Suggested Listening:

"A Woman Destroyed" Garbage

"Walk Like Panther" Algiers

"Puttin' Out Fires" Vigilantes of Love

Dies Irae (Day of Wrath)

By

Michael Walker

"Really?"

"Really." Willow sighed and set her mouth in a resigned line.

Buffy shook her head. "You just… talked it out? Like–" she shuddered "-adults?"

"I wouldn't say that."

The Monday after prom had dawned bright and sunny, a beautiful morning for the student body of Sunnydale High to begin the last push to the end of the year. Buffy and Willow had just turned off Oak Park onto Abracus. The Slayer wore an old pair of cropped olive chinos and an ivory scoop-neck; her trusty lightweight navy blue hoodie finished the outfit. Willow wore overalls and a long-sleeved top with horizontal stripes in two tones of green. Buses growled past them and into the drive in front of the school.

"So, what now?" Buffy stuffed her hands in her pockets and gave her friend a quizzical look.

"I don't know," Willow said, shrugging. "We're not a couple any more, but we're not–" she made actual air quotes with her fingers "-'broken up' in the usual sense. I mean, we're not avoiding each other… at least, I don't think we are… but we're…" She looked at her friend and her mouth turned down. "I really got no idea."

The Slayer ran her thumbs under the straps of her backpack. "Well, that's reassuring." She mock-punched Willow's shoulder. "But if anybody will provide a beacon to the rest of us, it will be you and Oz."

"Yeah." Willow drew the word out to about four syllables. "About that… there's already one change I should tell you about."

Buffy stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "What? You're going to follow that? With what?"

Willow pursed her lips. "I've changed my college plans."

"Huh?" The Slayer shook her head. "What does that even mean? Are you going to the U now?"

Willow chewed on her lip for a couple of heartbeats. "No… I'm going to MIT."

"Where?" Buffy's face was a portrait of blank amazement.

"MIT."

"Well, where's that?" Buffy threw her hands in the air.

Willow squinted through one eye. "It's the Massachusetts Institute of Technology."

"What? I know that, I know… That MIT? There's not one in California?"

Willow shook her head. "I don't think so."

Buffy was having trouble wrapping her head around this information. "But that's, like, in Boston."

"Cambridge, actually."

"Yeah, but that's like… Glendale. It's part of LA, Cambridge is part of Boston."

"I'll ask them how they feel about that." Willow looked skeptical.

"You're–" Buffy stopped herself. "God, I'm so sorry, Will. You're going to MIT and I'm babbling like I'm on Sprockets. I–" She searched for words. "I'm… I'm so happy for you."

"Really?" Willow said, her eyes opening wide.

"I am emotionally obliterated." The Slayer threw a mock-curtsey.

"Okay, Dieter. No need to go overboard." Willow shook her head and turned toward the school. Buffy hurried to catch up.

"So," Stefan said, "we haven't really talked since your night as the Dancing Queen–"

"Please, hater." Matti turned her head so he couldn't see her small smile. Her feet were propped on the corner of her desk.

"Please yourself. Apparently, you broke the brains of half the male student body. Did you really kick off your shoes and dance barefoot?"

"Damn skippy I did. Heels are hard to dance in, and as far as their little minds, they're children. Male children at that."

Stefan sipped his coffee, testing the temperature. "That's sexist."

Matti fixed him with a cranky stare. "When half the female students feel free to speculate on your attractiveness, come see me."

Stefan nodded. "Yeah, but see, that wouldn't bother me."

Matti made the 'chalk-mark' gesture with a forefinger. "Point to me."

Stefan settled on the office sofa. "So, are we approaching the fail safe point?"

She exhaled, her cheeks puffing out. "Close."

"Are we gonna make the call?"

Matti waved a hand. "I'm not ready for that just yet."

"So, what do we do?" Stefan scratched the back of his neck.

Matti rubbed a hand over her face. "I'm thinking… maybe we should expand the circle of knowledge."

Stefan's eyebrows arched. "We tell them?

"Maybe not them." Matti shook her head and looked at her shoes. She leaned forward and flicked away a speck from the toe of her white Adidas. "Maybe him."

"Gerard?"

