For those of you who have been so patient with me, thank you very much. I apologize for the long time it has taken me to update. Real life, fickle Muse. The hardest thing to do in this world is to live in it, right?
House of Cards
As she rehearsed the carefully worded explanation for why there was a Wesley rather than a Wesley's body, the Cordelia reflected in the polished metal door stared back at her with a dubious expression. Casting a determined glare atthe hazy twin, she turned away and returned to the chair she had rolled out of the morgue. No sense standing in the hallway while Wolfram and Hart's minions worked their mojo and raised the dead. The gang would be furious with her, would most likely put her in a corner with the words idiot painted on her forehead. She was hoping they'd be too shocked by his return to second-guess her choice too much.Regardless of what happened, she knew any one of them would have bargained with the Armani clad devil if it meant getting their Watcher back. None of them were strong enough to walk away and leave Wesley lying there without life or breath. He hadn't deserved to die.
Putting off the commandos for another hour had been surprisingly easy, citing paperwork and the red tape delays that were the status quo of health care. They had their hands full trying to figure out what to do when the general populace of Sunnydale was besieged by demons and the pair of clean-cut Marines sent to collect the body had seemed relieved that they would have extra time to coordinate with the hospital administration to prepare them for what was coming. Seeing her sitting in the hallway, cheeks streaked with charcoal tears, had been enough persuasion for them to put her pickup at the bottom of their list. When they returned, sunset would be bearing down on them and they wouldn't have time to ask too many questions about why there wasn't a body. With the gang together again, she had no doubt they could figure out what kind of fast one the Senior Partners were trying to pull this time.
"Ms. Chase?" Lindseysmiled cordially, the morgue doors swinging shut behind him.
"Is he?"
"Just a little longer. The shamans are very optimistic."
"And he won't be a zombie, right? No wanting to eat our brains." Cordelia grimaced at the thought.
"One hundred percent zombie free. He might be disoriented for a while and sometimes they suffer from dizziness and nausea. The shamans will give him something to help with that. I can assure you that it's all perfectly safe, mostly herbs with a bit of mystical mumbo jumbo thrown in for good measure." He smiled again. "You made the right decision, Ms. Chase."
"And I'm sure you're getting more out of this than you're letting on."
He made no attempt to deny it or act surprised. "That doesn't seem to bother you."
"We know all your tricks, Lindsey." Cordelia's shrug was deliberately casual. "You're probably thinking that we're all going to die soon anyway, so why not pretend to play nice?"
"The possibility has occurred to us." He scuffed one polished shoe over the tile floor, hands tucked into his pockets.
Cordelia watched him for a moment, trying to decide if asking more questions would be worth the annoyance of having a conversation with him. The more information she could get, the better her odds that the gang wouldn't be too angry. "Why did you come back, Lindsey? I thought you were done with Wolfram and Hart."
"No one ever leaves Wolfram and Hart. Binding contract even after death." His eyes were focused on the floor, pretending to be interested in the patterns of the tiles.
"I'm sure you could find a way to get out of it. You were always good at that."
Lindsey glanced up with wry smile, "It's one of those cases where the cure is worse than the disease. For starters, no one lives through it. Only three people have ever broken their contract and Wolfram and Hart has been around for a very long time."
"Then it can be done." Cordelia smiled with a small amount of triumph. "Fred and I went over Lilah's contract a hundred times and never found anything."
"You have to know where to look." He answered dispassionately.
"So what was Lilah up to? Wanted more than a corner office with a view and decided to skip the corporate ladder?"
"That's one way of putting it." A quick glance at his watch seemed to reassure him and he leaned back against the wall, "Do you remember three blind kids a few years back? I helped you and Angel save them from Vanessa Brewer."
"And got a big fat promotion for it."
"Wolfram and Hart batted zero that inning, thanks to you and Angel, but they kept their eyes and ears open for anything about the kids. They're teenagers now and so far, haven't seen much. But they saw something that Lilah noticed, the end of an Age of Man. Not the end of the world, just a shift in power that'll put human beings on the bottom of the totem pole again. There have been dozens of these shifts in the history of the earth, hundreds even. What makes this one different is that it wasn't supposed to happen for another five hundred years." Lindsey crossed his arms thoughtfully, his eyes focused somewhere behind her. "There were signs, of course. Earthquakes, storms, the usual, but there was one that wasn't out of Revelations. Three Slayers. But it's not just the number, it's the Slayers themselves."
Cordelia frowned, "Lilah didn't mention knowing anything about three Slayers. She seemed just as surprised as the rest of us."
"Lilah knew more about this mess than she let on to you or the Senior Partners. That's where Wesley comes in. Anything he's learned could help us figure out what Lilah was planning. Has Cara been particularly interested in anyone? Known something that no one else could know? Behaved strangely?"
"She's not exactly the picture of mental health so strange is kinda the status quo." Cordelia bit her lip as she tried to sort through what he was telling her. A stray thought pricked at her uncomfortably but refused to make itself clear. "Why trap us in the basement?"
