Angel tries to comfort Buffy. The Slayers arrive in Los Angeles. Groo gets seduced by a Spike worshipper. And the vampires in Los Angeles react to the Slayer explosion.
Angel sits on a hallway bench in Saint Francis Medical Center in Santa Barbara. He's staring at an arrow head that he holds in his right hand. Wesley sits to Angel's right. Fred and Gunn sit to Angel's left. "It is my fault," Angel declares.
"Not this again," Gunn worries.
"It's Mal's. Nina broke Buffy's leg with Mal's arrow."
"How can you be so certain?," Wesley asks.
"The three flared edges to tear through flesh. The head connected to the shaft with a socket and a bolt so it won't break off on impact. He shot me with one exactly like this."
"You made a difference," Fred insists.
"Not today."
"Wanna bet? You saved Willow and Anya."
"He did?," Gunn asks.
"How?," Wesley wonders, as mystified as the rest of the men.
"When you decided to come here, you called me, which tipped off Graham. He told the army Buffy was going in earlier than expected, and they rushed to get everyone in place to support her. If you stayed put, those doctors would've been up in the hills when everyone was dying. They wouldn't have made it in time. Maybe it wasn't how you planned, but you did make a difference." Angel, Wes and Gunn take a few seconds to work through the chain of causation.
"But only cause Graham was at Fred's," Gunn points out. Wesley realizes the implication, looks pained, but decides to masochistically point out the obvious.
"Charles is correct. If Graham had not spent the night, Willow and Anya would not have been rescued in time." What a horrible, horrible notion — Fred sleeping with other men can save lives. His chest felt like it was slowly imploding. No one knows how to respond to this. Gunn is also bothered by this conclusion, though less so than anguished, unrequited Wesley.
"Unintended consequences cut both ways," Angel offers. "No surprise there." For instance, if Angel never slept with Darla, Buffy would not have a broken leg, because Mal came to southern California solely because Connor existed. Thankfully, this does not occur to Angel. Though Darla would no doubt have loved it. Connor pops up seemingly out of nowhere.
"The Potentials are okay," he reports, calling them that out of habit. "The ones who aren't hurt. They're watching tv. I can get 'em if you want."
"Not until we have word on Amanda and Fadila," Wes replies. "I trust they wouldn't have much stomach for our self-pity." He doesn't want to drag the girls down into their "What More Could We Have Done?" downward spiral.
"So we go when they're better?," Connor asks. "Slayers heal fast, right?" He doesn't mean to sound insensitive, but Connor can't hide his eagerness to see Dawn.
"Yes, they're coming with us," Angel answers. "But only when they're ready." Connor's restless fidgeting highlights his impatience.
"Why don't you head back to the girls?," Wesley suggests. "I'm sure they'd appreciate your company."
"I know a girl who would appreciate it more."
"That does it," Angel responds angrily. "A lot of people got hurt today. And more than a few died. So I would appreciate it if you showed a little more compassion for the feelings of others."
"I'm sorry," Connor mutters nonchalantly, looking down at the ground.
"No you're not."
"Whatever you say," he responds with a scowl.
"Angel, now isn't the time for this," Fred gently suggests.
"Dawn is getting the best possible medical care," Angel continues. "Whether she sees you an hour from now or ten hours from now won't make her get better any faster."
"I'll just, go back," Connor mumbles before disappearing.
Angel hears a familiar voice in the distance and stands up. "Buffy." He runs down the hall.
"What about sympathy for others?," Connor asks Wes, Fred and Gunn, miffed by Angel's apparent hypocrisy. Buffy's at the front desk, trying to sign out. A doctor stands behind her, telling the nurse behind the desk not to let the patient out. Buffy turns around. She's using crutches and has a cast on her left leg.
"Thank you very much, you did a great job, but I'm ready to go."
"You suffered a life-threatening injury. I had to remove your spleen," the doctor explains.
"And you did such a good job, I'm checking out early."
"You shouldn't be out of your wheelchair. You could tear the stitches. And there's still a risk of infection."
