Raison d'Etre

by Bigsciencybrain

It may not be riding off into the sunset but there is some happy and some ever after. UNDER CONSTRUCTION.

49. Payment In Full

Payment In Full

Buffy checked the clock on the wall, compared that to the time on her watch, and half-heartedly glared back at the clock. "Does no one listen to me anymore? Where is everyone?" There was no answer from Riley, who was still buried in blueprints and schematics of Sunnydale as he and his officers tried to predict and plan for every possible scenario. The chair creaked as she swiveled around, blew an errant strand of hair out of her eyes and continued to starw blankly around the room. So much for her well planned motivational pep talk. Well, sort of planned verbal kick in the pants for those who might need the kicking.

Riley finally looked up from his piles of blueprints and maps. "They'll show."

"I had a speech," Buffy said with mock gloominess.

"And I'm sure it was a winner." He hesitated for a moment before the guilty look in his eyes changed to resignation. "It's partially my fault. I have Angel in the med unit and sent Spike to a look out post…on the other side of the base."

She gave him an indulgent scowl and continued twirling in her chair. "How much longer before we have company of the nasty, pointed teeth variety?"

"Sunset is in less than an hour and it won't be long after that."

"I hope this is the last apocalypse until my fifteen year high school reunion, if there's anyone still alive to have one."

"Well, maybe they'll destroy the high school again." Riley tapped one of the maps with a frown. "We have covert surveillance there, figuring that the Hellmouth would act as a gathering place for all the creepy crawlies. Might get a better idea of what we're facing."

"Vampires, demons. One's pretty much like the next. Fight, kill, destroy the world…blah, blah, blah."

"Buff?"

With a heavy sigh, she swiveled around to face him. "What do you think they're going to do when they can't find any Slayers to kill? Make a campfire and sing Kumbyah?"

"Well…"

"They're going to tear this town apart, Riley. Maybe they'll wait a day or two but eventually they'll get hungry and start looking for someone to eat." She looked away, preferring to stare at the ceiling. "And then they'll kill everyone they can find until they dig us up. The longer we stay down here, the more innocent people die up there."

"We've taken as many precautions as we can to ensure the safety of the people in Sunnydale but you have to accept that lives are going to be lost."

"Are we really worth it?" She shook her head slightly.

"Don't talk like that, Buffy." Riley left the command table and sat down on the corner of the desk beside her. "You can't compare one to one. You, and Faith, have done so much for the rest of world. The human race needs you to survive and maybe it's not pretty or fair but it's the truth."

"Me and Faith." Buffy repeated softly. "But not me, Faith, and Cara. So that's only two of us against all those lives. Makes it worse. We're liabilities, Riley. How many more Slayers will go psycho?"

"You can't feel guilty for what she's done."

"Why not? I was the one who told her to figure it out for herself. I let her go." She shook her head quickly to cut off his protestation. "There's nothing I can do now. I can't save her and I can't fix her. And I can't bear knowing that she lives in hell every day because of me. Because I didn't realize that she couldn't do it on her own. I should have kept her here…I should have helped her."

"I know you wanted to. This isn't your fault."

"I just keep thinking that maybe, somewhere in there, she's not gone. Just lost and hurting and lashing out because she can't deal with how she feels. That maybe if we can just find a way to get through to her."

"Buffy." Riley laid his hand on her shoulder gently. "We're not talking about Cara anymore."

"Over empathize much?" She gave him a tiny smile.

"Just a little bit."

The conversation died, falling away into the background noise of electronics and quiet murmuring. Irritation at the low turnout aside, she was content to watch the activity around her. Final preparations were being made and more Plan Bs concocted should things go wrong. They could stay underground almost indefinitely but short of bombing Sunnydale into oblivion, that wouldn't take care of the demons waiting to eat them. She couldn't risk the people she cared about but she didn't want to be responsible for the death of an entire town either and her mind kept churning over the problem restlessly. If they left the base, even three Slayers couldn't stop what was waiting outside. Especially since one of the three was pregnant and another was going to die, one way or another, before the sun rose again.

"I am very sorry I'm late." Giles stumbled through the door with a pile of books and papers tucked under one arm, adjusting his glasses with the other hand. He glanced around the room. "Oh. Am I the only one coming?"

"You know the gang. They just can't wait to hear another motivational speech by Buffy," she answered tiredly.

"Well, if I'd known that was the purpose for this meeting." There was a twinkle in his eye as he settled his books on the corner of the desk.

"Giles."

"You know I wouldn't miss one of your speeches for the world. They're always quite…inspirational."

"Ha, ha." She pondered sticking her tongue out at him for a moment but decided that it probably wouldn't help her case. "I don't suppose you know if anyone else is going to appear."

"Willow intended to follow me here, she wanted to make sure Xander had arrived safely."

"And Dawn?" She could barely contain the relief at seeing her sister awake and moving about. Now she just needed to keep her that way.

"I gave her a list of references to find in the archives, I believe she's still working on them. I thought you might want to keep her out of the way until, well, until this blows over." He busied himself with arranging his papers.

"I'm never going to hear the end of it if she thinks she's been sidelined. Thanks a lot."

"Actually, she requested something to do. And she's quite good with the computers, much better than I am, I'm afraid."

"Well, I suppose I could give you and Riley the speech."

Riley headed back to the command table quickly. "I've got a few more charts to go over. Strategies, you know."

"Fine. No speech. Go do your Commando thing, Giles and I will discuss Slayer stuff."

Giles waited for Riley to get out of hearing range before taking a seat, "What exactly do we have to discuss, Buffy? I wasn't aware that anything had changed."

"We need a plan."

"I believe Riley has formulated quite a few of those."

"I mean a plan in which we do something other than stick our heads in the sand and hide." Buffy watched the expression on Giles' face go from surprised to disbelief.

"I hardly need to remind you that this current course of action is due to Faith and Cara's respective conditions. It's much safer to remain within the base and keep our eyes open. You can't mean to take some sort of offensive against the army of undead waiting to kill you all?" He blinked at her incredulously.

"I mean. And I need to pick your big strategy brain. I was hoping to get input from the whole gang but since it's just you, you'll have to do."

"Forgive me if I don't exactly find that flattering."

"What? You'd rather I take battle suggestions from Xander?" She gave him her best innocent look.

Giles reached for his glasses, "My big strategy brain is at your mercy."

"How long can we put off the Council before they start asking questions about Cara?"

"As long as we need to, I suppose. They're not exactly expecting us to be able to come and go as we please. Their concern is for the welfare of the people in close proximity to Cara. The last thing we need is a repeat of this morning." Giles paused in his polishing. "About Wesley…Dawn said he was here?"

"Was dead, isn't now." Buffy tried not to grind her teeth. "Cordelia wouldn't give me the specifics but Gunn looked ready to go demon hunter on her so I'm guessing it wasn't entirely a medical miracle."

"Oh. I see. Perhaps Willow should take a closer look at him."

"I was planning on asking her to do just that. If she ever shows up." She checked her watch with a sigh and reached for something to fiddle with, a paper clip or a pencil, anything to keep her hands busy. "We've got a lot of people to figure out what to do with and that's not counting Riley's men."

"I'm sure things will fall into place." Giles reassured her. "I have managed to obtain some information about how to kill some of the more unusual demons headed our way."

"Ooo! Fun new demons to slay." Buffy reached for the closest book. "Any dragons? I've always wanted a dragon."

"Very funny."

---

The scene was a garish blend of a hospital emergency room and a horror movie in which Frankenstein monsters of every possible combination were being stitched together and born into the world. While neither was true, both scenarios were too close to the truth for comfort and it took a certain level of scientific detachment to keep from drowning in the ethical gray of military medicine. The medical wing hummed with extraordinary activity and the novelty of having both a genuine vampire and a Deathwok demon in their midst. Dr. James cared little for noise around him, awaiting his third charge with military stoicism and brisk efficiency, eyes fixed on the charts that detailed the rogue Slayer's condition. Separating the men who had been at Genesis for her massacre from those who were new recruits was easier than dusting a vampire in the daylight. All he had to do was look for those who were dreaming about slitting her throat. It was a pity, Dr. James thought as he tapped his fingers lightly against the manila folder, that she had been reduced to mere spare parts.

"Doc?" The Slayer from Boston was jumpy as a cat; her luminous dark eyes speaking volumes about how unhappy she was to be there.

"Miss Hawkins. Just reviewing my files for the three of you." He motioned for her to follow him into his private office. Commander Finn had requested that he also look Faith Hawkins over for general health and begin a prenatal care plan. "How do you feel?"

"Tired. Comes with the territory." Faith tipped her head to get a look at the files in his hand. "Those are for Cara, right? She okay? I mean…there's not really a good question I can ask, is there?"