"That was for your protection. We had every reason to believe that Lilah's endgame was to kill all of you. As I told you before, we may not like Angel but we're not looking to see him turn into dust any time soon. As long as he stays out of our sandbox, we'll stay out of his, that was the deal he made with the Senior Partners after you woke up." Lindsey pushed away from the wall, taking a few short steps toward the doors of the morgue. "You don't have to believe any of this. But believe me when I tell you that our main concern is Lilah. She is dangerous, maybe even more dangerous than Angel."
"Nothing like a loose cannon who knows all your dirty secrets."
He paused for a moment, blue eyes unreadable as he watched her. "I won't lie to you.When we get Cara, it won't be pretty. We'll start by strapping her down and taking her mind apart piece by piece until we find what we need and if we have to rip the information out of her, we will. There might be torture involved; would you like an invitation?"
"Please, I wouldn't waste my time." Considering his blunt admission of what they had planned for Cara, Cordelia began to wonder if Lindsey was actually telling her the truth. Maybe this time it wasn't about Angel or any of them. Maybe it really was Wolfram and Hart trying to regain control of one of their own, doing damage control after discovering that their most valued employee had stabbed them in the back. How much of it had been part of Lilah's plan? All those years, all that time spent waiting and plotting her own revenge against everyone who had wronged her.
The silk of his suit whispered quietly as he shifted, "It's none of my business, but won't the high and mighty Angel take exception to handing over the Slayer?"
"Wesley is more important, let the pieces fall where they may." She answered. "There's enough to worry about without the chance of a Slayer stabbing us in the back. Trust me, there's no love lost here. You're probably saving him the hassle."
"Our Slayer hasn't made friends then. I'm not surprised, Lilah never was a team player." Arms crossed as he mused over a private memory, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Even when she was ahead, she was always looking for the edge.
"If you ever find out why she did it, Wes will probably want to know." Cordelia paused, "Not that I want you anywhere near him or anyone I've ever met ever again, you know how it is."
The enigmatic smile returned; accompanied by a subtle head tilt. "You enjoy wearing those Mama Bear shoes? Don't you think they're a little big for you? And a little useless. That gang of yours has proven to be fairly resilient."
"They're very good at trying to help people and getting stabbed in the back for their trouble." She bristled at the condescension in his words.
"Touche." Lindsey shrugged. "You could do with a little grouptherapy. The whole Shanshu miscommunication could have been avoided years ago if Angel had actually told you everything. There's no free lunch and he wasn't willing to pay the price."
Cordelia narrowed her eyes, anger beginning to flicker behind them. "I know all your tricks. Drop a few lies here and there to confuse us and turn us against each other; that's your favorite game, isn't it? But I'm not playing and unless you want to find out firsthand what my demon half does, I suggest you don't go there."
Her retort seemed to amuse him. "Do you even know exactly what that demon half does? Why the Powers That Be made you half demon? That's the problem with all yougood guys.You forget the details, the fine print. You never ask the right questions."
"Don't you have a resurrection to supervise?"
"You're probably right." He turned toward the double doors, stopping as he placed his hand against the metal to push them open. "I was just trying to help you figure it out, Cordy. Just trying to help."
"That's what Lilah always said." The nagging at the back of her mind began to take shape, becoming more and more unsettling as it crystallized. "Wait a minute. Why do you even need Cara? Why not just ask Lilah herself? You've got that binding contract and all. Why not just haul her back here and ask?"
"That's the problem." Lindsey's smile turned wooden. "She's number three."
Spike could see pity in Buffy's serious expression, watching her hands as they gently but firmly checked Cara's injuries. The gauze pad pressed against the wounds in her neck was crimson with blood, darkening and stiffening as the thick liquid dried. He marveled at the smooth efficiency as Buffy stripped away loose and worn bandages from burned skin and replaced them with fresh sheets of gauze, taping them firmly around Cara's limbs. Skulking in the corner of the military transport vehicle was Angel, silently and apprehensively watching the unconscious Slayer.
"Seems like a lot of work for someone they're just going to kill." Spike went for blunt, unable to think of tactful way to phrase the sentence. Buffy didn't answer, still focused on the task at hand and the only response from Angel was a tired shrug. "So that's it? Just going to let them stick her with a needle?"
"If you have a better option, I'd love to hear it." Buffy shook her head wearily. "I've searched my brain until I can't think any more or risk my head exploding. We can't save her, we can't fix her. Giles is right, this is the best option."
"But not the only option."
"Would you rather she spend the rest of her life in a padded cell?" Angel winced as he stretched his shoulders.
"I don't know." Spike leaned back against the cool metal of the Hummer with a sigh. "It's just that…I mean, look at her." There was silence. Three pairs of eyes tried to take in the blood, the burns, the bruises darkening and others fading. Tried to make the girl lying on the floor of the vehicle a little bit less of a monster, tried to find enough pity or compassion to overcome the fear and pain.
Spike knew that Angel's mind was set and had been since she'd attacked Wesley that morning. In the vampire's mind, Cara was already dead, just a corpse walking around until it could be safely put into the ground for the worms. The pragmatic ice in Buffy's voice meant that she would side with Giles and Riley, that she would cut her losses and sacrifice her own desire to save another Slayer for the protection of others. The greater good. Even he had to admit that letting Cara slip away into death and finally be freed of a life too dark to be believed would be the kindest course of action. But. There was always a but. Part of him looked down at burns and blood and saw someone who had clawed for every inch of her life, someone who deserved a chance to keep doing just that.
