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.

50. Found

Note: I really bit off more than I could chew with Part 3 and there are some things that I wanted to do that just didn't work. Hopefully, they didn't detract too much from the overall fic and hopefully the ending will be satisfying for everyone who has stuck with this monster. J Thanks for reading and for all the support and kind words. You have been wonderful and more appreciated than I have words for. Happy ficcing!

Found

The full power of the overhead lights transformed the surgery bay from nightmarish to surreal. Someone had draped a lab coat over the bodies of Dr. James and the Marine, hiding them from view until they could be moved to cold storage. Leather restraints hung slack from the surgery table, adding to the B-movie ambience and leaving another piece of the puzzle for Faith to chew on. It was a hunch that had brought her to the room where Cara had escaped. A hunch and something Buffy had said without speaking. A feeling of solidarity and trust between Slayers. Something that, as ludicrous as it sounded in words or on paper, meant that they needed to understand what Cara had done. There were hidden agendas running somewhere in the background and she had an unshakable sense that this room could lead her to them.

She pulled the fabric away from the guard's body and frowned at the syringe sticking out of his chest. A quick glance around the room found more syringes on the countertop. Sifting through them, she matched them to the labels inside the medkit where they had been stored. Adrenaline, painkillers. A lot of painkillers. Something Cara would have needed if she'd known there was a fight coming. She glanced back at the restraints. Willow's girlfriend was still shaken and in shock, barely able to speak in complete sentences, let alone tell them what had happened. The lab technician who had accompanied Dr. James was still down for the count, which left only the room and the dead bodies as witnesses.

Blood spatter on the wall. Too far to be from the bullet wound in the doctor's chest and the Marine wasn't cut. Cara's blood then. She checked the man's fists. Bruised and red with blood that wasn't his. His gun was on the ground beside him. Why hit her enough to do that much damage and not shoot her? It didn't make sense and it certainly wasn't in the training manual.

"Any clues?" Xander stepped through the door with a grimace.

"Lot of rage." Faith motioned to the blood spatter and the Marine's body. "He hit her. Dozen times maybe. That's personal."

Xander knelt down and picked up the discarded ID tags. "First edition tags. He was here when she tore the place up." He tipped his head to the side, noticing that the Marine had been stripped of his uniform. "That's how we missed her, she was wearing his clothes."

"Hiding in plain sight." She wondered how anyone with those burns hadn't stood out from the crowd even with the uniform. "Something doesn't add up."

"Slayer sense tingling?"

"Big time." Faith tried to recreate the scene in her mind, imagining what might have happened. "She shot herself full of painkillers."

"Combat cocktails." Nodding with understanding, he stood up and stepped carefully over the bodies to inspect the rest of the room. He gave a low whistle as he counted the empty syringes.

"Plus the one sticking out of the guy's chest."

"Never knew she was a junkie." His eyes strayed to the far wall. "Hey, Faith. What does that look like to you?"

Faith followed his gaze. "Bullet holes."

"Ricochet." He motioned to dings in the heavy metal struts that crossed the ceiling. "Came at her firing?"

"Probably." She took a closer look at the gun and found more blood, "and he hit her with more than his fists."

"Maybe the good doctor forgot to hit the deck." Xander crouched down to examine the doctor's body. "The lab lackey has a nice boot print shaped bruise on his chest, landed over there. That's our Slayer's work."

"But she didn't kill him." Faith stood where she figured Cara must have been hiding. "She was behind them, she could have killed all three without breaking a nail. Knocks one out…guard gets off a shot that kills the doc. And she lets him hit her."

"She was pretty torn up before that, Faith. Not really in prime fighting condition."

"No one pumps that much adrenaline into their system and then just takes it." Faith shook her head, "I checked the camera feed. It was relaying but not recording. Guess they forgot to hit the switch."

"Forgot?"

"That's what I said," Faith said dryly. "By the time someone looked at the monitor, there were bodies. That's when they hit the alarm."

"Well," Xander fiddled with the buckle on one of the restraints, checking the release mechanism. "She had more than a few enemies here. Not out of the question that some of them wanted a little payback."

"But why wait? Why not shut off the camera and get to it?"

"Waited for the base to lock down? I mean, what're you gonna do? Court marshal someone who might die tomorrow? Why not wait until everyone's attention is anywhere but here?"