"She's fascinating." Dr. James answered her honestly. "We don't have a great deal of information about Slayers under severe physical trauma."

"Is she gonna be okay?" Faith was obviously uncomfortable surrounded by stainless steel and medical equipment.

"Okay is a relative term, Miss Hawkins. This will only take a minute and then we can talk about your baby." Dr. James led her into his office, closing the door and shutting out some of the noise. He quickly filed Cara's paperwork in his cabinet and removed the blank files waiting to be filled with Faith's information. Buffy's file was still waiting patiently on his desk for a break in the hectic pace when she could get a check up. He hadn't wanted to get her hopes raised unnecessarily but with the level of hormones in her blood he was optimistic that the in vitro had been successful.

"Davis." Faith corrected softly, cheeks coloring as she continued. "It's Mrs. Davis now. But not with the missus part cause that makes me feel all old and kinda freaky. How 'bout just Faith?"

"Faith it is." He gave her a small smile, noticing that she was still fidgeting uneasily. "The accommodations are less than welcoming, I'm sad to say. We don't do a lot of maternity work here."

"Are you going to cut her open? Cara." There was an audible wince in her voice.

"Not right now. It would be irresponsible to operate on her in this condition. She'll have to be stabilized first."

"Thought you were just going to kill her off anyway," Faith countered sarcastically.

"It's damage or contamination of the ovaries that I'm worried about." He settled into his chair and began filling out the basics, height, weight, and other information that had been forwarded from the Boston medical unit. "With a cursory examination, I found signs of dehydration and malnourishment. We'll start with a standard trauma drip easy on the sedatives, I don't want down time waiting for drugs to clear her system. She's not an animal and I don't intend to treat her like one."

In the background, he could hear the techs scurrying about the lab gathering necessary materials and test results; it struck him once again how markedly different the women were from each other and from the rest of the world. They were an exclusive club that was unknown and untouched by ignorant outsiders. For a moment he wished that there were a hundred more of them. A larger sample size would give them a better chance to learn what being a Slayer meant, what parts of them were their personalities and what part was the Slayer. How much of Buffy's soulful eyes and quiet strength would have been apparent if she was a normal woman? Would Faith still be as volatile? And would Cara remain the unbreakable cipher beneath all those scars? The very fact that her heart still beating with the power and determination of a plow horse was astonishing.

"Did you know she broke her right arm twice?"

"What?" Faith blinked with surprise.

"We didn't know it was possible either. Miss Summers has never broken any bones and neither have you, if my files are correct."

"They are."

"Part of the requirements for field work is a complete physical examination. X-rays, blood tests, the works." Dr. James hesitated for a moment, caught in the memory. "It was right after the incident here. I think there was still blood on her hands when I saw her. At the time I didn't fully understand what had happened or who I was dealing with."

"She's had a bitch of a time." Faith's tone softened and her eyes dropped to her lap.

That was another aspect that Dr. James longed to study. Was there a bond between Slayers? An unspoken understanding built on shared responsibilities or perhaps a more direct, even mystical, connection between the three of them. Would studying one Slayer give them real data about every Slayer or should they be treated as distinct individuals? He pushed the jumbled thoughts away. "It will be done as humanely as possible, I can promise you that."

Faith folded her arms protectively, and probably unconsciously, over her stomach. For someone who was defiantly blasé about her pregnancy, he had no doubt that she would move mountains to protect her unborn child. "When? Will it be tonight?"

"Time will tell. I'd like to keep an eye on her, see how she responds to the solution. Physiologically she's skating on very thin ice and Slayer or not, her body needs time to repair and rebuild. The energy it has to be directing toward healing those burns alone must be astounding. Our lab is well equipped to deal with the human body pushed to exceed limitations but it always takes time." He glanced at his watch and shuffled the schedule in his head. "We'll begin surgery as soon as I can be sure she's stable enough to proceed and then keep the ovaries on ice until they can be safely taken off base."

"I'd like to be here. When you…when you put her out. For good." She finally settled into one of the chairs. "We should be there, me and Buffy."

"I understand. And believe me that it will be completely painless for her. The chemicals gradually stop the heart, thirty seconds is all, perhaps longer for a Slayer."

"Just like going to sleep."

"Precisely." He could sense that there was more she wanted to say. Perhaps more questions to ask or even protestations about the Slayer's end, which he would simply redirect to Commander Finn. There were occasions when it was beneficial to not be the one making the tough decisions. He tried to give her a comforting smile. "Now let's make sure everything is all right with you and your baby." He moved around the desk and slipped the stethoscope out from beneath his lap coat.

"When does this goddamn morning sickness go away?" Faith's expression turned to a scowl. "And what's up with calling it morning sickness? I feel like I'm gonna puke the whole damn day."

"Yes. Morning sickness is rather a misnomer but it's a good sign. Means that the hormones levels are high and that usually means a healthy pregnancy. Take a deep breath." He checked her lungs and heart first, slipping the stethoscope into his ears and listening to the symphony beneath her skin. "Heart rate is a bit elevated but that could be nerves."

"Not too big on doctors." Faith commented, eyes straight ahead and following his instructions diligently.

"Have you had an ultrasound? You're still early into the pregnancy but I'd like to take a look, get my bearings so to speak."

"Point me at the hoops, Doc, and I'll jump."

Traffic lessened and all but disappeared as Leia made her way toward the surgery bay at the far end of the medical wing; most of the base dwellers were busy making preparations in the heart of Genesis. Finding where they had stashed the crazy Slayer had been easy, a few questions with some gratuitous name-dropping had done the trick in a matter of minutes. She wasn't sure why exactly she felt compelled to see the Slayer. Maybe to reassure her self that she wasn't able to take a human life even if the victim wasn't entirely human, entirely sane, or even awake. Perhaps she wanted to see that this Slayer really existed and if there would be a moment where she wished she could kill her and get her family back. Not that getting a brainwashed family was actually the same thing. Lawyers, evil lawyers in particular, never understood the difference.

No one had told her not to wander around but it still felt like she was sneaking out of the school building after cutting class and at any moment the hall monitor would round the corner and give her detention. Stifling a nervous giggle, she paused before making her last right turn and tried to compose herself in case she did run into someone. A footstep later she was glad that she had, seeing two men in tense discussion outside the door she was looking for. One was dressed in uniform and armed while the other was in jeans and a t-shirt, probably another guest at Genesis waiting for the nightmare to end.

"Dr. James is planning on checking her within the hour. Make it look like she woke up earlier than he thought and attacked him, everyone will believe that. The timing has to be perfect. Sunset's in less than an hour and the drugs I slipped Sam will take that long to work but Dr. James has to be here first or it won't be believable." The man in jeans checked his watch.

"And you're sure that Sam will be fine?"

"As long as Finn gets her out of Sunnydale and into a hospital, she'll live." The man didn't seem to care one way or another. "Once Sam goes into labor and Dr. James is out of commission all eyes will be everywhere but here. There's your window, take it."

A curt nod was the soldier's only response but Leia noticed that his grip on the firearm tightened. She was frozen in her tracks, terrified that they would look up and see her if she even breathed. Heart pounding in her chest, she eased her weight back onto her left foot as slowly as she could and tried to slip back around the corner before they spotted her. If they were actually planning what she thought she'd heard then they wouldn't be pleased with her as an accidental witness. She didn't know if it was her shoe that creaked or the floor itself. There was just a second where her eyes met the brown eyes of the soldier, watched in slow motion as the other man turned around before she stumbled backward and ran.

The man in jeans caught her in less than twenty feet, his long legs eating up the space between them. One hand clamped down on her shoulder and he shoved her down hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. Gasping for air, she cried out as her arm twisted painfully behind her back and he yanked her forcibly back down the hallway.

"Please! I didn't….I won't tell anyone!" Tears stung her eyes when he wrenched her arm even harder.

"Shit." The soldier slapped his hand across her mouth and gave her a terrifying glare. "Who is she?"

"Came in with the Sunnydale group." The other man looked furious. "Which means someone is going to miss her. Let her talk. What are you doing here?"

"I…I wanted to see her," Leia stammered, blood trickling from her lip where her teeth had cut the skin. "The Slayer. I just…just wanted to see. For myself."

"Does anyone know you're here?" he demanded sharply, accenting his words with another twist of her arm.

"No!" Leia cried out, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I didn't tell anyone."

"What do we do now? Call it off, Birkman." The soldier put his hand back over her mouth to keep her quiet.

"I've already given Sam the drug and the vampires are still coming," Birkman snarled back. "There's no problem. She came looking for the Slayer and she found her. Just like Dr. James will."