"Guess all that redemption bullshit only applies to vampires with souls." He pushed the button deliberately and raised an eyebrow defiantly at Buffy's annoyed look.
"It's not that simple, Spike."
"Isn't it? You fight, you earn a get out of Hell card, and ride off into the sunset. Isn't that how the story goes?"
"I don't know. How'd you get yours?" Angel scowled in the dim light. "Some good fairy waved a magic wand and gave you a heartbeat. You didn't earn it."
"Feelin' like you got the short end, mate? About bloody time if you ask me."
"No one's asking you, Spike."
"I'm sayin' it's not our choice. We can't damn her to Hell."
"Someone has to. Would you rather let her go on killing?" Angel taunted.
"Were you two always like this?" Buffy interrupted, trying hard not to smile. "You're like children. Or an old married couple. And that…well, other than the whole mental of you..."
"Don't go there." Angel cut her off quickly and ignored the teasingly speculative grin.
"Point is that she deserves a shot at redemption just like the rest of us. If she wants it. Has anyone thought to ask her?" Spike held up a hand to forestall any protestations. "I've killed a helluva lot more people than she has and so has Angel. You can't treat it like a scorecard and once there are so many marks, you're out of the running."
"We're out of time, Spike." Buffy answered softly. "There's nothing we can do for her."
"There's your problem. All of you, wondering what you can do to fix her. You bloody can't do it for her, she has to fight her own battles."
"But she doesn't even understand that."
"Doesn't she?" Spike motioned to Angel. "Sounds like she's got a pretty good grip on what's going on around here."
"She doesn't want to be saved, Spike."
"Right. And that's why you kicked her ass. Look at you, you can barely be annoying and there's no bloody way I'll believe you bested her in a fair fight." Deliberately mocking, he shook his head, "If she wanted to kill you, you'd be dead."
"She's hardly in mint condition herself. Maybe she wanted to die." Angel stared down at his hands as though his burned skin held the answers.
"That means she's hurting and that means she can be saved. A little nudge in the right direction and…"
"She's not Faith." Angel met his eyes for the first time, almost sympathetically.
"We have other problems, guys." Buffy reminded them gently. "We can put her on ice and tie her down until all this blows over if we have to but we're facing some tough decisions." The unspoken worry in her voice was easily recognizable as concern for her remaining family and friends.
Remembering Dawn and the others was sobering, weighing heavily on the passengers and preventing any further discussion. Spike kept his mouth closed, eyes staring at his hands without focusing or really seeing. Buffy kept busy by adjusting and perfecting the bandages taped over Cara's wounds, as though straightening the strips of cloth would straighten the world around them. Make the lines between good and evil burn bright and distinct, washing away the murky gray that continuously poured in around them like the sand of an hourglass.
Unintelligible squawking from radio headsets, wheels thumping over speed bumps and seams in the structures beneath them, and the faint awareness of being swallowed up into the belly of the earth meant they had reached their final destination. The world took an few seconds to come to rest after the vehicle stopped and the occupants of the Humvee braced themselves for the unknown turmoil outside the sheltering steel womb. Light and chaos came in a flood, a torrent of sound and brightness tearing through the back of the vehicle to drag them out into uncertain futures. Voices shouted familiar words that hung weightlessly and meaninglessly in the air, just moments of noise scattered and lost forever.
Buffy was the first one to recover, leaping smoothly from the back of the cargo bed, her voice raised in the melee to give orders and lending her own shoulder as they bumped and dragged the makeshift gurney into the military base. To Spike, it looked as though Cara had been wrapped in silk and was being carried away delivery style to a waiting spider deep within the earth. Angel crept to the edge of the light, blinking and shying away involuntarily to hide his disfigured skin. With as much reluctance as he could muster, Spike kept one hand hovering just behind the vampire's elbow as they climbed out the vehicle. There was no thank you, no acknowledgement, and once feet were firmly planted on the ground he shoved his hands deeply into his jeans pockets.
With the bustle and drone of a fully operational beehive, the Genesis base was an impressive tableau of light and metal. Everywhere he turned, the sheen and glisten of modern technology left him wondering if he'd been propelled centuries into the future. The fact that nearly every one of the residents was armed seemed surreally ordinary. Spike didn't have to be a vampire to sense the approaching sunset. He could see it in the faces of the scouting teams and plain clothes units returning to the base with truckloads of supplies. Food, medical gear, and more weapons. Darkness was coming despite the brilliance of the florescent lighting they were bathed in and even though eyes were blind to its descent, the parts of them that remembered ages lost in fire and struggle could still feel the creeping advance of night.