"Which it was. With Cordy and Dawn…" she trailed off, unable to form the words.

"Not to mention Sam's rather untimely going into labor."

"But how could they have known either of those were going to happen?"

"True. Sam was due any day." He raked his fingers through his hair, his voice carefully neutral despite the grief in his eyes. "I've searched my brain for some reason why anyone would want Cordy and Dawn out of the way. The guys loved Dawn, she's everyone's little sister. And no one even knew Cordy, so they wouldn't want to kill her. Not in the first twenty-four hours at least. Given another day of her company and maybe."

"Someone's playing us. Someone set this up, I can feel it."

"But who?" He shrugged and stepped carefully back over the bodies. "There are a lot of people who wanted Cara dead and the doctor was probably collateral damage."

"Maybe." Faith turned the puzzle over in her head. "Anyone wanting Cara dead probably wouldn't be too happy about the idea of baby Caras."

"So they plan to bump her off before they can take out the ovaries. Wait for the doctor to check on her but Cara's already awake and bam, it all goes sideways."

"Already awake?" She repeated.

"Yeah. Big miscommunication there. Guess the Buffster never mentioned that Angel snacked on her. Everyone here thought she was drugged and out for the night." Xander stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Gotta love the Scoobies but sometimes we really aren't good with the words."

"She went after Angel, right?"

"According to tall and broody himself…who is acting mighty strange, if I do say so myself."

"And he bit her. Then everyone thought she was drugged." Faith repeated tiredly, rubbing her forehead. "It doesn't track. None of this does. If she wasn't drugged, why not bust out and just kill the guard? Why wait? Why did everyone fucking wait?"

"Well, no point in setting the trap off early, I guess. We get wind that she's mobile and she ends up Slayer shish kabob. Bides her time, shoots enough morphine to kill an elephant, let alone the pain, and it's welcome to my parlor said the spider to the tasty treats in white lab coats and camouflage."

"Unless," Faith bent down to replace the lab coat over the guard's body. "Unless things went down exactly how they were supposed to."

"Now I'm the thing not tracking." He gave her a quizzical look as he followed her out of the surgery bay.

"Three men, all of whom know exactly what they're dealing with and one who's got a big hate on for Cara, enter a room and find the Slayer not where they left her."

"With you so far."

"And they get as far as the table, letting Cara to get behind them."

Xander blinked, realization dawning. "Smart thing would be to back out and seal the room. I see an empty table where there should have been Slayer? Run like hell."

"So there's someone else strapped to the table."

"Leia." He paled at the idea.

"Right. Which means she went in before the Doc. So, did naked guy let her in? Not likely that someone who was here when Cara massacred half the base is going to let a civilian anywhere near her."

"You're right." Xander scratched his head. "It doesn't make sense."

"And she was in there long enough for Cara to strap her down. How did Cara slip the restraints in the first place?"

"Houdini reincarnated?"

Faith glanced down the hallway to make sure no ears were listening. "Maybe, chains don't really seem to work on her. So Leia's in there, face bruised up, and Cara's slipped the leash. Still doesn't make sense."

"Maybe Leia went in on her own two feet. Distracted the guard, maybe he was down the hall or not looking."

"Would she really do that? Knowing how dangerous Cara was?"

"Granted, people don't usually enjoy being in the same room with serial killers. It'd be like letting Hannibal Lector out of the cage. In a locked room. Just the two of you. She didn't strike me as suicidal." He frowned as another possibility occurred to him, "Do you think she was planning on killing Cara herself? The lawyer type people did offer her a deal."

"Either that or the dead guard was in on it and forced Leia in that room. Maybe hoping Cara would kill her, maybe just getting her out of the way. I'm pretty sure that Cara leaving that room alive was the last thing he wanted." Faith paused a junction in the hallways. "Were they waiting for Dawn and Cordy to get killed or for Riley and Sam to leave the base?"

"This sounds like a good place to apply that scientific razor of logic and deduction. There's no way anyone could have known Sam was going to go into labor."

"Then what happened in that room had something to do with Cordy and Dawn." They stood for several moments at the fork in the corridor, staring at each other until Faith sighed and shook her head. "This is making my brain hurt."