The soldier's eyes narrowed, "She's not part of this."

"She is now. Take her in that room and do what you have to. Got it?" Birkman shoved her brutally toward the man. "Just make sure you hold up your end, Garrett. Now she knows both our names." He gave her one last chilling look before disappearing down the corridor.

Leia tried to stop crying, blinking away the tears as quickly as they formed. Once her arm was free she tried to massage away the stabbing pain in her shoulder and elbow. The man named Garrett was silent as he swiped his security pass to unlock the door and pushed her into the darkened room. Her first image was blurry, eyes adjusting to the dim light, but she could make out a tall woman strapped to an operating table while the heart monitor beside her beeped quietly in the unnatural stillness.

"Sit down." Garrett ordered harshly, nodding toward a stool along the wall.

"Please let me go." Leia took a seat, pulling away from him as much as she could. "I promise I won't say anything."

"What's your name?"

"Leia. I'm…I'm here with Willow."

Recognition sparked in his eyes, "The witch."

"Yeah."

"No one's going to get hurt." Garrett rounded on her with sudden intensity. "Except the Slayer and she deserves to die."

"I don't know anything about her. Just please let me go." Leia wiped at her tears, some of her terror lessening as she began to hope that he wasn't going to hurt her.

His eyes seemed to be focused somewhere beyond her and when he spoke his voice was soft and far away. "I was here when she…when she killed them. I was one of the guards who let her in. Supposed to take her down to the conference room, supposed to make sure she got there. She left me in the hallway with a broken jaw and shattered knee but she let me live. And she," his face contorted with fury and pain. "She kissed me."

Leia shrunk back, knowing there was nothing she could do or say in the face of such hatred. She glanced around for a place to run or even something to defend her self with if he decided to vent his rage on her.

"I have to." His voice was soft again. "I'm sorry. But she has to pay for what she did and that means I have to follow the plan. I can't let you go. I'm sorry. I'll make sure Willow knows where you are."

"Wh-what are you going to do to me?"

"Hold still." Garrett moved toward her slowly, hands held palms out as if to calm her. "This is going to hurt a bit but you'll be okay. Bruised and probably have a headache but you'll live."

"Please." Leia pulled back against the wall, eyes wide with fear.

"I have to hit you. It's more realistic that way, like the Slayer did it."

"Please."

"Try not to clench your jaw, you might bite your tongue." He moved faster than she thought he could, reaching out and grabbing her arm to keep her from running. Leia closed her eyes tightly, tense and waiting. Stars flashed along with the pain shooting through her jaw and neck, the sound of his fist striking echoing in her ears as she crashed to the side. Her elbow hit the wall on the way down and she felt as though the whole world was spinning around her before the room closed in and swallowed her whole.

---

Not even the darkness of unconsciousness was restful. There was never any peace to be found under any of the rocks and she could dig as deeply as she could into the muck but she would never find it. Frozen in suspension, waiting for her body to heal itself and her mind to find its way through the tangled roots of the past. Where Lilah ended and Cara began was no longer an edge that could be found or a line that could be drawn. There was just who she was now rising up through the chaos and taking form. A Slayer was all she needed to be, all she would ever be, and a Slayer had one purpose.

It was that purpose that haunted the stillness of involuntary sleep and kept her mind spinning through the void with desperate impatience as it waited for her body to renew what had been lost. She didn't want it, didn't want to care if any of them lived or died. All she wanted was peace and quiet, a moment without pain or fatigue. Didn't want to recognize the turmoil brewing at the edges of her skin, where she met the world and the war began. Every time she opened up her eyes, there was nothing but blood and pain and someone else's life passing her by. There were moments scattered like bits of bones and teeth strewn over a battlefield, moments that didn't cut and bleed or leave her aching for a past she no longer had. It had been her life once.

She saw the world through a haze, through a glass so dark and bitter that she didn't know what it felt like to stand in the light. In the depths of her mind, she could hear Wesley's voice telling her that something inside was dark and always had been. That there was a part of her that didn't belong, a piece that was responsible for everything her hands had done. The piece hadn't been swallowed up by light and life and she didn't glow the way that Buffy did.

Nerves tingled at the tips of her fingers and the cold seeped through her skin, reminding her that once again that her heart had refused to stop pumping life through her veins. For an instant, she willed it to let her sleep forever, to finally rest and slip away, but it kept pounding beneath her ribs and the tingling spread up her arms. Shoulders were stiff and aching from endless fighting. Burns stung anew as the blood began to return, still trying to heal the same old wounds. That part was familiar. Wait for the fog to clear and adrenaline to slip into the bloodstream, jolting her back into pain. For now, there was nothing to do but wait as consciousness kicked in and sensation returned to her body inch by inch. How many times had she laid against the jungle floor, covered in the mud and leaves, her own blood trickling into the earth as she waited to heal enough to stand back up? To stumble back into the camp where she would find a first aid kit waiting for her and uncomfortable eyes looking everywhere else.

Feeling a thousand years older than her age, she tried to inhale slowly and shift her weight onto the less burned side of her body. Her vision was blurry but could make out the shadowy sterility of a surgical room. The beeping in her ears coincided with each determined heartbeat. Gingerly, she tested her strength against the restraints and listened to the soft jingle of the metal links. The metal was lightweight, looping through the heavier leather and attaching to the table beneath her. There wasn't enough play in the restraints around her wrists to reach under the table and unhook the clasps.

Closing her eyes to focus on taking slow and even breaths, she bent her knees as far as the strap across her thighs would allow. Contracting toward her feet, the restraint across her chest slipped up an inch toward her neck. It was slow going, curling and uncurling like an inchworm creeping along a branch. The strap slipped up onto her neck, then her face, and finally she could duck and twist underneath it. With her torso free, she worked at the clasp around her right wrist with her teeth until it finally slipped open. Sweat was stinging in the burns on the side of her face by the time she had one hand free to undo the rest of the restraints.

Hands shaking violently, she doggedly held on to the table as she lowered her legs over the side and tried to stand without her knees buckling. With white knuckles and her stomach clenching painfully, she disconnected the wires measuring each heartbeat, quieting the monitor with a push of a button. If they were watching, they would have been here when the guard had dragged the woman into the room and knocked her out. Tugging weakly at the neckline of her t-shirt, stiff with her blood and speckled with Wesley's, she quietly knelt beside the crumpled figure and checked her pulse. Strong and steady. She'd said her name was Leia. It brought images of another time, another place, another Leia staring up at her with wide eyes. The other Leia she hadn't been able to save. She brushed her fingers over silky blonde hair and wondered if it would be any different this time. Maybe she would be able to save this one.

Her stomach clenched again when she thought of Garrett standing outside the room and unaware of anything but the blood pounding in her ears, she crept to the door to peer through the narrow window; watching him for several minutes and noting that he checked his watch repeatedly, glancing up and down the hallway each time. Waiting for something or someone. She backed away from the door slowly, knowing that Garrett would sooner slit her throat than stand guard over her as she slept. If he hadn't already tried to kill her in her sleep then it was simply part of his plan and if Buffy had wanted her dead, she would never have woken up. Outside the surgical bay was a trap waiting to spring and she had no intention of letting him pull the trigger.

As silently as possible, she searched through the cabinets for something that would steady her hands. In the back of the room a set of locked doors whispered hidden promise of success; she broke the lock with a hard twist and hoped the sound hadn't been loud enough to arouse the suspicion of the man outside. Inside were the neatly stacked kits that she had seen the medics carrying in Brazil, each one labeled with the conditions it could benefit. With trembling fingers, she collected several kits and laid them out on the counter top. She emptied one of them and began restocking it with the particular cocktails she needed: trauma, blood loss, and malnourishment. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten anything. Last but not least, she collected all of the syringes containing adrenaline and painkillers.

The needle cap from one of the pain cocktails slipped from her clumsy fingers and dropped to the floor with barely a sound. She used her teeth to pull the arm strap tight above her elbow, clenching her fist tightly. It took all of her concentration to keep the needle steady enough to pierce her skin and push it into a vein in her left arm. By the time she had emptied the syringe, the drugs were already taking effect and the ever-present pain began to lessen. She selected one for malnourishment and tried to focus again. And again. Her head was spinning by the time she pulled the last needle out of her arm and yanked off the strap. Blood oozed from the needle marks but she didn't bother to wipe it away. Compulsively, she slipped one of the empty syringes into her pocket. Any weapon was better than being unarmed.