"Is there a problem?," Angel asks.
"Do you know this woman?," the doctor enquires.
"Quite well."
"Then she's your problem. God help you." The doctor shakes his head and talks to the nurse. "If you get a fever, please go to a hospital," he tells Buffy before signing her discharge form and walking away. Meanwhile, Connor's gone back to check on the Slayers, discovering to his surprise that Madari, Ariella and Rona have been joined by Amanda and Fadila. Once he mentions having seen Buffy in the hallway, they rush to join her. However, given that Amanda has a torn right hamstring, her rushing takes the form of anxious limping. Fadila, with her punctured left lung, is also a bit slow off the mark. Wes, Fred and Gunn also join the group.
"First thing when we get back, we need to get all you Slayers out of those clothes," Angel says, causing gasps. "And into something less blood-soaked," he clarifies. For the first time, Connor realizes that Buffy's going to be living with his dad, which — quite hypocritically — sickens him.
Angel looks at the large bandage on the right side of Amanda's neck, and the large bandage on the left side of Buffy's neck. "Did one of those uber-vamps do that to you?," Angel asks Amanda.
"Yeah. But it, it didn't take much before Faith killed it." The mention of Faith causes the Slayers to lower their heads in a spontaneous moment of reverential silence. Angel looks at Buffy, who's still quite pale.
"Ah guess it took a little more from you," Fred says to Buffy. She looks very nervous, and the other Slayers appear uncomfortable as well. Angel notices Buffy's avoiding eye contact.
"Spike bit me." For the next five seconds, everyone's too stunned to say a word."
"What?," Angel asks.
"He went evil in the end?," Wes assumes.
"It was the only way to override the, the, thing, and keep the Slayer line from getting cut," Buffy tries to explain. Angel doesn't quite see how that would work. Fred and Gunn are also stumped. Wesley, who read the prophecy book, mulls this shocking development over.
"Of course! You have no line, no inheritor. Nothing for the Pearl to absorb. Did Rupert come up with that?"
"No. Spike just thought it up on the spot." Wesley's surprised Spike could come up with something so clever. Angel wonders if there were ulterior motives. Maybe Spike was just acting on instinct and got lucky.
"So what killed him?," Fred asks.
"The Merv Stone," Wesley infers. "Which would explain why his clothes survived. The Stone's mystical energy can only be conducted through flesh."
"What are you talking about?," Buffy asks. She saw a bright flash of light, and Spike was gone. The whole clothes thing is new to her.
"Can we go now?," Rona asks.
"Certainly," Wes answers. "I'll take you to the car. Hopefully there will be enough room, or else one of you will have to ride on the roof." Amanda laughs. As does Fadila, who grabs her left side in pain.
"What about Connor?," Rona proposes. "I think he could hang on."
"I stand out back on the bumper," Connor replies. "Ella can take the top." Madari and Rona laugh. Ella whispers something to Fadila as they walk towards the exit. "I wasn't being anti-semitic!," Connor exclaims. "I don't even know what that is." Ariella pinches Connor's right cheek to show she's just messing with him.
"They seem to be getting along real well," Fred notes.
"Boy's finally got friends he can go out and play with," Gunn explains.
"And by play,' you mean demon killing?"
"They ain't goin' to school. It's either demon-killing, or gang-banging."
"Don't any teenagers jus' hang out at the mall anymore?"
"Not in our world."
The Groosalug stands up in his Royal Tent, walking gingerly because of the wound to his right shin. He wears tanned leather pants, a green shirt, black fur cape and an iron crown. Panthesilea, wearing a short gold and black dress (despite the near-freezing temperatures), silver belt, purple cape and gold crown, walks towards the tent's entrance, which is guarded by two burly soldiers with spears. They cross their spears to block the entrance. "The King is expecting no visitors."