Xander nodded in agreement. "Should we consult General Buffy about our cockamamie theories?"

"Not sure it changes anything." Faith shrugged. "Just means her plan makes more sense. We're sitting targets now, at least topside we might have a fighting chance."

"Um, we're talking about the plan where you die? Can I just say for the record that I'm not comfortable with this?"

Faith kept her mouth shut, instinctively knowing the truth about Buffy's plan from the glint of determination she'd seen in the Slayer's eyes. The idea itself felt so strange that she couldn't wrap her mind around it; couldn't grapple and come to grips with it. Two more Slayers had to die for the others to live and for the demons to think that victory was theirs. It was a sleight of hand with an inevitably violent and gruesome ending. Her stomach churned and she couldn't tell if it was the usual nausea or knowing exactly what would happen. She wanted her survival instinct to kick in and tell her that it was okay to even consider, that she would eventually be able to forgive herself. She started down the hallway without actually knowing where she was going. Just moving because it was better than standing still. Xander padded beside her quietly, either assuming that she was pondering her mortality or lost in his own serious thoughts.

They found Buffy and Willow peering into a storage closet. A glance through the doorway revealed too much blood and Faith winced at the sudden knowledge of exactly where Cordy and Dawn had died. Willow gave them a little wave, her brow lined with concentration and concern. Buffy's face was impassive, arms folded and eyes solidly locked onto the bloody floor.

"Did you find anything?" she asked without looking up.

"We have a few theories." Xander reached out to brush his fingers over Willow's shoulder, giving her a comforting smile. "You guys have any luck?"

Buffy nodded slowly, "Dawn was shot in the back, Cordy was facing the killer. From the way she was holding her, I think Dawn was shot first and Cordy was trying to stop the bleeding."

"Blood on the wall." Willow waved down the hall. "Either dragged or forced into the storage room."

"Ballsy, doing it out here. Someone coulda seen it. Didn't anyone hear anything?" Faith examined the blood pattern on the wall.

"Probably used a silencer, we only have a few hundred of them in any given direction. And gunshots aren't exactly uncommon here, if it was muffled no one would have given it a second thought." Buffy crouched down to get a new perspective on the scene. "Anything Will?"

"It's the lack of that's telling." Willow shook her head with a familiar puzzled expression on her face. "This room, the whole hallway, should reek with death and it doesn't. All I feel here is life. As if all the death and violence were washed away. I'm not even picking up any fear and there should have been fear. If Cordy, if she saw…there should at least be fear."

"Any idea why?"

"Something happened here, Buffy. Something mystical. And it was big." Willow motioned to the boxes of supplies that had fallen from the shelves. "It looks like an earthquake."

"We didn't feel anything." Xander leaned into the closet, careful not to step in any of the blood. "An earthquake localized to this closet? Weirder things have happened. Weirder things have happened, right?"

Buffy frowned, "We're done here. I'll get someone to clean up the blood."

"Buff?"

"Someone shot them, someone who snuck up behind them like a damn coward." She glared at the blood stained wall with terrifying fervor. "Less than fifty feet from the library, where Dawn was, and they were headed west toward the Command Center. Where I told her to be."

"It's not your fault, Buffy." Willow said gently.

"I know. Someone killed them before they could get to me and that usually happens when people have information I need." Steel in her eyes, Buffy started toward the library.

"Oh, the tangled webs we weave," Xander chimed, falling in line as the group entered the research unit. "Where do we start?"

"Giles had Dawn on the computers looking up references." Buffy surveyed the room with narrowed eyes. "There. Two chairs pushed away, books open. Someone left in a hurry." They were careful not to disturb anything, tipping their heads to the side to read one of the books. Or at least stare at the pretty symbols.

"It's Sumerian." Willow's voice faltered and she looked away. "We should ask Giles."

"He's around here somewhere." Buffy stroked the book gently, almost lovingly. "Dawn can read Sumerian."

"This doesn't belong here. No Genesis stamp." Xander flipped through the binder across the table. "In fact, look at this, Wolfram and Hart letterhead."

"Cordelia brought it with her. A reference key, something to do with Angel." Willow caught sight of Giles, his nose in a pile of leather bindings across the room, and scooped up the book. "I'll ask Giles what's in this."