Without the pain, she could move a little easier. She gathered up the remaining syringes, closed the modified kit, and took a better look around the room. Leaving wouldn't be possible without killing or wounding Garrett and she needed to remain undetected. She needed more time. The tiny seed of an idea began to take root. Setting the field kit gently on a countertop, she returned to the unconscious woman and slipped her arms beneath her legs and back. In her weakened state her muscles shook with the exertion of lifting what should have been no weight at all. She concentrated on putting one foot down after the other, crossing the room to gently lay the woman down on the surgery table. Clumsy fingers fumbled with the restraints; fastening them loosely around slender wrists, ankles, and over the woman's legs and chest. She repositioned the heart monitor's contact pads on the woman's chest and began to unwind her bandages, transferring them neatly to Leia's limbs. Beneath the gauze was red, angry skin that had been burnt, torn, and bruised until she wondered how there was any skin left.

Despite the anger she had felt toward the Council, she found solace in the methodical practices they had instilled, the ones Lilah had chosen to keep. Bit by bit, she wearily took stock of her condition and impassively decided that the results were bleak even with the cocktails she'd dumped into her bloodstream. They would keep her alive and blissfully free of pain just long enough. Mentally checking off each wound, each ache and pain, she tried to determine how much it would cut into her abilities and how soon she would recover. She was in no condition to fight and there wasn't enough time to heal. Her gamble had paid off, however, and she wasn't trapped in the chemical chains of the monstrous drug they kept filling her with. She wouldn't have to drown in nothingness for hours too long, unable to feel or react to the world around her. Every second mattered now.

Her muscles were deliberately relaxed and loose, her back against the wall behind the door so that when it swung inward she would be out of the sight line and have a few seconds advantage. More than anything she needed to stay off the radar until it happened. Whatever it was. She wasn't sure if it was simple intuition or if her mind was playing tricks on her but the thought that she was missing something nagged at her incessantly. Hiding in the ground was what they wanted, was still playing the game by Wolfram and Hart's rules. Slayers weren't meant to hide and every human within the base was a potential spy.

With her eyes closed, time sped by unwatched and unnoticed, measured only by the slow rhythm of this new Leia's heartbeat. Sunset was coming; she could feel it despite the feet of earth above and around her, could feel the storm brewing beyond the darkened room. Slayer sense, Buffy had called it. The tiny voice inside that wasn't hers, perhaps a past Slayer watching over those who lived now. According to the Watcher's Council, the average lifespan of a Slayer was less than two years. She had known that before she was called but the others hadn't, the ones she saw in her dreams. She always saw them dying and wondered if they left behind family and friends. Or if they were they like her and left nothing other than their own broken bodies.

Boots cast shadows that slipped beneath the door and she knew the end had finally begun. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No more time for thinking. Just the fight, the dance. Just doing what needed to be done. The door hissed open and three men entered; one guard, Garrett, and two men in white lab coats. The older man with graying hair moved with the crisp stride of decades of military training; his focus on the woman he believed to be the Slayer and the lab technician following him like a faithful dog. She smiled as Garrett scanned the room with his grip tightening on the gun, knowing there should be another person in the room but unable to find her.

"Wait a second." The doctor sounded both puzzled and alarmed. "Cara Sewell doesn't have blonde hair."

"Shit." Garrett swung his rifle into position and spun around.

Cara was a second faster. The barrel of the gun slapped against her right palm as she pushed it out of the way and drove her left fist into Garrett's throat. He stumbled backwards, choking and gasping for air. Spinning on her heel, she took out the lab tech with a kick that sent him crashing against the wall. The doctor stood his ground, facing her without any outward show of fear. His hand was open against the side of his coat and she knew there was a holster at his hip. Even the doctors were armed at Genesis.

"I didn't hurt her," Cara informed him without emotion.

"Who is she?"

"Bait."

The doctor nodded slightly, glancing at the surgery table and the woman named Leia. "What do you want?"

An enraged scream cut off any answer she might have given him and Garrett barreled into her with surprising force. Air fled from her lungs as she hit the cold tile floor, the burns on her neck screaming as the damaged skin cracked and split. Strong hands held onto her arms, dragging her across the floor and slamming her hard into the concrete wall. Stars spun through her vision as she twisted and tried to pull away. Metal brushed against her face and she shoved it away wildly; gunshots echoed harshly in her ears and the sound of ricocheting bullets was almost physically painful. Something crashed to the floor with a clatter. Black exploded across her vision and she fell back against the floor, struggling with the burning in her lungs.

"Why won't you just die?" Garrett shouted into her ringing ears. His weight settled firmly onto her lower abdomen, keeping her pinned against the floor and making it hard to breathe.

Cara coughed, tasting blood in her mouth and blinking her eyes open. A blurry image faded in and out, jerking from side to side rhythmically. She was confused until she realized that the jerking coincided with a burst of pain in her jaw and face. Gasping for air, she didn't fight back, couldn't fight back as he struck her over and over. Lost in the haze, she felt herself slipping back into unconsciousness when the beating finally stopped. Each breath was painful and the weight on her stomach hadn't lessened. Ice-cold metal pressed sharply into her neck just beneath her jaw. She waited.

"Open your fucking eyes." The voice ordered harshly.

She swallowed a mouthful of blood, turning her face and trying to open her eyes. One was badly bruised and rapidly swelling, making her vision unclear and distorted. Blinking painfully, she managed to focus on the face above her and the searching brown eyes she had seen a hundred thousand times in her nightmares. Angry, hateful. Afraid.

"There's just one thing I want to know before I blow your fucking head off." He adjusted his grip on the gun, pressing harder into the vulnerable spot beneath her jaw. "That day, when you…you kissed me. Tell me why." The muscles in his jaw ticked and a bead of sweat slid down the side of his face. Cara winced as the gun dug into her throat, trying not to cough and possibly startle him into firing. "Answer the question," he snarled, grabbing hold of the front of her shirt and pulling her up until their faces were only inches apart. The gun flipped around, now pressing into the side of her skull as he held her close.

"Why do you care?" Cara tried to look away only to have her jaw protest as he twisted her face back toward him.

"Did you think you were doing me some kind of favor?" Garrett hissed. "Or were you just trying to humiliate me even more? Was that it?"

"No." Cara ground out through clenched teeth, caught between the barrel of the gun and his fury.

"Why didn't you kill me?" The scream pounded into her skull with the force of a blow. "Tell me why, goddammit!"

Shivering with cold and fatigue, Cara tried to form the words and push them through her lips. "Because…I…"

"Well?" He gripped her heavy braid in his left hand and glared at her impatiently.

"I…you…you were," she nearly choked as he yanked her hair again. "I…wanted. To kiss you. Wanted you."

He stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief. "You've got to be fucking kidding." She swallowed more blood and shook her head, finding enough strength to place one hand on the floor and support some of her own weight. He leaned close enough to brush his lips against her cheek softly, close enough for his breath to tickle against her ear and his voice to barely be heard. "I wouldn't touch you for the world. Would never, could never, want you. Even if you were the last woman in this entire fucking universe, I would never fuck you." Cara tried to pull away, eyes stinging with tears she didn't understand. He jerked her back roughly and tightened his grip on her hair, "I'm not finished, bitch. You're sick. You're a sick, filthy animal. You're nothing."

"Sorry." She tried to meet his eyes one last time.

"Shut up!" Garrett shifted his grip, twisting the gun away from her head to shake her brutally. "No one cares that you're sorry! All those people you killed? You'll never make up for that. You'll always be a murderer."

"Not for that." Cara slammed her forearm against the inside of his arm and pinned his wrist to the floor, taking the gun out of the equation. The empty syringe she'd stowed in her pocket tumbled into her fingers and even with her hand shaking, she drove the needle straight into his heart. Cold air rather than painkillers spilled into his blood and his eyes widened instantly, breathing accelerating rapidly even as he fought to get away. He clutched his chest, unable to speak, but his eyes spoke volumes as he slumped to the floor. Then they were empty and peaceful.

Cara rubbed her jaw gingerly and looked around. From the surgery table, Leia stared in horror at the wreckage of the room and the lifeless body of the doctor. The gunfire must have roused her from unconsciousness. Blood had turned the doctor's white lab coat crimson, spreading out from bullet wounds in his chest and abdomen.

"Was that part of the plan?" She asked timidly.

"Fucking gun." Cara rolled Garrett onto his back and began stripping away his uniform. He was the right height and had lost enough weight in the jungle that the clothing wouldn't be a noticeable difference on her. Quickly shedding the blood stained t-shirt and sweats, she was glad for the feel of fatigues against her legs. The uniform covered all but the burns on her face. Once dressed, with the utility belt comfortingly around her waist and the rifle slung over her shoulder, she unbuckled the restraints and helped Leia off of the surgery table.

"Are you going to kill me?" Leia was shaking hard enough to rattle the restraints and looked as though she was going to vomit at any moment.