They didn't truly understand that this one would be different. That morning would bring a wave of uncertainty, if morning survived the night instead of dying in a battle still unpredicted. According to Buffy, halfway across the world, the Watcher's Council was a frantic buzz of information being relayed from every part of the globe. The demons were coming. Vampires, in particular, were flocking toward Sunnydale as they had the most to gain from elimination of their natural predators. In the background, the hospitals of neighboring towns were quietly gearing up to deal with the fallout of an event they had no information about. Just a command from the Department of Defense to be ready for anything and not to waste time asking questions. Strike teams were still trickling in, those who would not return to Sunnydale before nightfall would stay outside the perimeter and do what they did best
An older gentleman caught his eye, stiff backed and crisply military, the man seemed to soften around the edges as Buffy spoke to him. Quick hands moved lightly to check Cara's pulse with the ease of someone who had done it countless times. Blonde hair bobbed as Buffy nodded in response to a question from one of the retrieval team members and Spike was again struck by how perfectly she fit into the role of leader. How she had finally grown into the shoes she'd been forced to wear. Knowing just how far she'd come, it was hard not to feel a little pride at seeing the final product.
"She's done well." To the side, Angel echoed his unspoken thoughts.
"That's our girl." The bustling crowd seemed to weave and buckle, making way for Riley Finn as he made a line for Buffy and Cara. Spike let out an involuntary sigh, "This ought to be fun. Last time I saw Finn he…well…it wasn't over beers and a blooming onion."
"Yeah." Angel shrugged. "I kicked his ass. Think he's forgiven me?"
That was all they had time for idle chit chat before Riley turned his gaze toward them and closed the distance with a few long steps. "Angel. Spike. There's a med team waiting for you, Angel. They'll see what they can do about those burns." Angel managed to stammer an awkward thank you, standing motionless at Spike's side.
"Look, I'm not interested in rehashing the past. What's done is done and frankly, none of us got the girl, so there's really no issue here."
"Right." Spike nodded in agreement. The three men remained there for several moments, silent and awkward.
"I still don't like you." Angel finally broke the silence.
"And I hate both of you. Now get your vampire ass to the med unit so you can be useful some time in the near future." Riley nodded vaguely to the left. "And you, Captain Peroxide, you've got a wife who'll break every bone in my body if I don't send you her direction. Try the training complex. Level two. Might even recognize it."
"Thanks." Spike answer dryly.
"And try not to break anything."
Spike bit back a laugh as Riley disappeared back into the crowd, exchanging a knowing look with Angel before he set out to follow the tiled hallways in search of Faith. He was anxious to see that she had made it into the base safe and sound, hopefully with Summers junior and the rest of the gang in tow. After only one false door, he found the training complex and slipped in. Like the rest of the base, it was humming with activity as soldiers trained or organized equipment, spreading out long-term supplies in neatly aligned rows. Staying along the edges of the room and out of the way, he craned his neck to see through the chaos and find the familiar dark brown hair. Even expecting to see her, he was unprepared for what he found.
Faith was crouched next to a small boy who couldn't have been more than four years old, carefully and patiently instructing him in the propergrip to wield a wooden stake. Getting closer, he noticed a very pregnant woman sitting a few feet away, her face beaming with pride as she watched the boy studiously attack one of the practice dummies. Faith gave the boy a jubilant high five for staking the imaginary vampire and Spike smiled at the terror on her face when the child wrapped his arms around her neck in an awkward but sincere hug.
"She'll be a wonderful mother." The pregnant woman smiled up at him and held out her hand. "Sam Finn."
"Davis Williams. More commonly known as Spike."
"You fit the description." Her eyes sparkled warmly, one hand rubbing her stomach absently as she turned back to the scene before them. "The little one's mine. Aaron."
"The other one's mine. Slayer by trade." Spike grinned when he caught Faith's rather frantic look and shook his head when she mouthed the words Help me over the boy's head.
"Riley wanted us to stay out of the way but I'm restless and Aaron was bouncing off the walls. He was so excited to meet another Slayer, you'd think it was Christmas. Buffy's his hero."
"Seems like a good kid."
"He's wonderful. Being a parent changes everything." She waved at her son when he turned around. "You're probably getting a taste of that already."
"Yeah." Spike pulled up a chair and settled in to watch. "World can be a pretty scary place when you've got little ones to protect." He was trying to be nonchalant about the barely contained worry that had doubled or tripled now that he was faced with being a father.
"It can be. But there's good in this world too and I wouldn't want Aaron to miss that for anything." Sam said thoughtfully. "And I know that if I do my job, he'll make the world a better place for the people he cares about."
"What about the baby?" Spike motioned to her obviously pregnant state. "Boy or girl?"
"I'm hoping for a girl." She was smiling proudly again.
The sound of giggling interrupted their conversation and Aaron squealed happily as he tried to get away from Faith, who was teasing him ominously about a Tickle Monster. Finally breaking free of his tormenter, he ran to his mother and threw himself at her legs, still grinning as he laid his head on her knees. Flushed and smiling, Faith winked at Spike before taking a seat on his lap.
"Hardly looks like preparations for battle, luv." He pressed a quick kiss to her lips.
Faith batted her eyelashes and gave him her best angelic expression, "It was touch and go for a while there. He's quick for such a little guy."
"And quite the escape artist." Sam added knowingly. "Besides, sometimes the best thing you can do around here is stay out of the way. Riley runs this base like clockwork. There will be plenty to do later." She stroked her son's hair lovingly.