"Then this is his lucky night." In the blink of and eye, Penny grabs one spear with each hand and sends the shafts into each guard's nose, bloodying them before they can even react. She walks in, knowing the guards will be too embarrassed to ask Groo if he wants the intruder removed. Groo catches sight of the tall, powerfully-built, striking woman, and can't help but stare. Panthesilea removes her cape and tosses it onto Groo's head. Penny gets behind him, puts her arms around his waist and removes his sword and belt before lifting the veil. "I always get nervous when an armed man stares at me like that."
Groo had never heard that particular pick-up line before. "I would never hurt you," he pledges.
"It's not me I'm worried about." Was she threatening his life?, Groo wonders. Maybe this isn't a seduction after all. (Groo's quite sexually naive, at least by the standards of the people he's met outside of Pylea.)
"You commanded the invaders."
"Still do. Though I suppose we're no longer invaders, now that the locals have become our allies. Thanks to you."
"I did my job. That is all."
"Strong, yet humble. You know how rare that is?"
"Very. In every world but my own."
"Scyra is your world now."
"So long as its people desire my services."
"I don't see that being a problem," she says with a flirtatious grin.
"Does this meeting concern affairs of state?," Groo asks nervously.
"Yes. I suppose it does." He breathes a sigh of relief. Then Panthesilia puts her foot up on a stool. "This bracelet is always falling down. Can you be a gentleman and help me?" Groo stares at her leg. "In my world, refusing this request is seen as a sign of distrust." Politics sure didn't work like this in Pylea. Groo walks over and uses his right hand to slowly push the bracelet up to just below her knee, where it rests atop her very firm calf muscle. She puts her foot back on the ground. "Was that so hard?"
"Well. I, I suppose . . . " He's been rendered speechless right on schedule. Penny puts her hands on his chest.
"The people here trust you. It is important that they view me as a friend, and no longer think of me as an enemy." Groo looks at her gold necklace with a ruby gem, her gold earrings, the gold snake around her right upper arm. Oh, and her golden crown with several inset gems.
"You are more than a mere general. You are a princess." She takes this as an insult, and gives Groo a ferocious look with her brown eyes that makes him tremble.
"Do I look like a mere princess?"
"You are a queen," he realizes.
"Which makes you my equal." She breaks the chain holding Groo's cape up. Then she puts her arms around his shoulders and runs her fingers through his hair, leaning in so her lips are six inches from his.
"Are, are you MY queen?"
"Until the sun comes up," she replies, raising her eyebrows. Groo is used to taking a long arduous journey to risk his life fighting a mighty foe. He's not used to being rewarded so quickly and so immensely. Penny leans in and kisses him. Groo wraps his arms around her waist. But after a little while, he begins to feel guilty.
"What is your name?"
"Panthesilea. And you're the Groosalug. Now that we got that out of the way - " she kisses neck his for a bit before putting her tongue in his right ear. Her patented corkscrew makes him weak in the knees. He has to say something now, while he still has an ounce of resistance left. Groo doesn't want to take advantage of the woman, even if she's taking advantage of him.
"You would not be my first." Panthesilea lets go of Groo, backs up and chuckles.
"You're funny."
"I am serious."
"That's WHY you're funny!," she explains, running her right hand down his left cheek. "Did you grow up on a deserted island?" That's the only way she can explain his naivete. No adult in her world is that innocent. And the people from Buffy's world were even less innocent than the people in Scyra. "You weren't married?"
"No."
"Then you're a virgin. Like me." Groo's very perplexed. He doesn't know that the Scyreans (like the ancient Sumerians) sometimes define a virgin as someone who has never married, even if they are sexually experienced.
"There was a princess. We kam-shakt. I loved her very much. I still do." Penny's eyes light up. To her, kam-shak sounds exotic and adventurous. Maybe he wasn't as innocent as he let on.
"You've had one princess. Big deal. I've had dozens." Groo doesn't know what to make of that last remark. It would no doubt give pause to even a far more jaded man. Then she leans in and licks the back of his right earlobe before sticking her tongue in his left ear. This woman was good. Good enough to make him forget what she just said. She kisses him some more on the lips while ripping off his shirt. "A lot for me to work with," she notes with a smile, putting her hands on his pecs and pushing Groo down on his back. As he gazes up, she removes her belt and pulls her dress off both shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Groo's eyes actually appear to get bigger than normal. Penny gets down on her knees and straddles him. Groo grabs her thighs and starts to tremble.