"He already knows pretty much everything about us anyway, just like we know pretty much everything about him."

Stefan considered this. "I see where you're going, but I'm not sure I'm there yet."

"We're getting toward the end game, I mean, can't you feel it? I'm not comfortable withholding critical information from people we might have to depend on."

"Are we comfortable sharing with people who might not react well to finding out said critical information?"

Matti nodded. "True, but I'd rather risk that than put them in harm's way without knowledge."

Stefan took a large gulp of coffee. "Well, we probably need to figure it out sooner rather than later."

"After school today?"

He grimaced. "Not that sooner. Let's give it forty-eight hours, okay? Well, the whistle's about to blow, so I gotta go." He drained his cup and dropped it in the trash. "And he scores."

Matti cocked an eye at him. "Don't even try to taunt me like that."

Cordelia closed her American History textbook. She hadn't really been able to concentrate on it, anyway. For the last few weeks, she had established a routine: since Matti arrived at school early, Cordelia rode with her and went to the student lounge. Matti had offered to let her use the office, but Cordelia had looked at her coach and said, "No offense, but we spend enough time in the same space, and that doesn't even smell like sweat socks." Matti had raised her hands and walked away, so Cordelia went to the lounge and used the time to finish homework or review completed assignments.

Today, though, it didn't matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't. Every time she tried to focus on causes of the Great Depression, the events of Saturday night filled her head and pushed out everything else. In a sixty-second span, her life had changed, a future opened to her. Matti had explained to her that it wasn't technically a cheerleading scholarship (D-III schools didn't do that), but a financial aid package: some of it was athletic grant-in-aid, some was a school academic scholarship, some was a need-based grant… that part stung, but Cordelia bit down hard and nodded. Truth was truth… she was as need-based as anyone now. By the time Matti got it all outlined, the upshot was that, if she kept her nose clean, her grades up, and her cheering on point, she would have to borrow a few thousand dollars a year, but she would be a student at Wainwright. "And," Matti ended with a flourish, "it's within walking distance of the beach." Cordelia had mumbled her thanks, then stumbled into the bedroom, sat on the bed, and cried.

She was feeling a little choked up now. She blew out a breath, causing her hair to flutter, and glanced at the clock. The bell was about to ring, which would thankfully put an end to this pathetic studying charade. She jammed the book in her backpack, which she settled on her shoulders, walked down the two steps out of the lounge, turned left…

And ran smack into Xander. Each of them took a step back, then Cordelia took a half-step to her right, but Xander had already taken a half-step to his left. Cordelia zigged back to her left, only to find herself face-to-face with him again. Their eyes locked.

"And now we're cha cha-ing." A silly, embarrassed smile crossed his face. He took a step back and swept a hand to one side. "You pick a lane. I'll just stand here." Cordelia rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and stepped around him. "Hey," Xander said. She looked back over her shoulder. "We, uh, we have an extra seat at the table… at lunch… if you're interested."

"My, this weather is just outstanding." Mayor Richard Wilkins buttoned his jacket and looked up at the sun. "Spring is just such a wonderful time of year, so full of… potential." Nicholas stood with his hands clasped in front of him. The enormous man did not acknowledge the mayor through either word or deed. Wilkins looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, let's get on with it."

The Mayor's footsteps echoed on the metal stairs: his giant chief of security's steps sounded like bells. The harbormaster's office was a spare rectangle with lots of windows that looked out over the docks. It contained a metal desk and chair painted in the shade Wilkins thought of as 'public office gray-green', and the walls held maps, lots of maps. A shelf along the right-hand wall overlooked the water and held a large beige computer monitor and the bulky rectangle of the CPU. The harbormaster stood in front of one of the windows, wearing a headset and mic wired into an old radio with a slanted front and large dials.. He looked over his shoulder as the mayor entered.

"Uh, listen, Jerry, make sure that pier is cleared out before anybody takes lunch. Yeah, I know the union rules, that's why I want you to start now so we don't run into lunch, capisce? Right. Lemme know if anything else comes up. Gotta go." He grimaced as he removed the headset; he had clipped the cable to the front of his shirt to give himself some slack. It took an extra minute to undo. Finally free, he gestured to the visitor's chair on the civilian side of the desk.