Cara shook her head absently, "Once the killing starts, stick close to Willow. They'll have a plan, they always have a plan. Trust them."

"What do I tell them about…?" Trailing off, she glanced around the room and her face turned a darker shade of green.

"Doesn't matter. I'm already dead." She'd killed everything and everyone, who had ever meant anything. Anyone who had ever sparked something inside of her and made her feel alive. There was nothing but blood and death now.

---

Cordelia wasn't sure if it was out of habit or if she was seeking the comfort of familiarity when she dug out the reference key she'd gotten from Files and Records before her world had gone topsy-turvy. It was worn and familiar from weeks trapped underground and felt like the only friend she had since she was in unofficial exile from the rest of the group. Still too angry and shocked, they were talking about her at the far end of the library, or research wing, whatever it was called. Wesley had been taken to one of the bunkrooms to get some needed rest. Since it wasn't likely that any of them were going anywhere now that sunset had arrived and the base was closing up tighter than a drum, she could wait for them to come around.

Words she already knew by heart moved in and out of focus on the page. Vampire with a soul fights the Big Evil and gets a shanshu out of hell card. There were a few vague references to casting out a demon. As if Angel hadn't done enough of that. He'd cast out enough demons to fill an entire hell dimension and that didn't seem to be enough for the Powers That Be. With a sigh, she continued flipping through pages without really reading. She didn't need to anymore.

"Hey, Cordy." Dawn approached her cautiously.

"Better not tell Big Sis you're talking to me. She'd throw another tantrum."

"You made a deal with the people who tried to kill you, do you blame her?" Dawn asked pointedly.

"No." Cordelia sighed and motioned to the seat across the table. "But I'd do again in a heartbeat. It's Wesley, Dawn. I don't really expect you to understand, he's different than he was when you knew him."

Dawn sat down and set her book on the table, "I think I found something. I think I found what you are."

"Really?" Cordelia leaned over to get a better look at the ancient book she was holding.

"Here. It's not really a demon. Well, sort of." Dawn opened the book and turned it around so Cordelia could read the words. At least, she could have read the words if they were in English.

"Dawn?"

"Oh. Sorry. Sumerian," Dawn laughed a little awkwardly. "It's not so much that you're half demon, you're just half not quite human. I started with anything that glows and narrowed it down from there. Turns out there're only a few of anything that go glowy and most of them are insects or worms. Since you don't have any insecty appendages, I ruled those out."

"Good to know."

"That leaves a couple different types of demony critters. Human-ish and peaceful. This one." She pointed to a picture of a slender being in long robes, "Is a Purifier demon, that's a rough translation. They're not found in this dimension and they can't actually survive here in their true form. Something in the air I guess. But maybe if they were stuffed into a human? They've been known to heal things, get rid of nasties, that kind of thing."

"That actually makes sense." Cordelia scrutinized the picture more closely. "When Connor first came back for Quortoth, he attacked me and I started glowing. I didn't have control of it then. But I could feel all the darkness and hate and anger inside of him just wash away. All that poison."

"It didn't kill him?"

"No. It just…" Cordelia felt the words die in her throat.

"Cordy?"

"It just cast out his demons." The world around her had suddenly become crystal clear. Lindsey's voice repeated in her mind; That's the problem with the good guys…You never ask the right questions. Angel had assumed that he hadn't been meant to kill Jasmine, that doing so had cost him his Shanshu. Her mind raced as the pieces slid into place. Lilah said it had been there the entire time, right beneath their noses. She had known what Cordelia was, Lindsey knew what she was. They had known the entire time but had kept Angel just busy enough not to look too closely. Could it be that simple? Questions began piling up noisily, demanding her attention in screeching, impatient voices.

"You okay?" Dawn was watching her with unsettling focus.

"Bear with me here." She tightened her grip on the reference key. "The Senior Partners know how Angel gets his Shanshu, maybe even that he's already earned it but forgot to pick up the claim ticket. Skip, that shiny metal traitor, told Angel that it was all one big plan to get Jasmine here. Connor, Darla, me, everything just one piece of the same puzzle."

"I'm with you so far."

"But there's no way the Powers That Be weren't in on it. Jasmine told Angel she was one of them so they had to know about her. And if they've been using Angel as their go to guy all this time, why send him some evil demon thing and not want him to kill it?"

"Umm…"

"So him killing Jasmine had to be part of the plan." Cordelia frowned at nothing in particular. "Then why is he still a vampire? And why is Wolfram and Hart keeping him around?"

"Maybe things didn't go the way they'd planned." Dawn offered.

Another piece clicked. She felt the color and heat drain from her cheeks. "It had nothing to do with Jasmine, it was about Connor. Whatever he was."

"Cordy? I don't like that look."

"Lindsey asked if Cara had been interested anyone particular, if she'd known something she couldn't have known, that no one else knew. Oh my God, they're not after Cara." She bolted from the table and headed for the exit.

"Wait! What's going on?" Dawn caught up with her in the hallway.

"I need to find Buffy. I can't believe I was so stupid." She glanced around, trying to remember which way the Command Center was. "It's Spike. The Senior Partners don't know what he is but if he's like Connor then they'll try to kill him. With Connor dead, The Powers had to find another way. Angel was a dead end."

"That's…surprisingly not as crazy as it sounds."

"Cara recognized what he was because she has Lilah's memories." A loud crack ended her train of thought and she stumbled when something heavy struck her in the back. Twisting around, she realized that Dawn had fallen against her and struggled to prop the young woman up. Her hands touched warm and damp as a dark red stain spread across the fabric of Dawn's t-shirt. She was stunned speechless when she looked up and saw Wesley holding a gun with a silencer attached.

"Very good, but you're a little late."

"Wesley?" Cordelia pulled Dawn into her arms, frantically trying to stop the bleeding. She could feel the girl's heartbeat fading. "What are you doing?"

"Now, now. I can't have anyone else knowing about your sudden epiphany but thank you for figuring it out for me. You're right; we will have to kill Spike now. And the last thing I want is for you to go getting ideas about making Angel human again. We have a great deal invested in keeping him a vampire for a very long time." The gleam in his eye was disconcerting. "I must admit that the Powers certainly have a twisted sense of humor, making you the key to Angel's Shanshu. Rather sadistic, don't you think? Did you ever wonder if there's really that much difference between the Powers and the Senior Partners?"

"Wesley? What's going on?"

"Oh yes. There is the unfortunate change of appearance." He shrugged casually and waved his gun to direct her toward a door on her right. "You know, I can't recall if we ever met. Such a pity, you're quite lovely. Into the storage room, please."

Cordelia tried not to panic as she half carried and half dragged Dawn's limp form into the dark room. "Who are you?"

"Lilah wasn't the only one who deserved a new body and I must say, this one is quite adequate. You have to be willing pay the price of service, believing that you will be rewarded for your loyalty." The familiar smile had become menacing and cold. "Holland Manners. And it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." He raised the gun and fired.

---

It might have been the sirens that cut through the chemical haze in Angel's brain and sent him plummeting back to consciousness; then again it could have been Lorne frantically trying to wake him by dumping a gallon of ice water over his head. Shaking like a dog, he sprayed water over the room around him and tried to blink the droplets out of his eyes. "Lorne! I'm awake! What are you doing?"

Lorne waved recklessly at the strobe lights and yelled over the screeching sirens, "Something's gone wrong in a Titanic hits the iceberg kinda of way. Gotta get you up and moving!" He stripped away the needles and tubes.

Angel was surprised to find that he could move easier and the burns had faded to pink instead of the angry red. Hoping that moving around would clear his head, he grabbed a spare lab coat to dry his face and hair and followed Lorne out the door. Outside the med unit was pure chaos. They kept flat against the wall, trying to stay out of the way of the armed guards and the lab techs running through the hallways as though the hounds of hell were behind them.

"What happened?" He shouted to Lorne.

"Don't know! Have to get to the Command Center!"

Angel jumped out of the way of a tech bearing a cart of medical supplies and equipment, barely avoiding being clipped by the metal edges. He glanced down the hallway to see if any more were headed his way and caught the scent of blood. Fresh and familiar. Cordelia. Ignoring the rush of people around him, he shoved his way through them to follow the smell.

"Angel? Where are you going?"

Lorne's cry fell on deaf ears. Completely focused on the smell of blood, Angel made a left and continued to shoulder his way past anyone who had the unfortunate fate of being in the hallway. Another scent was mixed in with Cordelia's and for a brief, terrifying moment he thought it might be Buffy's blood. He passed a door labeled Storage and stopped, checking both directions. It was strongest here. The door was locked when he tried the doorknob. Twisting as hard as he could, the lock snapped and he nearly ripped the door off of its hinges.