Buffy took the binder from Xander and began to skim through it. "It's about a prophecy. A vampire with a soul. This is that prophecy about Angel, where he becomes human or something."

"Didn't Spike's big return to the land of the living scratch that out?"

Faith winced, knowing that Xander was actually trying to be delicate about it. "Well, Spike's not exactly human. I mean, he's more like us. Like a Slayer."

"But not a Slayer." Buffy kept reading, her voice distant. Her fingers absently traced over the bandage covering one of the wounds she'd gotten during her time outside the base. "We're dark. Tainted."

"Are we back to that? Look, there's nothing evil about you. At least, now there isn't. Got all that evil out of your system years ago." Xander assured them both.

Faith noticed that Buffy's gaze had moved to her stomach and self-consciously adjusted her t-shirt as though trying to cover up any evidence of the baby inside. It was unnerving.

"Who knows you're pregnant?" Buffy kept her voice soft, almost too low to hear.

"Damn near everyone as far as I can tell."

"Cara said they'd come after Spike and then you. That they'd destroy this whole town."

"The proverbial They? Or are we talking a They that we have a face for?" Xander's eyebrows rose when Buffy quietly tapped the logo on the binder. "Guess Angel brought us some new enemies then. Demon potluck, what else do you bring to a party on the Hellmouth?"

"They bugged my house, they asked Leia to kill Cara, and they've been pulling strings we don't even know about." Buffy sighed wearily.

"The Cara thing really blew up in their faces." Xander rocked back on his heels. "Faith and I couldn't figure out why Leia was anywhere near our favorite psycho killer. We did remember to tell her about the psycho killer part, right? That there was no way she would have a snowball's chance against her, you know, if she tried."

"She knew." Buffy shook her head and shut the binder with a snap. "I mean, I think she knew. Willow would have told her, right? Of course Willow would have told her. That's not something you don't tell someone."

"Is she talking yet?" Faith changed the subject quickly. "It would help. Get her version of the story."

"Willow gave her some sedatives to knock her out. She was pretty much freaking."

"Wouldn't you be?" Xander shuddered. "Cara was scary enough but to actually be there and watch her kill people? That's scarred for life material."

"Guys!" Willow was hurrying toward them, her eyes flashing with excitement. "This book? It's about ancient races. Not really demons, demon human hybrids. These are called Purifiers." She pointed to the picture of the creature in long robes. "And apparently, they're big on the glowing."

"Like Cordy?" Xander took a closer look.

"Dawn must have figured out what she was. Is that important enough to kill them? If Cordy was some sort of demon Purifier thing, wouldn't she already know that?" Buffy picked up the binder with one hand as she moved away from the table.

"I kinda had the impression they'd never really found out what she was but you're right, it's hardly breaking news worthy of double homicide." Willow sighed with frustration. "Nancy Drew never had cases like this. Hers were all easy and straightforward, and she never had to deal with demons."

"Faith?" Buffy checked her watch, waiting for some unknown timetable to advance. "Any idea where that husband of yours is?"

"I think he wanted to check the lookouts." Faith could only give a vague answer. Spike hadn't seemed upset when Buffy had unveiled the plan of dying. In fact, he hadn't said a word as he'd gotten up from the table and walked out of the room. With Spike, that usually meant he was too furious to speak and once he'd worked it out in his own head he would come find her.

"You two should get some rest. We should be out of here the second the sun comes up, if we can stay alive until then." She swiveled her head in a slow circle, grimly suspecting malice from the library itself. "It's going to be a long night."

Conversation over for the time being, the group split into factions with Buffy and Willow retreating to the far corner of the library and Xander joining Giles behind the monstrous pile of books. Faith watched them for a few seconds before leaving the library to find Spike and do what she was told. She was dead on her feet anyway and could use some sleep. Rubbing her arms did little to warm her skin from the cold, unnatural silence that had settled into the base; skin prickling along the back of her neck at every sound and hint of movement around her. Which hand held the gun that had cut down Cordy and Dawn? Behind whose face was the traitor lurking? They'd gone to ground just trying to stay safe and had found themselves in the jaws of something they didn't know how to fight.

Wesley rounded the corner a beat ahead of her and gave her a small nod in greeting. "Faith. Any progress?"

