside, and they're armed. Even if you can open this door, we'll never be able to deal with both of them." He listened a few minutes longer. "Just let me think," he said.

"Hey, you," he heard a shout on the other side of the door. "You can't be back here!"

"Oh yeah, why don't you come and get me then?" another voice replied. Xander's voice.

"Watch them," the first voice replied, accompanied by the sounds of hurrying feet. Apparently he was off chasing Xander.

"We're down to one," Giles said. "Open the door."

Willow closed her eyes a moment and muttered an incantation under her breath. The door clicked and popped open a hair. Giles pushed it the rest of the way open and grabbed the guard standing beside it. He punched the big man, who simply grinned at him. Grabbing Giles by the front of the shirt he lifted him up and cocked his fist back. The ham-sized appendage was clearly going to knock the Englishman's lights clean out.

"Faint!" Willow said forcefully, her hand outstretched towards the guard. The word released power, and the guard crumpled to the floor. Giles, for one, was relieved. "We haven't much time," Willow said, and the two ran for the service elevators.

* * *

Buffy stood across from the congressman. Ray had joined him on the couch at her direction. "Why?" she asked.

"Why what?" the congressman replied.

The hand holding the shotgun twitched up. "Don't play stupid with me," she said. "Why are you trying to kill me? Why did you kill Spike?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the congressman replied. "What were you doing with my file?" he asked in return.

"Why were you keeping a file on me?" Buffy countered. "What did it say?"

"On you?" the congressman asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"It was filed under Slayer," Buffy countered. "I'm not Rebecca of Sunnydale Farms, you know."

"I'm not sure who you are," said the congressman. "But I do know that you are not the Slayer."

"Wanna bet on that?" Buffy replied.

* * *

Mac raced up the stairs, a .45 caliber pistol in each hand. He wasn't sure that the Harris boy was right about what was happening, but he wasn't about to risk it. He had to reach them in time; he had to stop any bloodshed. Then he had to find out why. It was more than just the honor of his unit, now. The old woman and Sheffield plotting together had stripped him of that. Now it was personal.

He raced up another flight of stairs. He had to be in time to save the congressman. Whether he did or not, he was going after Sheffield next.

* * *

Buffy and the congressman stared at one another. She looked over at the end table by the couch where her amulet lay. "Where'd you get that?" she asked, pointing at it.

"You left it in my office," the congressman replied. "Ray was kind enough to bring it up to me." He made no other move.

"Give it to me," she demanded.

"What does it do?" he asked.

"Put it on and find out," Buffy challenged.

The congressman reached over and picked it up. "Who'd you get it from?" he asked. "Did you get it from the Ring?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Buffy said. "Put it on!" she ordered, and twitched with her shotgun. Something inside her was anxious to complete her mission. She needed to complete it; and she needed to retrieve the amulet. It was like a war inside her, and he heart twisted trying to fight it.

The congressman slipped the amulet over his head. He looked over at Ray and sucked in his breath. "I can see you Ray. I can see the real you," he said, surprised.

"It shows things in their true form," Buffy said. "Now give it to me, and we'll see what it says about you."

The congressman hesitated, but a twitch of Buffy's hand made up his mind. He took the amulet off and tossed it to her. "I don't know what you're hoping to accomplish by this," he said, trying to buy time. Trying to keep her talking.

Buffy caught the amulet but didn't reply to his question. Just holding it made her feel better. It made her feel complete, like something inside of her that she had lost had come back to her. She steadied her breathing and put it on. The effect was instantaneous.

The congressman was no longer there. In his place was the demon she had seen before. The demon in her visions. But it was more than the sight of it that overwhelmed her. Waves of fear spread off of it. Waves of hate buffeted her. She gasped for breath. The emotional toll was overwhelming. It was coming for her; she knew it. It would kill her; she knew that, too.

Buffy was shaking. She'd never felt this vulnerable. She'd never felt this scared. She wanted to run; she wanted to fight. Everything was overwhelming her. She didn't know what to do, but then she felt the shotgun in her hand. It all suddenly made sense to her. Complete the mission, she thought. That will make everything okay.

"Stop," said a voice to her right. There, silhouetted in the doorway, was another figure. Someone to stop her from completing her mission. She was outflanked, and she had only a moment to decide.

Buffy lifted the shotgun and fired.