"Queen Panthesilea, you are very beautiful. Your long flowing hair, your graceful chin, your lean, muscular, yet still most ladylike, body." There didn't seem to be an ounce of fat on her. "But I still love Cordelia."
"And I still love Spike. Which shouldn't be a problem, unless they show up. And what are the chances of that?," she responds before laughing. Groo doesn't laugh back.
"You . . . love . . . Spike?"
"I'm a woman. How could I not?" To Groo, that was hardly a rhetorical question. He mulls this Spike thing over as she kisses his chest and works her way down to his stomach. It seems that every woman who wants to sleep with him is in love with a vampire.
"You . . . made sex with the vampire?" Panthesilea flutters her tongue across his belly button, and he sighs tremulously. His breath quickens. This woman's finding erogenous zones Groo didn't even know he had.
"Make it with Spike? I wish!," she answers before pressing her body down against his and kissing his neck and face.
"And, I would imagine, so must he." Penny smiles, touches the tip of her tongue to the tip of his nose, then kisses Groo on the lips as she pulls her left leg up, wrapping her toes around the waistband of his trousers and pushing she down to his ankles. Groo decides to quit asking the sexy naked woman questions.
"It's two o'clock," Kit says to Elijah as they sit in the lobby. "We should have heard something by now."
"The world's still here. That's a good sign. If they lost, we'd have noticed the apocalyptic ripples by now. Wouldn't we?"
"Probably."
"Probably?"
"I've never experienced the ending of the world. I don't know what to expect."
"Should I ask the lounge demon? Maybe he's heard something."
"He's afraid of me."
"Why's that, Kit?"
"Mind-readers are very nervous about having their own minds read."
"I thought you can only read auras?"
"Which means I can detect moods. I can't know what he's thinking. But I can figure out what he's feeling. And, at the moment it's not unbearable grief."
"So, that means he won't need any cheering up?," Elijah asks, not getting the the point. Kit slaps his left shoulder with the back of her right hand.
"It means his friends haven't died. And that Connor hasn't. Otherwise, every time he passed through here, I'd sense his guilt about not telling us."
"Maybe he hasn't heard anything. He could be in the dark like us." Kit shakes her head.
"I made a point of passing by his room before I went to school this morning." Lorne has a pied-e-terre in addition to his own place a few miles away. "Massive worry. When I came back after school, I stood outside the office because I knew he was inside. The worry was gone."
"Remind me to bring you along if I'm ever looking to buy a used car." They laugh. He puts his left hand on her right knee.
"Silly Eli," Kit responds, rubbing Elijah's floppy blonde hair with her right hand. "I can't use my gifts for selfish gain."
"The gain would be mine. So it wouldn't be selfish." She scowls. "You'd just be making sure I wasn't getting ripped off. How is that unethical?"
"Because once you take that first step, it's hard to stop."
"If you're a perpetual motion machine," Elijah quips. "Of course, then, in addition to abusing magic, you'd be violating the second law of thermodynamics. Which, to science nerds like me, would be a far bigger deal."
"Give a machine enough fuel, and it runs until it breaks."
"Pretty much. By the way, I like how you're using my engineering metaphor. Kind of a turn-on, to be honest."
"A witch is like that machine. Still turned-on?"
"Sorry, Kit. I know this is serious stuff."
"Once a powerful witch takes that first step, it's hard to stop before she walks off a cliff. If a little trick helps someone, and I have fun doing it, pretty soon I'm trying bigger ones."
"Ah yes. The proverbial slippery slope," Eli responds skeptically. "According to which, artificial intelligence and genetic engineering lead to enslavement by evil corporations and their armies of robots and mutants."