"Reminds me, where's Dawn?" Spike glanced around to make sure he hadn't missed her.
"Stowed away in a bunk, Willow was planning to stay with her until Buffy's done making the rounds." Faith answered.
"And the rest of the gang?"
"The usual bureaucratic hold up at the hospital, don't know details, and last I heard Xander was running late; something about a cat."
"And you're sure there's nothing I can do? Fella could go crazy just sitting." He could see the same restlessness in Faith's eyes.
"Actually," Sam spoke up thoughtfully. "It couldn't hurt for you to see Dr. James, Faith, if you haven't started any prenatal care. And Riley may be prickly, but he can always use a hand with the lookouts. He knows that regular humans can only do so much."
"If I can be useful." Spike nodded.
"Don't let him tell you no." Sam smiled kindly. "I can show you the way to the med unit if you'd like, Faith."
"Can't hurt, right?" Letting go of Spike reluctantly, Faith stood up.
"I trust Dr. James with my life and my children's. Don't worry, you won't get any pampering from him and he won't tell you to take it easy."
"Thank god." Faith grinned with relief.
Spike walked with the trio as far as the hallway, squeezing Faith's hand one more time before she headed in the opposite direction with a small hand tucked into hers. He had to pause and watch her walk away, still awkward with the four year old but exhibiting an honesty and openness that he rarely saw in her. She had no idea how to handle the child but was hell-bent to do her best anyway. That was Faith.
It was a moment of respite from the chaos and it steeled his resolve to find a way to be useful. To do everything and anything in his power to make sure tomorrow came right on schedule and without losing anyone he cared for. Retracing his steps and asking a few questions along the way, he managed to find his way to the command center. Riley was standing by a large table, pouring over maps and diagrams of Sunnydale and the surrounding area.
"Wouldn't it be easier to initiate evacuation?" One of the younger marines queried.
"According to the teams coming in, the demons have set up a perimeter less than a hundred miles out and they're closing in using a rough net formation. If we evacuate now, we'll be sending them straight into the demons. Circling the wagons may be our only option at this point. The Mayor has agreed to the chemical or radiation leak idea and hopefully we'll get most of Sunnydale into the designated shelters. I've assigned a squad to each one of the shelters and, with the Council's help, the sanctuary spells should be in place by sundown."
"What should we tell the civilians?"
"Sunnydale PD has already been briefed and they're ready to adapt to whatever happens. Right now they're going to advise locked doors, lights off, and not inviting anyone in. If we can get the majority of the demons in one location, we've got enough firepower to make a dent and the National Guard is already on alert. The President is ready to authorize any force we need." He frowned for a moment before leaning away from the table. "I think we've done everything we can, let's make sure we stay on top of this thing." The tension in the room lessened slightly and the circle of uniforms began to disperse to pursue their individual roles in the night's power play.
"Spike!" Riley called out without looking up from the maps. "We're weakest on the south east. There's a lookout post there and my guys are good but they've never seen a real fight."
"On my way." Spike tried not to grin.
"One more thing." Riley finally turned toward him, dark eyes serious. "Step into my office for a second."
"Right." Spike tried not to feel like a schoolboy about to be reprimanded as he retreated into the office and Riley closed the door behind them.
"We have a problem."
"Other than the demon hordes lookin' to tear out our insides?"
"Such a way with words, that hasn't changed." Riley shook his head tiredly. "I'm looking at an inhuman war without any Slayers to fight it."
"I doubt Faith would appreciate being side-lined already."
"The baby is more important." With only a second of hesitation, Riley opened one of his desk's drawers and dug through the contents. He produced a small silver disk and held it out. "This may look familiar. A friend of yours sent this via the Coven,just in case."
"Just in case?"
"In case things go south here and you have to get Faith out in a hurry."
Spike frowned, "You should be giving this to Buffy."
"I know, that's my problem. If it starts to look bad here, I need you to get both her and Faith out of here. The Council is prepared for that contingency and this will take you to the safest place on the globe. Which I don't need to tell you, still isn't that safe."
"This is hardly going to go well with Chief Buffy."
"And she'll kill me for telling you this but according to our resident medical guru, there's a fifty-fifty chance that the in vitro worked and she's pregnant."
Spike stared at Riley, waiting for the punch line or the telltale smirk of a well-sprung practical joke, "What?"
"Even at half the odds, she's gone through too much hell to take a chance at losing a baby. I don't care if you have to tie her up. If things go bad here, you get her and Faith out."
The silver disk was surprisingly heavy in his palm when he took it from Riley's outstretched hand. "Why me?"
"Because you're the only one who has a clue how to deal with a pregnant Slayer." Finally a hint of humor twinkled in Riley's eyes. "And Angel tends to combust at very inconvenient times."
Images of a tiny hand clasped in Faith's fingers flashed across Spike's mind and he sobered quickly, "What about your family?"
For the first time since Spike had arrived at Genesis, Riley grinned, "Sam thinks she's staying here. Best to let her keep thinking that for a few more hours."
