Chapter 23

The Escape

Sunnydale – May 24th

Had it been anyone else in the doorway, the congressman would've been dead. But gifted with incredible speed as part of his eternal curse, the vampire Spike moved like lightning. As the Slayer lifted the weapon, Spike streaked down the short hall into the main room of the suite. His momentum, combined with an outstretched hand, knocked Buffy's aim aside. The half-risen congressman saw the projectile race just to his right and embed itself in the wall.

Had the weapon been a normal shotgun, even the deflected aim would have been enough to injure the congressman terminally. But instead of a spreading plume of pellets, the gun fired stakes: wooden stakes at high velocity. Buffy saw this – saw the stake embedded in the wall – and realized in a flash who it was that had actually killed Spike.

"No way, pet," Spike said next to her, glorying in his ferocity, "this bugger is mine!" He cocked his arm back and backhanded the congressman, sending him sailing through the air to his left, nearly to the kitchenette.

The effect on Spike was nearly as impressive. Pain surged through his brain like a hot poker being driven by a freight train. His hands grasped his skull and his back arched violently. He was thrown bodily to the floor by his own anguish, writhing in pain.

Buffy looked at the scene before her as if in a dream. The congressman was lying unconscious ten feet away, felled by a single blow from the vampire. But that didn't jive with what she knew about the demon, whom she still saw and felt. Next to her, Spike writhed in pain. It was the pain that could only be brought on if he attacked a human. But the only one he had attacked was the congressman. And in her hands was a weapon unlike any other; a weapon that had been used to supposedly hunt and kill Spike, who, as it turns out, was very much alive.

"Nobody move, not even a wee twitch," said a new voice in the room. It belonged to the Scottish soldier, MacKenzie. Buffy immediately brought the shotgun up in response.

"You!" she shouted. "You were behind this!" She carefully took aim at the man, just as he pointed his pistol in her direction.

"Mexican standoff," he said. "We're both dead if you don't put that down."

Buffy didn't flinch. "I like my odds better than yours," she said. "Gamble much?"

"More than you do, I think," he replied, but didn't waver.

Giles and Willow came rushing into the room. "Buffy, don't!" Willow called.

"It's the amulet," Giles said, his chest heaving for breath. "Take it off. Destroy it."

Buffy didn't move. To touch the amulet would require releasing hold on her weapon, and she knew she couldn't trust the commandos. "Not until he puts his gun down," she called.

"Do it," Giles said to MacKenzie. "Trust her," he added.

Slowly MacKenzie brought his weapon down, and laid it on the coffee table.

Buffy slowly lowered he weapon, and then reached up to grasp the amulet. Her fingers clenched around it, indecision riddling her thoughts. "Buffy, please," Willow pleaded, desperation in her eyes.

Buffy wasn't sure of many things, but she knew she could trust Giles and Willow. With determination, fighting against her own thoughts screaming at her, she yanked the amulet, snapping the lanyard. Taking a deep breath, resisting all the thoughts rushing through her head, she crushed it.

Suddenly, all of the bindings between her and the amulet were ruptured. The spells that it was endowed with were disrupted. More importantly, the spells that Madame LaFusce had cast over Buffy, spells cast while she was sedated in order to create a deep need to trust its vision, were torn away. Like tendrils being pulled directly from her soul, Buffy felt a thousand pinpricks of pain. In a wordless cry, she, too collapsed.

Ray peeked his head up from behind an end table. "Well ain't that a kick in the pants?"

* * *

Madame LaFusce gasped. The spells were broken. They'd lost control. "Major," she said, he heart palpitating furiously, "send in the men." Sheffield quickly issued a series of orders. Madame LaFusce took a steadying breath. "We must stop them from escaping," she said. Sheffield understood.

* * *

In the tenth floor suite, the three unconscious combatants were being revived. Buffy and Spike woke with smelling salts, at once ready to fight. But gentle words from Giles and Willow calmed them down. The congressman was more difficult to wake, being merely human. But between the first aid kit in the room and a muttered spell from Willow, he finally achieved conciousness.

"Here's the situation as I see it," Giles said. "We've all been played as pawns by Madame LaFusce, and she currently has an SAS commando team at her disposal. Minus one, that is," he added, pointing to Mac.

"Minus two," Mac replied. "Wee Cook is enjoying the trunk of a rental car."

"We're going to need to get out of here," Buffy said. "I'm pretty sure that Madame LaFusce knows that her plan had failed." She paused a moment. "What was her plan, anyway?"

"She wanted you to kill the congressman," Willow supplied hurriedly, "because he's a good guy who's working to make peace between humans and friendly demons. Only, she thinks all demons are evil, and she used the amulet to make you see him as a demon, so you'd do her dirty work for her." She smiled. "But she didn't count on us."

"What I don't understand," the congressman said groggily, "is why she chose you, and why you'd kill me just because you thought I was a demon."

"Like I told you," said Buffy, "I'm the Slayer." The congressman looked up frowning.

"I can assure you that she is," Giles supplied.

"Totally," added Willow. "One-hundred percent. Complete slayage."

"It seems that some of our intelligence in this matter is incorrect," replied the congressman, looking over at Ray. "We need to fix that."

