Chapter 24

Showdown

Sunnydale – May 24th

"Okay Xander, you go make sure that Tara and Dawn are okay," Buffy said as they unloaded at the graveyard. "Then you and Anya lay low. We'll call you when we know what's going to happen next."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" he asked, concerned.

"Nope," she replied. "This is hidey time. Besides, you need to make with some z's. We'll be okay hanging out here for the night."

"Okay," he said. "I'll check on you in the morning." He sped off.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Giles asked.

"He's so tired he's becoming more of a liability than an asset," Buffy replied. "Besides, I'd like to minimize the number of players in the final showdown."

"So you think they'll come for us. Tonight?" He was starting to show signs of strain himself.

"Not a doubt in my mind," she replied. "Now let's get inside."

The two made their way into Spike's crypt and closed the door. Congressman Greene and Ray were sitting in one corner, quietly conversing. Mac was investigating the room, assessing its defensive possibilities. Willow had collapsed near the large, stone coffin that dominated the room. Spike, by comparison, had grabbed a beer and switched on the television.

"So, I heard you shed a tear for me," Spike said to Buffy. "Couldn't bear the thought of being without old Spike, could you?"

"I couldn't bear the thought of somebody other than me doing the deed," Buffy rejoined. "I'm glad I'm still going to get the chance."

"Yeah, yeah, say all you like," he replied. "But if it wasn't for old me, you'd be up the river and Mr. Green Jeans over there would be looking like a stuck pig. The way I see it, the government of this country owes me a debt of gratitude."

"I hate to say it," Giles muttered, "but I believe Spike may be right. Of course, in balance against all the evil he's done, I'm really not worried about owing him too much."

 "I know you," the congressman said suddenly. "You're Hostile Seventeen." The congressman used the designation that the Initiative had assigned him.

Spike looked up sharply. "The name is Spike," he yelled in exasperation. "Not William. Not Hey You. Not Blondie. And Judas Freekin' Priest, not Hostile Seventeen!" He glared at all of them.

"So," the congressman said, "the chip really does work."

"Yes," said Giles. "That's why they needed to get rid of him. They were afraid of exactly what happened. As long as he has that chip, he would be able to tell that you really are human, not demon."

The congressman nodded. "And using the Slayer to do it. Interesting. I thought they were trying to get custody of the Slayer. That's why I've been blocking the request by the Webber Institute."

"The what?" Giles said. "What did you just say?" he asked alarmed.

"The Webber Institute," Congressman Greene repeated. "You saw the file, correct? Well, the hospital that requested the prisoner transfer is owned and operated by the Webber Institute. Do you know it?"

"I should say so," Giles replied. "That's the operating corporation for the Watcher's Council. I was afraid that this was one rogue member, Madame LaFusce. But apparently it reaches well up into the council itself."

"And the RAF," Mac added. "You don't get an SAS team assigned to a project like this just by asking nicely. Somebody is connected."

"Yes, but why?" Giles asked.

"The Millionaire question will have to wait," Buffy said, standing by a window. She turned to the group. "They're here."

* * *

Madame LaFusce and Major Sheffield walked slowly up to the crypt. Sheffield had dispatched his men to form a perimeter. No one was coming in; no one was leaving. The battle was between the two of them and those inside the crypt. He turned to the old woman at his side. Her eyes were healed through her own magic, but around them the skin was bright red with the flash burns.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Sheffield called to the crypt. The door opened, and Buffy emerged.

"You've decided to come play, then?" she asked.

"I've come to dance on your grave," Madame LaFusce hissed.

"Try the jitterbug, it's the easiest on soft earth," Buffy replied. She looked between the two. "Is this all you brought?"

"It's all we need to take care of you," Sheffield said. "And the congressman," he added.

"But if you insist," LaFusce smiled. She took out several crystals from her pocket and cast them on the ground. She held up her hands and murmured briefly. The crystals began to glow, then smoke, and from them emerged a small cadre of demons.

"I thought you didn't like folks who cavorted with demons," Buffy said. "Does your boss know who your playmates are?"

"My Creator knows all," Madame LaFusce laughed. "Demons are not to be used as equals. They are to enslaved or destroyed. They are to be bent to our purposes and then cast into oblivion. These are bound to one purpose, to kill you and then to die."

Buffy nodded. She recognized this method of calling forth demons. It's what Madame LaFusce had used to bring about the 'simulations' in Willow's test. "So the ones you used in the test weren't simulations. They were the real thing. You made Willow fight real demons."

"Yes," Madame LaFusce cackled. "Glorious, wasn't it? But now, we'll see how you do against them."

"No problem," Buffy said, walking out to meet the creatures. She pointed at each one. "I think I'll name you Huey, Dewey, Louie, and old Uncle Scrooge." From behind her back, she drew out a battle-axe. "I hope you like carbon steel, boys."

"Serpentus Transformo," the old Frenchwoman uttered. Transform into a Serpent. Buffy found herself holding a boa constrictor instead. She screeched and dropped it. "You didn't think this was going to be a fair fight, did you?" Madame LaFusce cackled again.

"Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?" a voice called out. "Fomus Revertis," Willow uttered. Revert Your Form. The snake shrank back into an axe. "It's you and me, bitch!" Fire blazed in her eyes.