Vibrant green skin stood out against the darker greens and browns of the camouflage uniforms, red horns adding the final touch to a broad announcement that Lorne wasn't like the young marines around him. Although the dark blue leisure suit hardly blended into the speckled couture of a military base either and his resonant voice managed to be clear even with the hustle and bustle around him.
"Angel cakes! You're looking slightly this side of well done." Lorne maneuvered his way through the crowd with a few smiles and pardon me's, motioning for Angel to head to one side of the room.
"Lorne. I'm supposed to be in the med unit. I think I made a left when I should have turned right. Or something." Angel frowned at the hastily sketched map in his hands.
"And straight on 'til morning, my directionally challenged friend. You missed it by about two floors but never fear, I've got to get out of this racket before my brain crawls out my ears and makes for the border." Lorne directed him back through the door into the one of the seemingly identical hallways. With an audible sigh, he shuddered and gave the closed door a look of disgust. "You'd think they'd have a little sympathy for the demon with the migraine. That's the next generation? Is that doom I smell or just barbequed vampire?"
"You know where we're going, right?" Angel folded the map and tucked it into the breast pocket of his borrowed shirt. Next item of business was to find clothing without any palm trees or pink flamingos.
"Field doc checked me out when I came in, not that he knew what to look for but a real peach about it. I guess they don't get a lot of Pyleans around here." Lorne's smile faded but didn't disappear completely. "Have you heard anything about Wesley?"
"It's on my list of questions to ask. Right now I'm just following orders." Angel tried not to cringe when one of the medical staff took one look at him and dropped a box of supplies. "Not that I don't enjoy looking like a walking stick of jerky."
"You have seen better days but soon you'll be in the very best of hands. At least they caught our little wayward Slayer. So I hear. Please tell me it's true and that they have her somewhere chained down and drugged to her bloody little gills."
"We brought her in." Angel answered simply, stiffening and pulling away as a set of wide double doors swung open and the hallway was suddenly filled with lab coats and scrubs.
"Are you Angel?" One of the young men asked briskly, reaching for Angel's wrist.
"Yeah. Hey! Watch the…Ow!" Angel pulled away as the technician snipped off a piece of burned skin. "What do you think you're doing?"
The older gentleman from before waved them through the doors and into a spacious laboratory. "I apologize for the poor beside manner, Mr. Angel. I'm afraid it's a little chaotic around here and not likely to change. I'm Dr. James, resident physician in charge and general tyrant of all things medical here at Genesis. The buck stops here, if you may."
Angel rubbed his wrist gingerly, "A little warning would have been appreciated."
"We needed a sample to know how badly your tissue has been damaged so we can tailor the cocktail to suit your needs." Dr. James was the image of efficiency as he managed to bark orders to the entire lab staff, shepherding Angel and Lorne into a semi-private corner. "Take a seat so one of my assistants can attach the IV tubes."
"What exactly are you going to be doing?" Angel sat down uneasily and watched carefully as a nurse began swabbing the inside of his elbow.
"They're combat cocktails. They come in about as many flavors as alcoholic beverages but pack much more of a punch. We have mixtures designed for every condition. Malnourishment, dehydration, shock, poison. We can keep a heart beating long enough to repair damage that would have been fatal. Most are meant to be taken into the field and used in emergencies only. You're at the top of the Commander's list and that makes you an emergency."
"This will make me heal faster?" Angel winced as the first IV port slipped beneath his skin. The nurse started prepping his other arm. "How many of these things am I going to get?"
"Just three. One line will act as a blood recycler, pumping in enriched blood and exchanging the depleted blood." Dr. James glanced up from his clipboard. "In all honesty, we've never tried this on a vampire before so it's purely theoretical. It won't kill you but it might not do much either."
"Good to know." Trying to get comfortable in the chair without knocking over IV stands or tangling the tubes proved to be a challenge and he finally settled for keeping his elbows held at odd angles away from his body. "How long will it take?"
"We'll start with a halfhour and then run another sample. We'll tailor the mixture to suit your individual needs."
"Don't suppose you have anything with painkillers, Doc?" Lorne injected wryly. "Particularly for psychic reading induced migraines. You know, the kind where I get all these lovely images of hellfire and brimstone on a repeating loop through my brain. I'd rather listen to Angel sing Stairway to Heaven for eternity."
"Once your blood work is done, we might have something for you. Our pain cocktails aren't designed for your body chemistryand I like to know what I'm dealing with before I mix my drugs." The doctor gave them one more glance. "If you have no further questions, I have to see to Miss Summers."
"Is she alright? She wasn't injured when we came in." Angel blinked, his head was starting to get fuzzy.
"Just a checkup. It's protocol."
Once Dr. James had disappeared, the two might as well have been flies on the wall of the busy laboratory. Not a glance or a word were sent in their direction, each of the technicians busily working on what needed to be done before the base sealed its doors. Angel sunk back into his chair, his muscles relaxing even as he struggled to hold his head up.
"I think they put more than vitamins in this stuff." Angel closed his eyes.
"Most likely. It'll be good for you, my crispy friend. A little rest and relaxation amidst the chaos. Grab on with both hands and enjoy the siesta before the baddies get here." Lorne procured a desk chair and rolled himself into the corner beside Angel.