"Later," said Buffy. She took a deep breath and fixed her eyes on the congressman. "Congressman Greene, you have my apologies. But, I have to say, it wasn't just seeing you as a demon. I could feel it; it was overwhelming. Fear, hate, anger, desperation. I was a total psych case. Complete Carrie at the prom, you know. I don't know why, though."

"The vision that the Ring supplied undoubtedly affected more than just your sight," Giles said. "It was complete, hitting not just all your senses but also your emotions as well. I think anyone but the Slayer would have been completely undone by it."

Everyone nodded in general agreement. "Is everyone ready to move," Mac asked. Everyone nodded just as the power went out. "Good," he said, "because I think the lads are on their way."

* * *

Xander poked his head out from under a batch of sheets. He had dived in a laundry bin to avoid the security officer that was chasing him. He could see the man, a mere dozen steps away, looking carefully through the pressing machines in hopes of catching site of him. Carefully, Xander lifted one leg over the edge of the bin. Then drew out the other. He was almost clear when he lost his balance, and he, the bin, and the laundry all went crashing to the floor.

The security officer spun around, catching sight of him immediately. A wicked grin spread across his face. "Got you!" he shouted. That's when the lights went out.

Xander Harris wasn't always the quickest thinking guy on the block, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one. He also had a sneaking suspicion of what this sudden turn of events meant. "Looks like they're going to need the getaway driver," he said quietly. He stood and took a step. "Xander Harris to the rescue," he muttered, just before tripping on a bath towel. Wrenching himself free of the laundry, he took off down the darkened hall, hoping he didn't run into anything too solid.

* * *

"They're running two and two up the staircases." Mac was looking at the blips on the portable command console. "Looks like they've finally figured out that Cook's tied up, and they've sent Jessup to get him. Sheffield's staying put, probably with Madame LaFusce." He looked up at the others, his face grave. "Either way, we're gonna run into at least two of them. The south stair is closer to where your friend Harris left his truck. I'd say we take that route."

Everyone nodded, and moved quickly down the hall. The emergency lights provided a minimum of illumination, and the press of the other hotel residents making their emergency escape slowed their progress even more. They entered the south stair and began to descend, Mac in front holding the command console. He held up his hand and stopped everyone. "They're about three floors down," he whispered. "When I hold up my hand again, I want you all to stop, close your eyes, and cover your ears. Are we clear?" They nodded at him. "Good. Now I know where they are, but they dinna know where we are. So, I got a wee bit of a surprise for'em, aye? Just be prepared."

He began again, leading them down the stairs. Another floor, and then half another. Below he could hear the soldiers shouting to clear the rest of the crowd. He held up his hand. Everyone stopped, closed their eyes, and covered their ears. They heard a plink, a thunk, and then a bang. Then Captain moved in a flash, drawing a large pistol from inside his jacket. They heard it fire twice; not loud, but softly. "C'mon everyone," he yelled.

Buffy was first down the stairs. "What did you do?" she demanded. "This whole thing was about not killing people, remember?" Four half-dressed hotel guests moaned loudly while the two commandos weren't moving at all.

"Don't worry your pretty head none, there," he replied. "I just dropped'em a flash grenade to disorient them a bit, and then hit them with a tranq. The lads aren't dead, just sleeping a bit." He smiled at her, a bright toothy grin. "However, I can assure you that they appreciate the concern, but we better get a move one.  The other team will notice that the lads have stopped and cut across any second now."

Everyone ran down the rest of the stairs. About the third floor, they heard the other commandos enter the stairwell. They were once again being pursued. Mac looked at the console. "Sheffield's coming to meet us," he said, and then forged on. They practically flew out the exit at the bottom, coming out abruptly in the parking lot. A black SUV pulled up a dozen yards away, and Sheffield popped out of it, gun at the ready.

"Secure that door," Mac muttered. Spike turned at the order gave it a vicious kick. The metal door bent with his footprint, effectively jamming it closed. "Good," Mac muttered. "Now, anybody got any ideas for how to get past the Major?"

Just then, Xander's red pickup screeched to a halt between the team and Sheffield. Wasting no time, everyone began diving in the back. "Heads down," Mac called, tossing another flash grenade.

Sheffield opened fire, his rifle riddling the side of Xander's truck with bullet holes. But between the steel of the truck and the load of tool boxes and other construction equipment in the back, no one was hit. Xander hit the gas and peeled out.

The whole extraction had taken only a moment, and the grenade was just hitting the ground as they pulled out. Willow, sensing the opportunity, poked her head up from the back and stretched forth her hand. "Mangnificium," she spoke. Magnify.

The flash grenade went off with the power of ten. The concussion knocked Sheffield back a half-dozen yards. Cars in all directions had their windows shattered. The flash was just as intense, blinding Madame LaFusce before she could let off her own spell.

Xander jumped a curve with the big truck, swerved to avoid a fleeing pedestrian, and sideswiped another car. He cut the wheel back and pounded over the shrubs and onto the main roadway. A moving vehicle barely avoided them, and then they were on the road.

"Where to?" he called out to the passengers in back.

"My place," said Spike. "They'll never think to look for us there."