Cordelia lay on the floor; her face pale and blood dripping down her neck into a pool on the floor. Dawn was wrapped tightly in her arms, as though she'd tried to protect her from something. He could tell that it was too late for Dawn; she had already slipped away. Collapsing onto his knees beside them, he pressed his fingers against Cordelia's neck and felt the faint pulse beneath her skin. Frantically, he searched for the source of blood and found a bullet wound in her chest, a hair's width away from her heart.

"Somebody help me! Somebody!" He bellowed into the hallway. "Hang on, Cordy. Hang on."

"Angel." Her lips barely moved.

"Don't talk, you'll be okay."

The corner of her mouth twitched slightly, "Liar."

"Don't leave me, Cordy."

"It was me, Angel. It was me all along."

"Shh. Don't talk."

Very slowly, she lifted her hand from Dawn's back and placed it lightly over his heart. "Wish I could've seen you. In the sun." Her fingertips began to shimmer and glow, spreading across his chest and shoulders. Holding onto her hand as tightly as he dared, he closed his eyes against the glowing light before it swallowed up the world around him. A jolt of pain shot through him from head to toe and he could hear Angelus screaming inside his head before the demon was ripped away in a flood of light. Blood pounded in his ears, heart contracted, and lungs filled with a desperate, drowning breath. The earth shook beneath his feet and the shelves rattled around him, boxes of cleaning supplies crashing down to the floor.

Once the shaking stopped, he had to close his eyes to quiet the spinning in his head. Every inch of his body hummed with life from the roots of his hair to the tips of his fingers and it was all he could do not to get up and run screaming from the room. He'd waited so long, had fought and bled and clung to the remaining shred of hope that he hadn't been abandoned. That lives hadn't been lost in vain and that he wasn't just another crackpot's prophecy. Another part of him had never believed it was possible because it meant that he'd managed, somehow, to atone for centuries of evil. He knew that to be impossible. Suddenly he was utterly terrified of the clean slate he had been given. He could be wounded beyond repair, he could get sick, and now he would be mortal. He would be just another human being on a crowded planet.

Reaching out with trembling fingers to brush a strand of chestnut hair from Cordelia's face, he wished that he could give the Shanshu back in exchange for her. Wished that he could be strong enough to protect her the second time around. He was useless in the middle of a war and unable to curse anyone but himself for it. Cordelia had worked harder than anyone to discover the secret in the cards The Powers That Be dealt him and he had no doubt she would have come back from the grave to make sure he found it. Why did it have to be now? Now, when everyone he cared for was either lying in his arms with their life bled out onto the floor or waiting underground for the inevitable carnage to come? Irony wasn't a strong enough word. Unfair didn't do it justice either.

It had never been enough that his soul, his conscience reminded him every waking moment of every person he'd ever killed. Eternal remorse wasn't enough to atone for what he'd done. Everyone he loved had to be taken away from him. He had to lose Buffy, Doyle, Wesley, Cordelia, Connor. Had to watch as he lost another and another. Until there was no one left and he'd finally paid the price of a soul.

The hallway behind him was still bustling with noise and footsteps, people coming and going with the sirens wailing in their ears. Death had come and taken his quota and Life marched on with barely a glance toward the tragedy. As much as he wanted it to, the world wasn't going to end and time wasn't going to stop because he'd gotten his heart torn apart just as it started beating again. Everything was covered with a sheen of loss and pain. That was what it meant to be alive. In the centuries of immortality, he had forgotten how tenuous and brutal life could be. Well, not forgotten. He'd been acutely aware of that as it pertained to his victims but had forgotten what it was to feel for himself. Now he'd been laid bare before a desert hurricane with sand and wind that bit, tore, and sliced through skin and muscle. He had wanted this. Fate may have chosen him but he had chosen to keep his feet on the path. What path was there for him to follow now?

The next sound he recognized was Buffy's scream. Fingers were clawing at him and pulling the young woman away from him. She clung to Dawn, shoulders shaking violently as she sobbed into the dead girl's hair.

He pulled Cordelia closer, feeling her skin cool beneath his touch and no longer able to distinguish the smell of her blood from Dawn's. They stayed on the floor of the storage room, holding the lifeless bodies of those they had loved until the blood began to dry on skin and cloth. Until Buffy had cried all the tears her slim frame contained and then some. He touched her shoulder gently, heart breaking anew at the pain in her eyes when she looked up.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

"We will find who did this. I promise you that." Strong and cold, her voice was a stark contrast to her tears.

He nodded and pulled his hand away, slipping it under Cordelia's legs and carefully getting to his feet with her body in his arms. "Where?"

"There's a morgue." Buffy wiped her tears away before she stood up beside him, still holding Dawn in her arms. "We can put them there until…until we can bury them."

He couldn't meet the eyes staring at them. Eyes of those he'd never met but who looked at him with the horror and sympathy of someone who understood his loss. They cleared the hallway quickly, letting him and Buffy pass through them without hindrance. In the background he could hear Riley barking orders and while the flashing lights still bathed the hallways in red and white, the sirens died away.

No words were spoken as they made their way to the morgue and gently laid the bodies on two of the tables. He noticed that the men who took over from there were in shock, their faces ashen. They would have known Dawn, he realized. He was too numb to do more than dumbly watch as they began to prepare the bodies for storage. It was Lorne who finally took hold of his arm and pulled him gently from the morgue. Buffy followed him, her face still white as snow.

"Did you…see anything?" She asked quietly once the doors closed behind them.

Angel shook his head, "Smelled the blood. Dawn was already…when I got there."

"Nothing you could do." Her voice was distant. "Nothing we could do."

She took a deep breath and seemed to brace herself for whatever would come next. "We need to get back to the command center. Everyone. It's going to be a long night."

The walk back through the corridors was a blur of sights and sounds, Lorne keeping one hand on his arm to make sure he took the right turns and didn't get lost in the bustle. He doubted he would remember any of it. The image of Cordelia's body would dominate his vision long after her blood was washed from his skin. With his eyes down, he could avoid the stares and not face anyone's sympathy. It would be too much to handle. Too much to take in along with the blood that wasn't his and the heartbeat he shouldn't have. All conversation died when they entered the command center and he could tell from the deathly silence that something was very wrong.

"Buffy?" Willow stepped forward. The blonde woman at her side looked equally terrified and devastated, holding an ice pack against her jaw so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"Dawn and Cordelia are dead." Buffy answered coldly. "They were shot and left in a storage room. I don't care what it takes…find out who did this. The base is sealed, it has to be someone inside."

Willows took another step. "Cara's awake and she's loose. A guard and Dr. James are dead, his assistant is unconscious."

"Oh god." Buffy sat down hard.

"We'll find her, I promise." Willow was at her side instantly, wrapping her arms around Buffy's shoulders.

Sam Finn stepped out of her husband's private office, her voice trembling with fear and her hands flat against her swollen belly, "Riley? My water broke."

Angel watched, oddly detached, as looks flew across the room faster than anyone could respond. The group swayed and buckled around him and suddenly the noise was deafening in his ears. He fell back and found a chair he could hold on to, barely able to understand the words racing around his head. Even the familiar faces of his friends were unrecognizable in the chaos. This hadn't been the plan. They should have been safe here away from the demons on the surface. Instead they had simply found demons of another kind. For some reason his focus landed on Riley and he watched the man with bittersweet understanding. Pure, unadulterated fear of loosing his unborn child and his wife. It was beyond reason or rationality and suddenly Angel knew that their group of warriors was going to rip itself into pieces sooner rather than later. The demons had won the first battle without throwing a single punch.

"You're the one who told me what's out there! Don't you remember?" Buffy's shout rose above the cacophony.

"She'll die, Buffy!"

"We have an entire medical wing."

"Dr. James is dead! No one else has the training." Riley was rapidly approaching the end of his rope. "I have to, Buffy. Just understand that I have to. I can't lose her."

Buffy stared at him, unflinching and immovable, and gradually the rest of the room fell silent around her. Slowly, she looked at each of the expectant faces and finally her eyes fell on Angel. Her shoulders squared and her chin rose almost imperceptibly but he could see the fire in her eyes. "Everyone who hasn't been with either me or Angel from the very beginning, please leave. This is our fight. Please let us do our jobs."

"Buffy." Riley began.

"You too, Riley. Take care of Sam. We'll think of something, I promise."

"Hurry," he said curtly before turning to leave.

Angel watched as people slowly filed out of the room, Riley holding tightly onto his wife as they left. The door closed behind the last man and those that remained kept quiet. It felt oddly familiar to have the old gang in the same room again. He had to look twice when he realized he was staring at Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. No one had even told him what had happened, he shouldn't be surprised that he hadn't known the Watcher was back from the dead. They had probably just forgotten that he would want to know. He pulled away from the group, finding it difficult to breathe with all the people around him. No one seemed to notice that he was no longer a vampire. Could they even tell the difference?