"A little." She hoped that he couldn't hear the guilt in her voice, unable to trust anyone and having to continuously lie was proving easier said than done. "Too bad it's not TV. Catch the killer in less than an hour, guaranteed and with time for commercials."

"Yes. Reality is disappointing that way." He smiled. "How are you holding up?"

"Five by five." The familiar phrase felt awkward and dry on her tongue. "A little stir crazy being cooped up like this, the usual."

"Perhaps some sparring would help? I haven't completely lost my skills at training a Slayer."

Faith snorted a laugh, "As considerable as those talents were, that wouldn't be much of a loss." She winced when his face fell and hurried to sooth the hurt of her words. "Sorry, Wes. You did real well with Cara. Not counting the part where she killed a bunch of people."

"Yes, well, she was a lost cause from the very beginning. But one never gives up, I suppose."

The hair on the back of her neck rose at the unexpected dismissal but she shook it off and tried to smile. Paranoia wouldn't get them anywhere if it led to doubting the only people they could trust. "I'm going to catch some shut eye. B's got something cooking under all that blonde. Might need the rest yourself." The twinge of guilt she felt for not being able to tell him more was quickly overpowered by Buffy's insistence on silence and her own jittery nerves.

"Duly noted." His smile tightened, drawing his lips into a thin line.

"Wish I could chat but I need to find Spike and spend a little quality time, you know."

"Of course."

Faith hurried away, unable to brush off the creeping sensation wriggling up her spine and making her that much more anxious to find the safety of Spike's arms. Halfway down the hallway she realized that she had been holding her hands protectively over her stomach and stuffed them into her pockets with embarrassment. Now was no time to turn into an overprotective mother who jumped at shadows and would be next to useless in a fight. She needed a clear mind and all wits about her if she was going to help Buffy put her insane plan into motion.

She found Spike in the lookout that had a clear view of Sunnydale High School and, more importantly, the Hellmouth. His face was drawn with concentration, eyes fixed on the darkness around them and the dancing lights that shouldn't have been part of the picture. A subtle relaxation in his shoulders meant that he'd sensed her and brought a smile to her lips. She reached out to touch his back with the tips of her fingers, letting him know she was there and glad to see him, to stare out into the night beside him.

"I know there's more to this plan than you and Buffy dying," he said softly. "You don't have to tell me. Just let me know what I can do to help."

"Thank you." She leaned against him, more relieved than she could possibly describe. Lying to him had been the one thing she had dreaded the most.

"Activity at the high school." Spike nodded in the general direction. "Not sure what's goin' on."

"Probably trying to open the Hellmouth. Seems someone's trying to do that every other Tuesday."

"Yeah." He twisted to the side and pulled her against his chest, caressing her hair softly. "Come to call me for another group meeting?"

"No." She smiled up at him. "I'm here to ask you to come to bed. Nothing's going down until morning so we might as well get some sleep."

"Sleep?" He raised one eyebrow suggestively.

"That too."

---

The room was dark when Buffy keyed in her entry code and the door slid open. She hesitated for a moment before stepping through the doorway and letting it slide closed behind her. Unsure if she should reach for the light switch, she remained in darkness and tried to ignore the pounding of her heart. Fabric rustled in the direction of the bunk and suddenly she wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing.

"Buffy?" Angel's voice was thick and groggy. "What are you doing here?" A dim light flickered to life and illuminated his bunk. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair tousled by tossing and turning in the narrow bed.

She placed the binder softly on the footlocker that served as a coffee table and took a seat at the end of the bed. Staring at her shoes was easier than meeting his gaze. How was she supposed to feel?

"Buffy?" His voice was concerned.

"When were you going to tell me?" She kept her eyes on her toes.

"Tell you what?"

Without speaking, she reached toward him and placed her hand against his bare arm. He flinched beneath her touch. The burned skin had turned smooth, only angry red left as a reminder that he'd nearly lost his life. It would heal and he would be the same Angel once again. Almost. Gathering her courage, she looked up and met his eyes, "you're warm."

"It's the burns," he whispered.

"Is it? Tell me that's all it is because if it's not then I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"How did you know?"

"I'm not sure. Something Willow said and then I found that." She motioned to the binder.