"There are real, and non-paranoid, examples. Like, for instance, right now you have your hand on my leg." He takes it off. "No. As you were." He smiles and puts it back on. "I respond to your little gesture with one of my own." She kisses him on the left cheek. "You respond by kissing me on the lips." He leans in to do just that, but she holds him back. "I'm being hypothetical. Hypothetically, I kiss you back, and before long we're making out in front of everyone, you have your hand up my shirt, and my dad walks by."
"At which point he puts a spell on me so that the next time I try to touch you, my hands fall off."
"I wouldn't go that far."
"Would he?" Kit laughs. "So, what you're saying, among other things, is that I'm irresistible."
"In your dreams."
"You can't read those, can you?"
"No. Thankfully." Elijah's phone rings. He takes it out of his right pocket.
"It's Connor's number." Eli stands up and answers. "Connor? She's in the hospital! Where? Okay. Okay, I'll meet you there." He hangs up. "Dawn's in the hospital."
"Where?"
"The L.A. Orthopaedic Hospital." He flips through a telephone book that was under the front desk.
"What happened to her?"
"Connor doesn't know."
"Obviously something foot or leg-related."
"It's on South Flower Street." He flips to the front of the book where the maps are. "Just outside the loop. Right off 110. I can find my way."
"Or, better yet, I could find it for you while you drive," Kit suggests as she walks with Elijah towards the front door.
"You'd be telling me what to do. I quite comfortable with that."
"I've noticed," Kit replies with a small half-smirk. Connor's news gave her a great sense of relief. Yes, Dawn was hurt. And probably very badly. But she was alive.
The Slayers have just passed Oxnard and are about thirty miles from the Hyperion. Gunn drives, with Buffy riding shotgun, her leg propped up on the dashboard. Fadila's behind Gunn, and Amanda's behind Buffy. Behind them sit Rona, Ariella and Madari. On the floor, in back, are Angel, Wes, Fred and Connor, steerage in their own vehicle.
"We should have brought another car," Wes states.
"We don't have one," Angel reminds him.
"What happened to the convertible?," Buffy asks from up front.
"It's in the shop. Mal bodyslammed it."
"He did the same to mine," Gunn reports.
"He blew mine up," Wesley adds. Actually, it was his detective agency's car. But Mal also took care of the agency by killing all of Wesley's employees. That business, founded less than a year ago, seemed like part of a distant past life now. So much had changed in twelve months.
When the girls arrive at the Hyperion, they become wide-eyed and awestruck.
"This is all yours?," Amanda asks.
"Angel rents. He has a lease," Wes explains as they enter the front courtyard.
"Why would he need all this space?," Madari wonders.
"Buffy saved the world from a little tiny house," Rona points out.
"The hotel was haunted by a demon that turned guests homicidal."
"That couldn't have been good for business," Fadila jokes.
"The building had been vacant for nearly twenty years before Angel killed the demon and established residence."
"So the dead guy gets the building because he's the only one who could make it liveable," Ariella concludes.
"That's a good way to put it," Fred compliments. They enter the lobby. The girls are blown away.
"It's like a palace!," Madari exclaims. The Slayers stream down the stairs into the center of the atrium.
"Do we each get our own rooms?," Rona asks.
"No," Lorne says as he walks out from behind the desk. The girls stop and look worried by the strange creature. "As our V.I.P. guests, you can each have two rooms! We'll just knock down a wall and turn it into your very own luxury suite. You lovely ladies must be the Slayers. Kudos on saving the world. I'd hug you but I sense that you find me repulsive. Don't worry. I'm not as scary as I look."
"You don't look scary at all," Amanda tells Lorne, to his chagrin.
"Maybe a little creepy," Rona clarifies.
"Lorne's a good guy," Gunn tells the girls.
"Are you a singer?," Ariella asks.
"Wait a sec. You were at the Bronze!," Fadila recalls.
"When?," Madari asks.
"He opened for Lindsey," Ariella points out. The girls all smile and sigh.
"I remember Lindsey," Madari responds, eliciting smiles and nods from the other Slayers. "But I don't remember this guy."