"Sam could die if she stays here and she doesn't have a lot of time." Buffy's voice was clear and firm. "Riley's right, we can't just let her die. But once we open the base, there's no telling what will happen. We may loose everyone who walks out that door. And we may loose everyone without ever opening the door. These aren't easy choices."

"We can find Cara and stop her." Giles looked as though he'd aged ten years in the past hour.

"That won't save Sam, not now. The best idea I have is to divide and conquer. Some of us will go after Cara and some of us will get Sam to the helicopter pad and out of Sunnydale. We can get air support but even then, there are just too many of them."

"I'll go." Spike stepped forward. "I'll get her there."

"Let me go with him." Faith chimed in immediately.

"No. You're too important to risk now. I'm sorry but that's the way it is." Buffy tone allowed no argument. "Spike and I will go with Riley and Sam. We'll take a bare bones hunting squad. The smaller the group, the faster we can move. Faith and Willow, you find Cara. Rip her out of whatever hole she's hiding in. I don't care if you bring her back dead or alive. We'll need guns at our back, someone to coordinate defense at the door. While it's open the demons are bound to attack. Gunn, that's you."

"What about the rest of us?" Xander asked.

"Xander, finish getting everyone settled in. Leia and Jane. Anyone who isn't armed needs to be, take care of that." She threw another glance around the room. "Angel, how are you feeling?"

"I can help." He answered ambiguously, unwilling to broach the subject of his sudden humanity.

"I want you at the door in case things go bad. You too, Gwen, we can use your hands. Anyone else looking for something to do?"

Wesley raised his hand half way, "I'm assuming I'll be with Mr. Giles."

"Good, you two keep things sane around here while I'm gone." Buffy checked her watch before nodding to the group. "The helicopter can be here in fifteen minutes, let's be ready in ten."

---

Spike thought it couldn't possibly get worse. He knew better than to believe it but his slightly skewed version of optimism always managed to slip in and convince him that, yes, this was the dregs of the darkness. It would be immediately followed by something impossibly worse but for a tiny instant, he had his feet firmly planted on as bad as it gets.

He tried not to look at Faith as she helped him into a Kevlar vest, showing him how to properly adjust the straps. Then there was a utility belt with a pistol, knife, and extra clips. Wooden core bullets and yes, he knew how to fire a gun. He loved her all the more for worrying in her own, brusque way. There was a twinge of guilt as he explained that he had promised Riley to look out for Buffy but without explaining why. That little detail just wouldn't shake off his tongue and he finally settled for wrapping her tightly against his chest and promising to come back to her.

"A few demons can't make me miss the rest of your life, luv." He whispered against her hair.

She nestled against him with sudden tenderness. "No fancy stuff. Just get them to the chopper and get gone."

"Don't need to tell me twice." He brushed a kiss against her forehead and lifted her chin. "You be careful tracking Cara down. Shoot first, ask questions later."

"Count on it."

"I love you." Spike tried to keep his voice light and failed. He honestly didn't know if he would make it back to her.

"Don't even think that way. I'm not going to lose you now, we've been through enough hell." She kissed him fervently, pulling away to give him a playful wink. "And I will kick your ass if I end up a single mom."

"Yes, ma'am." With a half serious salute, he finished buckling up his gear and rolled his shoulders to loosen the joints. Buffy was already in full gear, waiting inside the main cargo door with the others. Sam Finn was silent, her face completely devoid of anything but pain. Beside her, Riley was holding their son Aaron tightly in his arms. Spike knew he'd wanted to get Sam and Aaron out of the base before sunset and could see the guilt of having failed to do so in the man's eyes. Best laid plans. The dozen Marines who would be part of the group waited in tense anticipation, most of them fresh from the squads that had come in from around the world and all of them the best of their units.

"Okay." Buffy adjusted her crossbow one more time and nodded to Gunn. "The helicopter is two hundred yards straight ahead. Stick close and stay together. You guys on the door, make sure nothing gets inside."

"We got your back." Gunn shouldered an impressive assault rifle, freeing his hand to reach for the door controls.

"Ready. Now."

Spike tightened his grip on the modified staff he'd chosen as an extra weapon. Carved to a point at both ends and soaked in holy water, it would be useful if he got surrounded. Given the numbers of vampires supposedly waiting for them, the odds were good he'd need it. Buffy would take point while Spike brought up the rear; Sam, Riley, and Aaron nestled as safely as possible within a circle of Marines. Riley stayed at Sam's side, his weapon in check and sweeping back and forth as he searched for any sign of the vampires. They moved as quickly as they could and Spike knew that each step must be agony for Sam Finn.

Just over fifty yards led them out of any cover they had had from trees or peripheral building structures supporting the base. The road veered left but they kept moving in a straight line onto a field of damp grass. In the distance, they could hear the helicopter approaching. Too low and there was the risk that the demons would try to bring it down, too high and it wouldn't be able to get to those on the ground in time. A delicate balance had to be maintained until the small group managed to reach the landing pad at the far end of the field. In the pale starlight, they could only hear the rustle of leaves and quiet growling that meant they weren't alone.

"Vampires. To the right. Ten…maybe twenty." Riley whispered. The flashlights attached to the men's guns illuminated the darting shadows swimming at the edges of their vision.

"Keep moving." Buffy urged.

Spike heard movement behind him and swung around, walking backwards to keep pace with the others. He saw flickers of movement, shifting patches of black on black. "We're surrounded."

"I know. Keep moving. We'll have to push through them." Buffy glanced back to check on Sam. "We need to go faster, can you?"

"I'll try," Sam whimpered.

"Do what you can."

The hair on the back of his neck was standing at attention and his skin began to crawl as the net of vampires closed in around them. Halfway there. He couldn't see far enough into the inky darkness to tell how deep the vampires were but if it was more than a handful, he knew they'd never make it to the landing pad. In the distance behind them, gunfire sounded into the night and the sense of urgency was ratcheted up a notch. He'd seen some pretty steep odds in his day but this was pure insanity.

"They're going to close in soon." Motioning to the men behind her, Buffy whispered over her shoulder. "Keep as tight as you can and keep moving toward the landing pad. We'll get there, don't give up."

Spike readied his staff, one eye on his little group and one eye on the vampires creeping closer. More gunfire sounded from the base, accompanied by the unearthly death shriek of a demon. He saw the first wave coming and knew that a group of the demons had managed to muster enough courage to charge forward after their prey. Bullets tore into them from the guns and dust exploded from Buffy's side as her crossbow worked its magic. He met the charge head on, swinging into the vampires with all his strength and scattering them. Dust flew as he whipped and spun, stabbing with the ends and using the broad length to shatter bones and drive the monsters back. Each step and each stroke brought dust, blood, and death. The Marines fought off attacks on the sides with gunfire and grenades. Spike saw one of them fall out of the corner of his eye, then another and another. Progress was slow but they crept steadily toward the landing pad, slashing and dusting their way through the fray. Almost there. The wind from the rotary blades brushed the back of his neck in a gentle kiss.

"Riley!" Sam's terrified cry rose over the snarling vampires.

He spun around to see Riley tumble to the grass, his young son rolling from his arms and suddenly exposed through a gap in the decreasing number of men. Riley's leg had been slashed, blood gushing from a wound on his calf. Sam managed to pull his gun around and fired into the demons rushing toward them, screaming for her son to get down on the ground.

"Buffy!" Spike only managed to shout her name before he had too many vampires around him to worry about.

"Keep moving!" Riley's agonized yell was barely audible amidst the growls and screeching around them.

A long, reptilian shape caught Spike's attention out of the corner of his eye. A slender tail with razor barbs at the end that were dripping with what looked like blood. Wrestling his way through a pack of vampires, he tried to engage the demon but it just slipped further into the black. Rather than let it draw him further away from the group, he cleared a space around him and hurried back.

"Watch out for the guy with the tail. Nasty lookin' bastard."

"Noticed." Riley grimaced. Sam helped him to his feet and he was trying not to lean on her while not actually being able to stand on his own. Aaron was silently terrified, eyes wide and unblinking, staring into the carnage around him.

Spike caught the look on Buffy's face and knew things had just taken their proverbial turn to the worse. They couldn't make it to the landing pad with only a handful of people able to fight. The humans were wounded and tiring quickly under the constant onslaught. He handed Sam the pistol from his belt without needing to say anything and setting his jaw grimly, he turned back to the fight. They continued their inch-by-inch progress. Riley, Sam, and the remaining Marines managed to keep their flanks just clear enough while Buffy drove ahead through the masses and Spike kept the monsters off their backs. It was getting tighter and harder to move, Spike nearly sliced Riley in two when a vampire landed a lucky punch to his jaw. Two more men fell and were snatched away before they could even scream. He forced all other thoughts from his mind, focusing only the fight and staying alive. Just stay alive.