"Mayor Wilkins," he said. "Nobody told me you were coming by."

"Well, that's because I didn't tell anybody." The Mayor settled into the chair, shifting slightly as though the vinyl covering might be a bit toxic. Nicholas remained just inside the door, as large and silent as any of the cabinets.

The harbormaster shrugged. "Okay, that saves somebody a chewin'. What can I do for you?'

Wilkins crossed his right leg over his left. "In a few weeks, there will be a ship coming into port. Now, everything will be normal and above-board, but there will be one item in the cargo that will not be on any manifest or shipping log. I need you to notify me directly when that item arrives in Sunnydale."

The harbormaster frowned. "Well, we kinda run on paperwork and rules here. I… I don't wanna do anything shady."

The Mayor waved a hand. "I assure you, this is the farthest thing from shady." He planted both feet on the floor and leaned forward. "Honestly, it's… The Natural History Museum has been in very high-level negotiations to obtain a very rare… well, I probably shouldn't say exactly what, but it will be a real coup for Sunnydale to be able to display it."

The harbormaster nodded. "It's just that lots of different people don't look too kindly on unlisted items, shipments. It's kinda close to piracy, which we, for obvious reasons, are not in favor of."

Wilkins nodded. "Understood, perfectly, and, normally, I would be completely sympatico with your concerns. It's just that these have been very, very delicate negotiations. I'm sure you understand, and I'm also sure you understand how I, as the mayor, would be extremely grateful if we could facilitate this transaction."

"How grateful?"

"Well, let's just say that, since I am asking you to keep this arrival off the books, it would only be proper that any appreciation shown would also be incognito." The harbormaster pursed his lips and the Mayor sighed. "What's not on the books cannot be reported, either to international authorities or to the IRS."

The chair's springs squeaked as the harbormaster leaned back. "Would this need to be reported to the IRS?"

Wilkins shrugged. "Considerations of this size usually are." He patted his hands on his knees and stood up. He took a small folded piece of paper from his inside pocket. "I won't take up any more of your time. When the ship arrives, when you find the nonexistent item, call City Hall, then punch in that extension. It bypasses the phone tree and takes you directly to my private line."

The harbormaster took the offered note. "I haven't agreed to anything."

"Of course you haven't." The Mayor tapped his nose with one index finger. "I look forward to hearing from you."

Buffy bopped through the library doors and hoisted her backpack onto the counter. "Hey, Giles, where's your buuuudddddy?"

Her Watcher looked up from the catalog. "What on earth was that?"

The Slayer frowned. "I don't know… I think it was Paulie Shore, maybe." She stuck out her tongue. "Sorry. It even felt wrong in my mouth."

"Well, it certainly didn't do my ears any favor." Giles placed his pen down on the page and looked at the Slayer. "How was the promenade?"

Buffy's shoulders slumped as her eyes rolled. "I get it, you think prom is dumb. Do you have to call it 'promenade' every time just to drive home your point?" She shook her head and squared her posture. "It was, frankly, surreal… and I'm using that word correctly. I don't just mean 'weird' or 'strange', I mean, like, in those dreams you have after you eat things that don't go together, like… pizza and chocolate milk." She tapped the counter with an index finger. "I even looked it up in the dictionary."

"What was so bizarre?" Giles asked, settling his glasses and taking a seat on his stool.

"What wasn't? I mean, walking into prom knowing that Indali meant to blow it up, and nobody else knew it, Oz and Willow broke up in the most civilized way possible, Harmony got crowned queen right in front of Cordelia and there was no bloodshed, there was even a prom to crowned queen of because Cordelia went Walking Tall on Indali, Xander… I don't know what he did, but I think he might have apologized to Cordelia." She shook her head. "It was, like, a bunch of stuff that kinda had to happen, but didn't happen in the way you expect."

Her Watcher touched a finger to his lips. "And this has brought you to the library at the end of the school day?"

"Excuse me for having thoughts." The Slayer gave him a sour look. "I just wondered if maybe you and Gerard might have uncovered some knowledge, but…" She extended a hand in a 'here you are' gesture.