"Lorne?" His own voice sounded far away. "You said…something…about a headache."
"They most definitely put the fun juice in your bag."
"Buffy said you were with Cara. I think. It's a little…hazy."
For several long seconds, Lorne remained silent, his eyes looking somewhere far beyond the laboratory walls. Leaning closer to Angel, he lowered his voice to a near whisper. "A few sour notes but not the worst version of Row, Row, Row Your Boat I've ever heard."
"What did you see?"
Horns shifted as his brow furrowed with pained concentration. "Not a lot that makes sense. As if time skipped. Like a CD player in a car going over a speed bump. One second you're at the beginning of the song and the next, it's the ending chord. Nothing in between, like it never happened. She's here and then she's somewhere else. Some time else."
"You're not making any sense."
"It's not me who's cracked down the center." Lorne stared down at the floor. "Let me ask you a question, Champion O' Mine. What makes Slayers tick? What keeps them fighting day after day after endless day?"
"They're chosen." Angel answered weakly.
"Do you know why you fight? Why you keep trying?"
"To make a difference." He turned his head to look at Lorne with half open eyes.
"Is it worth it? Making someone else's life a little better. Saving an innocent person from their own stupidity or keeping this sorry world one step away from annihilation."
"Worth fighting for."
Lorne seemed to think about that carefully, as though turning it over and over as he tried to make the pieces fit together. "That's where she's different. You fight, Buffy fights, we all fight for things that make this world easier to bear. Goodness, innocence, and puppies. We fight for the bliss of the ignorant and the peace of the blind."
"For love. And friendship." Angel grinned, his head lolling to the side heavily in his drug induced relaxation.
"The good doctor must've given you the real deal." Lorne patted his shoulder indulgently.
"You didn't finish." Angel tried to nod but gave up when his neck refused to cooperate.
"It's subtle. A little twist here, a turn there. Like looking into a mirror and seeing the reflection of a Slayer." Lorne chuckled quietly at some private joke. "Through the glass darkly, into a Wonderland that Lewis Carroll never cooked up with any manmade hallucinogens. That's the rabbit hole our girl fell though. She's not looking for something worth fighting for. She's looking for something worth dying for."
"She was afraid." Angel managed to slur, his head spinning faster and faster. "Could taste it in her blood. Fear."
Red eyes focused on him with sudden intensity, "Run that by me again. You bit her?"
"Big bad Slayer…afraid of the dark." The room began to fade away and Lorne's voice fell into bits and pieces buried under the background noise.
It was only after she stopped trying that Dawn discovered the secret to slipping back into her human shell. There was a great deal of cringing, one-foot in-ing, and shaking all about. She was grateful no one else in the cosmos could see her haphazard attempts to reverse engineer a process she hadn't been conscious of in the first place. A few dozen heel clicks later and fervently hoping for no place like home, she finally decided to give up and pull up a seat of nothingness. The seat then decided to vanish and send her tumbling down through the stars.
The whoosh of the earth's atmosphere in her ears was the first thing she noticed, then her human heart pumping blood through her arteries with the thunder of stampeding elephants, and the hum of artificial lights in the background. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up with a start, banging her head into the blur of red hair hovering over her.
"Ow!" Willow reached for her forehead. "Dawnie! You're back! You are back, right? This isn't some weird sort of astral spasm?"
"Willow!" Dawn threw her arms around Willow's shoulders and hugged her tightly. "Where are we? Is Buffy here?"
"She'll be here as soon as she can." Willow sat down on the narrow bed, smiling happily. "So? What happened? Did you figure anything out?"
Dawn looked away; unsure of what she could tell anyone about where she had been and what had happened. "Not about Spike. I kinda forgot to ask about him, sorry."
"No problem. We're past the researching point and into the gearing up for battle phase. But you did find something?" Willow's quizzical gaze was unnerving.
"So…are we on lock down or can I wander about?" Dawn untangled herself from Willow's arms and stood up to stretch her back.
Willow tipped her head to one side. "You're different."
"That's silly. I'm still the same old Dawnie." Laughing nervously, she reached for the door and peered out into the hallway.
"Of course you are. Just glad to have to back." Willow smiled brightly as she stood up. "Tell you what, I'm going to go find Giles and do the brainy planning thing. I think Buffy had a date with Dr. James."
"Eww. He's way too old for her." Dawn jumped at the subject change.
"Thank you so much for giving me that happy mental image." Rolling her eyes, Willow headed down the hallway. "Make sure you check in with Buffy, she'll be anxious to know you're okay."
"Aye, aye Captain." With a mock salute, Dawn started in the opposite direction toward the medical wing, dodging uniformed guards along the way. Most of them knew her and managed a hello or a nod even as they hurried on their way. First things first, she had to find Buffy and make sure there was no more Big Sister worrying and then she had to figure out how she was going to get everyone in Sunnydale out of the pending apocalypse. "No biggie, right? I mean, we're the Scoobies, we avert apocalypses for fun and pleasure." Muttering under her breath so no one could hear the nonsensical ramblings of little Dawn Summers who wasn't, she darted in and out of Buffy's usual haunts, making her way in toward the command center.