"You three were out hunting for boys," Fadila explains. They take umbrage at the predatory implications.
"I was hunting for vampires," Rona insists. "Which did cause me to meet Clarence, and save his life. I hope he's still here."
"So you're a helpful demon," Amanda infers. "Like Clem?"
"Hey! Clem's a nice enough fellow, but I'm far better-looking, and a snazzier dresser. Also, I don't eat cats."
"Demons eat cats?," Fred responds, looking horrified.
"They also eat people," Wes reminds her, trying to point out the ridiculousness of her outrage.
"But people can fight back."
"Cheetahs and tigers can put up one helluva fight," Gunn points out.
"But little kitty cat kittens? That's so sad. And disgusting."
"And let's not forget that it reinforces ugly anti-demon stereotypes," Lorne mentions. "Sorry I led us off-track," he apologizes to the girls. "Let me check out our occupancy and fight your rooms. Which floor would like?"
"Isn't this cool?," Amanda exults. "We get to choose floors. A few days ago, we were sleeping on the floor."
"And a few days ago, you probably couldn't rip me limb-from-limb," Lorne comments. "Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't put that one to the test."
"Can you tell us what rooms our boyfriends are in?," Rona requests.
"Long as you tell me their last names. Just so you know, they're all rooming with their parents."
"Good thing we're not," Amanda notes. Rona smiles. So does Madari. The possibility of spending the night alone with a boy had never crossed her mind. A month ago, she had never even kissed a boy. None of this hormonal stuff had occurred to Wesley. Naturally, it makes him uneasy. He walks off with Gunn and Fred.
"At least they're human," Fred says to Wesley with a shrug.
"You don't have to walk with me!," Buffy insists to Angel, who covers his head with his coat to protect against direct sunlight while Buffy uses her crutches to hop from the parking lot to the hotel.
"I'm just here to help."
"I don't need help. You're the one who's risking spontaneous combustion. Already your back's starting to smoke." Angel quickly retreats to the shade of the rear courtyard and its colonnade, while Buffy makes her way with frustrating slowness. It's the first time she's been lame since becoming a Slayer. The inconvenience and sense of helplessness are maddening. When Buffy gets to the fountain, she gazes up at the building.
"Holy crap! This place is nearly as big as my high school. What exactly did you have to do to get it?"
"Nothing illegal. Actually, well, nothing immoral." He did pay for the lease with stolen cash. "No one got hurt. By me. Directly."
"Long story, don't ask. I get it."
"I did kill the demon who possessed the place."
"Sadly, the demons I kill never seem to own real estate."
"You can stay here as long as you, until something better comes — and you'll have your own room, of course."
"There's definitely enough to go round."
"Or, if you want, we can take you to see Dawn first."
"I think we passed the awkward spending-the-night moment a long time ago. Probably the day after we escaped from The Three."
"This particular situation is a little unprecedented."
"I don't have a home. Giles is dead. Spike is dead. There are five new Slayers. And I can't walk! You're damn right this is unprecedented."
"I'm sorry, Buffy. I just want to help you."
"I know. And, it's sweet. But right now I need some serious alone time."
"I would too."
"I'm not talking about months of brooding," Buffy jokes, causing Angel to laugh, which makes her finally smile. "Just a few hours to think through some stuff."
"Take your time."
"Do I have a choice? This cast isn't coming off until at least Saturday." It's Thursday.
"I'd get it x-rayed first. You'd hate to take it off before the bone healed and have it snap again." Something occurs to Angel. "Last week, when I couldn't walk for a couple days after fighting Mal, Wesley brought in a doctor friend of his who's familiar with, our world. He set the bones, put on some air casts, did a real good job. On Connor as well. If anyone knows how best to heal the superpowered, it's him."
"Does he do this sort of thing a lot?"
"I was his first vampire. Connor was his first . . . "
"Connor." Angel smiles.
"And you'd probably be his first Slayer. But he's very open-minded and adaptable. And the closest thing to an expert that I know of."
"Working on you didn't wig him out?"
"Connor was more surprising to him."