His eyes fell and he pulled away from her touch, climbing out of the bunk and pacing agitatedly across the room. "You can't count me out, Buffy. I can still be a part of this, I can still help."

"That wasn't what I meant." She folded her hands in her lap; afraid that if she moved too much everything would fall apart around her and take her with it. Take the fragile grip she had on the pain inside and set it loose just when she needed control.

"I'm sorry about the timing. I wish I could give it back." He raked his fingers through his hair. "I let you down."

"Angel."

"I can still fight."

She smiled up at him with a touch of sadness, "this is what you've always wanted, what you've worked so hard for. I'm happy for you."

He hesitated for a second before sitting down beside her and reaching for her hands, "this plan of yours. Tell me the truth, what's really going to happen?"

"I told you. The only way anyone else is going to survive is if two more Slayers die. The needs of the many."

"I don't believe you. You've got something else in mind, I know you." He searched her face for any sign of reassurance. "Tell me you have something else in mind."

"The time for Slayers is over, Angel. We're hardly what you'd call efficient. One Slayer against everything that's out there?" She shook her head but gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "It's okay. We all come with an expiration date and this is it."

"So you're just going to give up? Sacrifice yourself and Faith? What about the baby?"

She dropped her eyes before he saw the unspoken truth in them. "Faith and I understand the cost and we're willing to pay it."

"The rest of the world isn't willing to pay that price!"

"How can I say that my life is more valuable than anyone else's? Do you want to hear that I don't want to die? I don't." Tears pricked at her eyes and made her voice quiver. "There's so much I still want to do. But I'm a dead end, Angel. I can't have children and I don't have any family left."

"You have us."

"Ironic, isn't it?" Smiling through her tears, she leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder. "You left because you couldn't give me a normal life. Kids, a husband who could marry me in a church in the daytime, and it turns out those things weren't meant for me anyway."

"Don't give up, Buffy. Please."

"I haven't given up." She lifted her head to look at him. "Don't you see? For the first time, everything is clear. Cara knew that she was going to die out there, knew that it was her time. And now I know what she felt. I'm not afraid, Angel."

"Buffy." He stroked her cheek gently.

"You think I'm doing this for the world? I'm not. I'm not that good of a person." Lacing her fingers through his, she leaned against him again. "I'm doing this so Xander can finally get married and Willow can finish her thesis. So that Giles can see England again. I'm doing this for you, Angel. You worked so hard and the least I can do is make sure you get the chance to grow old."

"I can't let you do this." His voice shook, breath warm against her hair and cheek.

"This is my purpose, this is what I was born to do." The repeated words echoed in the stillness of the room and she held on tightly, praying for the strength to do what she had to.

---

There was nothing unusual about Willow entering the morgue with her familiar half smile and look of concern, nothing at all unusual about asking the technician for a few minutes alone with whatever was on the slab. Except this time there were familiar faces lying in the stone coldness of death and she wasn't actually able to pull off even half of a smile. The legs of the stool scraped against the tile and she gingerly took a seat at the top of the table, reaching out to brush her hands ever so gently over Dawn's pale skin and brown hair.

"I never got to ask you what happened." The hair was still silky with the conditioner that Dawn used. "You changed. You were…bigger, somehow. Greater. There was something ageless in your eyes. I didn't have time to weasel it out of you." She glanced over at the equally still form of Cordelia. "Probably not how you wanted to go…in a storage closet with Cordelia. I've been there, I feel your pain."

The clock on the wall clicked with each long second passing by and after as many clicks as she could allow herself, she pulled away from Dawn and reached down for the duffle bag of supplies. Herbs, feathers, human hair, fresh blood, a totem or two. Just the necessities she would need for making the dead get up and walk again. Another glance at the watch. Night was slipping away from her and the spells she had to perform weren't easy. There was no room for mistakes now; she had to get it right the first time because there would be no second chance. Each second was borrowed as it was, on loan from the unknown killer in their midst. The first spell was the easiest and turned everyone's eyes away from the morgue. Nothing to see here but the dead; there was no reason to look for the witch inside spinning her web of deceit.