Sheffield pulled his pistol out to end Willow's interference in a single shot, but a voice brought him up short. "Now, now Major," Mac called. "Why don't you leave the lassies to their game, while we play ours, aye?" Sheffield turned and fired, but Mac moved easily behind a tombstone. "You're going to need to do a bit better than that," he called. At the same moment, he rolled around stone and fired at Sheffield, forcing him to leap away.

The battle was in full swing.

* * *

Spike stood at the window of the crypt, watching, his arms moving in mock participation. "Why can't I get out there?" he asked.

"Because if one of those creatures gets passed Buffy, you need to make sure that it doesn't get to the congressman," Giles replied.

"Then what's your job?" Spike asked.

"Making sure you do yours," Giles replied coldly.

"Yeah," Spike muttered. "Whatever."

"Tell me," Giles said to the congressman, "how did you conclude from the Webber Institute request that they were trying to get custody of Buffy?"

"I didn't think they were trying to get Miss Summers," Congressman Greene replied. "There was another name that came up when we ran the id's of the prisoners they requested. A girl named Faith."

"Tribe mates of mine in Los Angeles told me that she was the Slayer," Ray added.

"She is," Giles replied. "I believe we may both be right in this."

"How can that be," the congressman asked. "There can only be one Slayer. Another is not called until the instant of a Slayer's death."

"True," replied Giles. "Only the advent of CPR has somewhat changed that formula." Years ago, Buffy had been drowned by an evil vampire known as The Master. She was clinically dead, but within moments Xander Harris had administered CPR to revive her. From that action, the world ended up with two Slayers – Buffy and Kendra. When Kendra died, Faith was called. Giles didn't bother to explain it. "Besides," he muttered, "Buffy tends to not play by anyone's rules."

"So there are two Slayers?" Ray muttered, awed.

"Yeah," replied Spike. "And the other one's quite the piece of work. Know what she's in for, don'tcha? Murder. She staked a human and then left him to die." Spike smiled. "She's a hot ticket, though. I hear she tortured poor Wesley Price before she got caught. God, I would've loved to have seen that. Sounds like if the watchers get their way she'll be free for dinner soon. Maybe I should look her up."

"Faith confessed to her crimes, and is serving her sentence to make amends," Giles supplied, miffed at himself for defending her. "The watcher's tried to take her by force once, to terminate her. It sounds like they may be up to that again."

"More like use her," Spike replied. "These guys are nasty, and it sounds like she'll fit right in with them."

"Let's hope not," Giles replied.

* * *

Buffy neatly decapitated the first of the creatures, the one named Dewey. It staggered back, spouting blood, and then collapsed. She allowed her momentum to carry her into Huey, who blocked he strike and backhanded her forcefully. She flew a dozen feet and landed hard. She merely shook it off and flipped back into a fighting stance.

Buffy's adrenaline was pumping hard. She was the Slayer; this is what she did. She was gifted with strength, agility, an iron constitution and remarkable combat sense. She was, in fact, the ultimate fighting machine. Even the hybrid creation Adam had failed to stop her. Granted, she'd had a little help with him. By comparison, though, this was a walk in the park, albeit a creepy, dark, graveyardy sort of a park.

She moved forward to engage Huey again. He was the shortest of the three remaining foes, standing only six-foot-two, not counting his horns. He was well muscled and dressed only in leather straps. "C'mon you Gladiator reject," Buffy taunted. It lunged at her, its big arms swinging in wide arcs. Its fist caught the stone where she'd been standing only a moment before, sending it scattering in showers of sharp fragments.

Buffy rolled and kicked at his gut, sending him staggering backwards. She moved in and swung the axe at his chest. He jumped back, flinging his arms up to avoid the weapon. Buffy used the momentum of the swing to spin her around, and she planted a high side kick in his face. He went head over heels and landed on a headstone. The sound of his spine snapping was as loud as a gunshot. Buffy separated his head from shoulders to finish the job.

"Who's next?" she asked.

* * *

Sheffield could no longer hear the other battles going on. He'd been following the retreating figure of MacKenzie. He'd been catching glimpses of the figure running ahead, occasionally punctuated by pistol fire. It had been some minutes since he'd last see his former underling, but he knew they were nearing the perimeter the other men had set up. Mac wasn't going to escape this time.

Sheffield crept cautiously among the tombstones. A movement ahead brought him up short. He brought his night vision binoculars up to his eyes, and spied Brody up ahead. The soldier was outfitted in body armor and mask and held his rifle at the ready. "Brody," Sheffield spoke into the communicator. "Have you seen Mac?"

The figure up ahead raised his arm, held up three fingers, and pointed off to his left. Close, thought Sheffield. Three meters, too close for Brody to even speak. He had him. He moved around to the left and motioned Brody to come in on a pincer move. Carefully, he came around until he heard breathing.

He popped around a large memorial statue, his pistol at the ready. There, on the ground, was the bound and gagged figure of Brody. Sheffield had been deceived! He spun to engage Mac, now wearing Brody's body armor and mask. Too late. The butt of Brody's rifle caught the Major across the jaw, then again in the gut, and then once again. Sheffield crumpled.

Mac stood over the man and pulled off his stocking mask. "Well, Major, I'd say that just about settles it for us. I wonder how the lassies are doing."