"Plus, he was probably a far worse patient. I bet when the doctor asked Does this hurt?', he tried to break both his arms." Buffy thinks over her options. "How bout have Gunn or Wes or whoever drive me to see Dawn. The moving in can wait. Also, I don't have any stuff to move."
"The Mayor said she'd take care of that. The truck should be here by tonight. I'm still not quite used to saying The Mayor' and meaning a good guy. Or gal, as the case may be."
"Poor Stella. She must be taking this pretty hard."
"We all are. Even Connor was crying." They enter the lobby.
"Holy mother of - ," Buffy says as she looks around the spacious lobby. "And no one even lives in this part." After months of very cramped quarters, the Hyperion seems excessive and wasteful.
"Speaking of Connor, where is he? Did he come in with you guys?," Angel asks Gunn and Fred.
"No," Fred realizes, to her surprise. "I though he was with you."
"Haven't seen him since we parked the car," Gunn concurs.
"Oh no," Angel laments.
"He stole your car!?," Buffy assumes. To her, Connor's still a delinquent at best and a homicidal maniac at worst.
"He went to the hospital on foot," Angel infers.
"It's seven miles away," Gunn points out. "And Connor doesn't even know where it is."
"He's trying to track her scent?," Buffy asks with a cringe.
"She came by helicopter," Fred reminds them. So much for tracking. Angel worries about his son wandering around the city. Buffy worries about Connor carjacking someone and making them drive him there. Part of Buffy still sees him as the psycho who tried to kill her.
Victor and Louis enter Clayton's office. They are nervous about stepping in front of the window, through with sunlight pours in. "It's tinted. The UVs won't hurt you," Clay assures them.
"A daytime meeting," Vic notes. "This better be important."
"The Slayers have come to town."
"Slayers?," Lou asks. "I thought there was only one?"
"Actually, there are two," Vic reminds him.
"Actually, there are now six. And all within the city limits."
"You're tripping," Lou declares.
"How do you make six?," Vic wonders.
"The same way you make one: Magic." He hands Lou a thin dossier. "Here are the names, pictures, and the address where they are staying. I should have a more thorough report by tomorrow night." The pictures were taken at the military base that morning. "Three of them are badly injured. All of them have been through a harrowing ordeal. I suspect they'll lay low for the next few days. They may want to wait for their leader to recuperate. But be careful. Three of them could be out slaying this very night. Your enemies have never possessed so much fire power. Forgive me for sounding all Hill Street Blues, but be careful out there."
"Check out the sista," Lou notes with a smile.
"I like the lanky one," Vic confesses.
"You won't get them alone. And remember what happens to vampires who fall for Slayers. Cautionary tales."
"I know this address," Lou announces. "They must be working with Angel and the boy."
"One can hope." Lou doesn't see what Vic's getting at. "I can smell the Capeman from a block away." That's his nickname for Angel, on account of the long coats. "Add six Slayers, and the chances they sneak up on me drop to zero."
"Slayer proliferation presents an obvious challenge. But it also presents a golden opportunity."
"You mean there's more where these came from?," Victor asks.
"The world's becoming a dangerous place," Lou adds.
"And you two are in a perfect position to benefit. These developments put a premium on organization, discipline, and intelligence gathering. Your organization is designed to excel at all three. Play your cards right, and the Slayers eliminate the competition while leaving your vampires untouched."
"Survival of the Fittest," Victor says with a smile.
"Those girls are gonna hand us the world," Louis hopes. "And then we'll take 'em down one-by-one."
"Emphasis on one-by-one," Clayton reminds them.
"More like one hundred-on-eight," Victor says with a smile, referring to the comparative size of forces in Los Angeles.
"For every Slayer they lost, you'd lose five vampires."
"Still leaves sixty for us," Vic notes.
"At least fifty vampires would abandon you before the fight even ended. The men and women who follow you want to live. That's why they joined. If you can't protect your own, you'll be right back where you were before Mal showed up. He changed everything. Don't let the Slayers change it back."