"Find sister, find sister." She repeated the mantra over and over to keep her mind on track. It was harder than she thought to ignore the tug of the no longer dormant Key. Like a playful kitten, every bend and every fluctuation in the reality around her pricked at her mind and skin, demanding her attention. Finally she dodged her way through the crowd into the main loading dock and her eyes found the particular blonde ponytail she was looking for.
Buffy's back was toward Dawn, her arms folded tightly and shoulders visibly tense even from several feet away. The ponytail bounced violently as she gestured to someone. Sidling through themen working,Dawn strained her neck to get a better look and recognized the long brown hair and impatient expression of Cordelia Chase. The image seemed to blur for a moment and the familiar ping of a dimensional twist made her shiver. Blinking repeatedly, she pushed forward to get to Buffy. Beside Cordelia, a man wrapped in a blanket turned toward her, sharp blue eyes staring out of a pale face.
"Wesley?"
"Dawn!" The relief in Buffy's voice was palpable but she quickly reined it in and took a step toward Dawn.
Recognizing the classic maneuver as Buffy trying to keep Dawn a safe distance away from something she perceived as a threat, Dawn didn't come any closer and managed a slightly confused smile. "Hey guys."
"Group meeting in Riley's office in ten minutes, do you know where Willow is?"
"Looking for Giles."
"Good. I want you to head to the library, or whatever they call it, and get both of them."
"Sure thing." Dawn was a little disappointed that she hadn't received more of greeting. It wasn't like she had left her body and gotten stuck in the middle of the cosmos without knowing how to get back. That warranted a hug at the very least. When it was obvious that Buffy's attention was on those coming into the base and she wasn't going to be Sister Buffy until General Buffy was happy, Dawn began to retreat.
The invisible knot in space-time pricked at her again and she fought down the impulse to reach out and fix it. So there was a knot, so what? Nothing crazy was happening and she hadn't learned all the rules. Actually, she hadn't learned any of the rules. Better leave thingsalone unless there were chickens with alligator heads running around or vortexes opening up to swallow them all. She took one last look at Buffy and the others, thinking that Wesley looked like hell and Cordelia looked a little frayed around the edges.Taking a closer look at Cordelia, she realized that the description was literal rather than figurative. The edges of Cordelia's body were blurred and shifting as though she was a hologram projected onto the world. As if she didn't actually belong there. Dawn kept her mouth shut and hurried away from the trio as quickly as she could. Find Willow, find Giles, meeting in Riley's office. Find Willow.
"Damn monks." She muttered to no one. "They could have left a manual."
A string of lamps illuminating the equipment tables were the only source of light in the shadowed surgery bay. It was an auxiliary room, intended for use only when the main rooms were filled to capacity and they needed more tables than they had doctors. Quiet and out of the way, it was the ideal place to leave an unconscious rogue Slayer until Dr. James could get his team ready to operate. Doors were locked, surveillance cameras on, and a guard stood watch outside the door.
In the silence of the hallway, the young Marine tried to keep focused on the task at hand, guarding a locked door to a room that contained one sleeping girl. He'd heard from one of the lab technicians that the Council's drug was strong enough to kill a normal human being and would knock a Slayer out for a solid eight hours. Not that he had any intention of waiting for it to wear off.
Shifting in the chair and stretching his bad knee, Garrett glanced uneasily at the door to the surgery bay and took another deep breath. Wait for the signal. His hands itched to wrap around her neck and choke the life out of her while she slept. Maybe put his gun to her head and redecorate the room with her blood this time. Just as long as she was dead. That was what kept him sitting on the chair, waiting for the signal that all attention would be turned elsewhere just long enough for him to slip in and do what no one else was willing to do.
The drop of sweat trickling down his temple surprised him. He hadn't expected the plan to be a walk in the park but neither had he anticipated the thrill of adrenaline at the prospect of ridding the world of the Slayer. Leaning back against the cool wall, he relaxed deeper into the chair. He'd waited this long and a few more hours weren't going to be a problem.
In the room behind him, the silence was broken only by the hum of the table lights and whispers from computers tucked away beneath counter tops. A single electronic beep sounded quietly and rhythmically, charting a pattern on the screen that followed its charge's heartbeat. Steady, even peaks traced out again and again without variation. Following the thin wires from the monitor to the still form lying on the operating table, the woman's wounds had been thoroughly cleaned and bandaged by careful hands; the strip of gauze on her neck was just one more piece that blended unnoticed into a sea of white cotton. As a precaution, heavy leather restraints had been fastened over her chest and thighs. Ankles and wrists were also anchored to the heavy steel beneath her.
A casual observer might have missed the change in frequency or might have attributed the slight increase in heart rate to their imagination or a glitch. If they had noticed, they might have checked on the sleeping woman to make sure she was still safely unconscious. With everyone's attention focused elsewhere, there was no one there to notice as the beeps fluctuated. No one was worried about one girl who was supposed to be safely asleep and there was no witness when her eyes opened. She blinked several times, glancing around the empty room and down at the restraints keeping her on thesurgical table.
Only the flickering monitor saw the mirthless smile spread slowly across her lips.