Willow dumped ice cubes into the glass and waited for the soda to stop fizzing. Her eyes wandered idly over the Ice cube tray. She hadn't performed the fire-out-of-ice spell in a long time; she'd gotten so wrapped up in the Never Never that it had slipped her mind. She placed a paper towel on the counter and put an ice cube in its center. As she thought about trying the spell for grins and giggles, she glanced at the door of the microwave and saw her face–

And she was in. There was a moment of shock and bewilderment… had she just entered the Never Never at random? No, that wasn't possible… she had been thinking about magic when she looked at the glass door… did that do it? Maybe… The weird glare, the washing-out effect from Saturday night pushed in at the edges of her visions. Willow ignored as best she could and slowly looked back at the counter…

And felt a burst of awe and elation. As she stared at the ice cubes, she suddenly understood the heart of the fire-out-of-ice spell… No, that wasn't right… She concentrated and realized that what she could do, what she could see in the Never Never, was the fire contained in the ice. Asked to explain it, she would have been stumped, but she knew that's what she was looking at… the components of the ice cube rather than its totality. She took a moment to steady herself, then studied what she saw. If she could just reach in and push…

Willow staggered against the countertop and wrinkled her nose. She shook her head to clear the acrid smell, then noticed the sooty smudges on the soaked paper towel.

"Whoa," she said.

Angel stayed deep in the shadows. The shadows in the shipyard moved around the edges of the yellow pools of light cast by the security light, move and countermove as one group tried to go about their business as though they were not aware of the second group, which tried to remain hidden in spite of the nagging thought that the object of their surveillance was perfectly aware of their presence.

Angel ignored both of them. His attention was focused further out, past the perimeter. There was a presence there as well, harder to detect, but discernible if you knew where to look… and smell. He slipped to a better vantage point and realized that there was a fourth cadre. Eyes narrowed, he took his time moving through the deepest shadow. At first, surveillance on the docks had seemed to be the round end of the stick, but now it seemed very relevant.

Buffy crouched on the flat roof of the hardware store. The vantage point gave her a good view from Peaceful Meadows Cemetery across Oak Park to Sunnydale General. From here, she could see the three vampires slip across Peaceful Meadows' manicured grass and cross the street, then veer away from the hospital.

"Ah, crap, you guys," she muttered, heading for the back of the building. As she slid down the drainpipe, she performed a quick mental calculus. If they weren't going to the hospital for blood, they were probably out for fun, which meant Ruggs Field, which, given the extremely pleasant weather this spring night, would be full of UCS students, maybe even a fair amount of SHS attendees. The Slayer landed lightly on her feet and trotted to the mouth of the alley. The vamps were moving out of the glare of the street and hospital complex and into a band of shadow. Once they cleared that, they'd be pretty close to Ruggs Field, not so close that she couldn't take them without any collateral damage, but close enough that even the hormone-addled throng could fail to notice her. She put her head down and sprinted across the street.

She caught up to them just before they left the zone of shadow. "Hey, guys, wait up," she called. The vamps turned to see the Slayer bent over, hands on knees. "Gimme, gimme a minute to catch my breath, okay?" she gasped. The monsters stared at each other. "Ow, ow, I gotta, I think I gotta stitch in my side."

The puzzled vampires took a few steps toward her. She threw her head back, hands on hips and lifted her knees. "Wow, that was, that was a long run."

The vampires charged. Buffy reached back and pulled a stake from her waistband. "Oh," she said, "I'm better." The vamps came to a skidding halt. "I can't believe you fell for that," the Slayer said. "You guys are too easy."

"Here comes the little bird." Matti's night vision goggles followed Herve Calderon's ghostly, green-tinted progress across the parking lot. "And he is in the car."

"Any playmates?" Stefan's voice was slightly tinny in the earpiece.

"I make two at eleven o'clock and two at one o'clock. The usual quartet."

"Okay. When he's in the house, I'll head your direction. See you at the rendezvous."

"Yup." Matti got up from her prone position and stretched, twisting at the waist. "Be nice to get a little exercise before we check in."

"Roger that. See you in twenty." The earpiece went silent. Matti unslung the suppressed H&K MP5 and moved out, keeping to the shadows lest the good citizenry of Sunnydale be taken aback by a figure clad all in black carrying a submachine gun through their neighborhood.