She snipped a lock of Dawn's hair and placed it in a bowl. Cordelia's snippet curled against the bottom of another bowl. Their blood was congealing, bodies stiffening, but she collected the few lazy drops she could and added that to their respective bowls. Candles, incense, powders spread across the floor to focus both her mind and the energy around her. She hoped that the powers she was calling wouldn't sense the fear that coated the back of her throat with a sour taste; that they would only feel her resolve and her determination. Before the trip to New Orleans, she wouldn't have dared this magic; wouldn't have believed it even possible to weave the complicated pattern that Buffy required. One last look at Dawn's calm face steadied her nerves rather than increasing her doubts and she took a deep breath.

"Forgive me, Dawnie."

In a half-hearted attempt to mimic the external world, the lights in the library had dimmed to a fraction of their strength and made the use of the table lamps necessary if one didn't wish to strain their eyes. Fred hadn't quite made the decision yet, her hand still beside the switch as she considered the options that lay before her. Most of the people she knew had stumbled off to bed and the staff had switched over to the night crew, the tenuous friends she had made now replaced by complete strangers. Her eyes were dry from too much crying and too many hours awake, she had to close them periodically just to keep reading. It reminded her of being cloistered away in the university library studying for final exams and even though she knew there wouldn't be a test in the morning, she was still terrified of putting her head down and being unprepared.

Rationally she knew that sleep was best, that she should follow the example of her friends and try pulling a blanket over her head in search of peace but she doubted it would ever come. She was too strung out, too raw from the past hours and days. Half of the notepad beside her had been used up with abstract equations, what she could remember from her work on the Hellmouth equations without having all of her notes. It kept her mind just occupied enough to prevent the unproductive spinning of worry and paranoia. A nerdy form of bravado that made her feel slightly safer even though it didn't prevent the nameless gunman from shooting her down at that very table. She gave the room another furtive glance, peering into the shadows and telling herself that any shapes she saw in the darkness were only figments of her imagination. What if there was more than one traitor inside Genesis? How many people had Wolfram and Hart managed to sink their claws into with offers of wealth and power?

Shivering a little at the thought, she pulled her books closer and switched on the table lamp. At least here she had something to take her mind off of the terrifying possibilities. Alone in a bunk trying to sleep would only drive her mad. Then again, the whole world had gone topsy-turvy to the point that she might get seasick from all the changing. Where was a girl supposed to plant her feet if the ground kept disappearing? Guiltily, she wondered if she dared wake up Wesley and ask if he wanted to sit with her. He seemed upset that he was being excluded from whatever Buffy was planning, probably afraid that people would treat him differently now that he had died and come back. She couldn't blame him, being slightly terrified of his possible fragility herself. Knowing he would hate being treated as though he was made of glass she simply kept her distance, afraid that she would offend him more with her hovering than her absence.

She sighed and rubbed her weary eyes. The black and white lines of the world had mixed and intermarried, smudged together by good and evil alike until there was nothing left but gray and she was drowning in it. In Gunn's distrust of no longer dead Wesley and now dead Cordelia. She winced a little, hurting from loss but beyond the point where she could distinguish who she was mourning for and why. The group was falling apart around her ears, with Angel hiding away in the darkness without a word of explanation and no Cordelia to drag him back to the living. No one else had ever been reach Angel the way she had. Even Lorne had been uncharacteristically grave, merely shaking his head when she had tried to coax him into a bit of research. Of course, he'd never really been a fan of musty old books as they occasionally sent the reader to places they didn't want to be. She wistfully imagined a book that would carry them all away to a place that would be safe and sound. A place where they could finally stop fighting, where they could rest. Maybe she was getting too old for a life of action and adventure.

"Fred?"

It was barely a whisper but the voice jerked her out of her thoughts with such force that she bumped the table and sent a pile of books tumbling to the floor. She sighed with relief when she saw that it was just Wesley. "Nearly gave me a heart attack, Wes. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."

"I'm very sorry. May I?" He gestured to the empty chair beside her.

"Please. I was getting lonely here by myself and you know me, when I get lonely I tend to get a little crazy." She smoothed the top page of her notebook and began piling the fallen books on top. "Couldn't sleep either?"

"No. There has been far too much to think about." His eyes were casually scanning the titles of her books. "Dimensional energies?"