At some point he heard gunfire and registered that it was much closer than it should have been. The roar of a helicopter swooping overhead nearly deafened him, bullets spraying into the army of vampires around them. Fire exploded less than fifty feet away and he could smell napalm. Air support had arrived. Even with guns blazing fire above them, the demons just seemed to keep coming. The dust was nearly an inch deep on the grass.

He saw the snake-like demon slither back into view and swung around to block the barbed tail with his staff before it shredded him to ribbons. Something hit him hard from behind and he stumbled down onto the grass. Driving one end of the staff into the ground, he used it as leverage to push himself back up through claws and fists, screaming into the hoard as he threw them off. They were all around him, cutting him off from the others and effectively leaving Sam and Riley open to attack. Sweat poured down his face and he redoubled his efforts to get back to them. Bullets tore up the grass around him, forcing him to duck to keep from behind caught in the rain of gunfire. His head down, he suddenly felt the telltale prick of electricity that meant a Slayer was nearby. Another Slayer. Frantically, he cut through the vampires, tossing them away with each stroke of his staff. Where was she?

"Faith!" He shouted, scanning the twisting shadows for any sign of her. Why hadn't she waited inside? Why had she come after him?

"Spike!" Buffy sounded desperate. They were caught in a dead stand still, barely holding back the vampires bearing down on them.

He wasn't sure what he saw first, the fire or the cloud of dust that seemed to rip through the vampires like a tornado. A clearing appeared in the masses of demons, like the eye of a hurricane, and there she was. She moved with savage efficiency, cutting and slicing with a thin blade in one hand; the flamethrower in the other hand side springing to life periodically to clear a path. When she was close enough for him to see her face, he found nothing but death in her eyes. Steel flashed and an unlucky demon's head tumbled away from its body. Her boot struck out and kicked the oozing corpse off of one of the men; she hauled the wounded man to his feet with one hand and dragged him back to the group.

"Move!" Cara snarled.

Around the group lit up in a blaze of fire and they lurched forward haltingly. Still fighting anything that came within range of his staff, he watched her come around to the side of their faltering group, pick up Aaron, and swing him onto her back. Fire belched out to the side and front. Ten more feet inched by and the landing pad came into view. Wiping sweat out of his eyes, he threw himself back into the fight with renewed hope.

It felt like hours before his feet landed on the concrete of the pad and he noticed the wind beating down on him furiously. He shoved back at the monsters, forming one link of a defensive ring to protect the Finns as they were carried up into the helicopter one at a time. Only five of the Marines still remained. Finally, the wind began to die down and the roar of the engine faded. The other helicopters continued to make passes over the swarm of demons, firing and bombing as much as they could. Spike made eye contact with Buffy over his shoulder and saw blood dripping down the side of her face.

"We have to get back!" He shouted.

"We run! Fast as we can!"

Before he could take the first step, Cara spun past him with her flamethrower spitting out fire in a circle around them, forcing the demons to retreat several yards and giving them a few moments of rest. She unhooked the weapon and handed it to Buffy.

"There's enough to get you back, use it to clear a path."

Buffy visibly struggled to contain her fury but took the straps and slipped them over her shoulders. "If you make back alive, I will kill you."

"I didn't kill Dawn." Cara inspected the blade in her hand before wiping it clean against the dark fatigues she wore.

"What?"

She flexed her wrist in anticipation, spinning the weapon in figure eight patterns. "Protect Faith and the baby. They'll come after Spike because they don't what the baby means yet. But they will soon and then they'll kill you all. They'll bury this whole town. Demon, human, every blade of grass. It won't matter once they realize they've lost." Cara's gaze was solely on Buffy.

"What are you talking about?" Spike shifted uneasily, the circle of vampires was beginning to close again.

A dozen emotions flashed across Buffy's face as she struggled with an internal war as brutal as the one around them. "And you?"

Cara turned her attention back to the howling demons, "This is where I end. They'll split off and focus on me. I'm the weakest. It should give you enough of an advantage."

"Cara." Buffy's voice was surprisingly gentle.

"If we stick together," Spike tried to interrupt but stopped when he saw the unexpected look of peace on Cara's face.

"This is my purpose. This is what I was born to do." There was no fear or regret in her voice.

Buffy took a deep breath and wiped at the blood on her forehead. "Then let's make sure you don't die for nothing."

Spike took point, carving a tunnel through the monsters with the sound of fire crackling on either side as Buffy danced back and forth spraying death. They moved fast without anything to worry about but their own lives, slashing their way through without deliberately trying to kill anything. At some point he felt Cara slipping further away and heard the howling triumph of a demon when it brought her down. Cold shivers raced down his spine and the electric buzz of the third Slayer disappeared completely. A sliver of light appeared through the trees and gave them their first glimpse of safety; he tore into the vampires with a ferocity born of pure adrenaline. He didn't realize that they'd made it back to the base until he stumbled into bright lights and heard Faith's voice over the sound of his pounding heart. Collapsing onto the ground, his lungs burned and his hands were frozen around the staff, requiring Faith's help to pry them away from the wood.

"I felt her die." He winced, trying to work the blood back into his fingers.

Buffy was guarded as she surveyed the curious faces around them, mentally accounting for the men who hadn't returned and measuring the immeasurable cost of human life. "Riley, Sam, and Aaron are safe. Cara's dead."

"How?" Gunn was shocked. "I know she didn't get past us."

"Probably climbed up through one of the look outs, when we opened the door it relaxed the lock down. It doesn't matter now."

Silence settled over the group as they took in the information and slowly began to relax. The first crisis was behind them. Medics quietly produced aid kits and began bandaging injuries the group had sustained during their run. There was too much to say and no words that fit. Gradually they filtered away from the door, ignoring the muffled howling from outside. Returning to the Command Center, the atmosphere was somber and awkwardly aware that their commander was absent with the longest part of night still ahead.

"Spike, Faith." Buffy spoke up, running her fingers over the bandage on her forehead. "Willow…I need you. Angel, Xander, Giles. Everyone else please leave."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Wesley looked alarmed at the prospect of leaving. "Shouldn't the rest of us be in on any planning sessions?"

"Watcher's right. Don't want to be left out of the loop if it's the same to you." Gunn agreed with a reluctant glance at Wesley.

"We're not planning anything other than Dawn's funeral. You're welcome back when we get to Cordelia's. Now please leave." Buffy's voice was icy.

Spike could tell that none of the Los Angeles gang was particularly happy about the arrangement but they grudgingly left the room and the rest of them gathered into a circle around the large table of maps. He dug into his pocket for the token and set it down gently.

"What's that?" Buffy frowned.

"Might be our ticket out, opens a portal to somewhere safer than here. Finn said it was a worst-case scenario precaution. But it only works above ground so it'd be another slash and burn."

"Good." Buffy bit her lower lip thoughtfully. "We can use that."

"What you got in mind, B?" Faith settled into a chair.

"We're not safe here. Not even here. Cara didn't kill Dawn, there's someone else." Buffy's eyes were on the table between then, her fingers tapping lightly on one of the maps as she spoke. "And it's just a matter of time before whoever it was comes after the rest of us. That's why only you guys are here. I know I can trust all of you. No one else can know anything that goes on in this room."

"You can trust my friends," Angel promised. "And you know Wesley."

"I want to, I do, but someone stabbed us in the back and I'm all out of trust."

Spike wondered when the façade of strength that Buffy was putting out there for everyone to see would finally wane and fall. Or maybe this really was Buffy. The Buffy that no one in that room had ever seen. Woman and Slayer melded together and forged into something stronger than the two could be separately. He caught a meaningful look exchanged between Buffy and Faith. He hadn't the slightest clue what it meant but knew that more than just eye contact had passed between the two.

"So we fight our way out, make a run for it." Xander proposed. "Riley's out there with the entire US military, they can clear a path. And we've got a hundred strapping marines right here trained to kill demons."

Buffy shook her head, "Riley will do what can from outside Sunnydale to help but I've seen what's out there and we can't fight all of them even with every man here. Even if we do survive, at what cost? How many people will die to keep us alive?"

"Buffy?" Giles' brow furrowed and there was an expression halfway between suspicion and fear on his face. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

Buffy took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "The only way those demons leave is if they think all three Slayers are dead. One down, two to go. If we fight, we lose everyone, so we get out the only way we can. We die."