"Still working on those Hellmouth equations. It's probably not useful anymore but there's some really elegant mathematics embedded in the dimensional structure and I kinda have this theory that if I could find a way to match up the mystical with the physics, I might really be onto something. Could even get a couple papers out of it, you know, make a difference." She straightened the stack of books and then kept straightening them even after they were perfect, unsure of what she should say.

"You don't need to feel uncomfortable around me, Fred. I'm the same old Wesley." His smile was soft and encouraging.

"I know. It's just…you were dead. I had your blood on my hands." Slipping back into her seat, she fiddled with her pencil nervously. "This is gonna sound crazy but do you remember calling me? I mean, your cell phone called me and there was no one there when I picked up. So either you called me or Cara called me. She did take your phone. But if, if she hadn't…I wouldn't have gotten there for another hour."

"And you think that maybe she wanted to you to find me so that you could save me?" He placed his hand over hers and stilled the frantic twisting of the pencil in her fingers.

"I guess I just keep wanting to believe that she wouldn't really have killed you."

"It's normal, I'd be worried if you didn't feel that way. You're a good person, Fred, and you want to believe there's goodness in others."

"Thanks." She ducked her head a little shyly, a weight lifted off her shoulders.

"I have question for you, Fred." He lifted her chin with one finger. "Has Buffy given out any more information about what she intends to do?"

"As far as I know, we're sitting tight. The base is on high alert and we're just going to ride out the storm." Fred shivered a little, goose bumps appearing on her rms as the base's air conditioning hummed to life above her. "She said Riley would arrange a bunch of tactical strikes to clear out a lot of the demons, hopefully it won't be long before we can get out of here."

"And about whoever murdered Dawn and Cordelia?"

"No new information that I've heard. It could be anyone. I guess there was a plot to kill Cara while she was unconscious and who knows how many spies Wolfram and Hart have planted here." Shivering for a completely different reason, she hugged one of the books closer for comfort. "How are you doing, Wes? Are you feeling okay?"

He smiled and nodded, "Quite well considering. A little tired and there's a strange aftertaste lingering, probably from the surgeries. But you needn't worry about me."

"I'm just glad to have you back."

"So? Is there anything else I've missed?" He gave her another broad smile. "The last few days are a bit hazy."

"It has been hectic, hasn't it?" Wrapping her arms around the stack of books, she rested her chin on the top and tried to think if there was anything else pertinent that he might need to know.

"I'm vaguely remembering that Faith and Spike are…"

"Married," she finished matter-of-factly. "And I think Faith's pregnant. No one's said anything but she seems to be a lot more cautious than I remember Faith being. And a few odd comments here and there that make more sense if she is." Her cheeks flushed and she sat up straight. "I shouldn't gossip. I'm sorry. I'm just tired and my brain is all fuzzy."

"No, it's fine. I had wondered the same thing myself." He waved away her embarrassment. "Well, I supposed that's good news. The Slayer lines do need to be regenerated."

"I'm not sure this is exactly what the mystical Slayer powers had in mind since Spike isn't exactly a run of the mill kind of guy."

"That might lead to a rather unusual child."

She was unable to stifle a wide yawn, giving him a small smile once she was able. "Guess I should head to bed. Buffy wants everyone to be rested up for tomorrow."

"That sounds like a very sensible plan. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"What about you, Wes?"

"I have a few more ideas I'd like to look into. Research." He reached for one of the books.

"Don't stay up too late," she chided him lightly as she pushed away from the table and got to her feet. "Good night, Wes." He gave her a small wave and returned to his book. A smile on her face as she headed for the doors, she was glad she'd stayed up late enough to talk to him. It felt like a lifetime since she'd had a good conversation with her favorite Watcher. Patting her pants pockets, she realized she'd left her key card at the table and turned around to return for it, nearly colliding with Wesley.

"You forgot this." He held out the card.

"Thanks." She tucked the card into her pocket. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"Fred? There's something." He looked down at the floor almost shyly.

"Yes?"

"I realized something, when I was lying there on the floor in the motel room and I knew I was going to die." Searching blue eyes met hers, almost shining in the dim light. "I realized how much it hurt that I would never see you again."

"Wes." She blushed uncomfortably. "We've been through this."

"And we were wrong." He closed the distance between them with a single step, reaching out to slip his hand into her hair, curving around the back of her neck as he pulled her against him. His lips met hers with a heady combination of hesitation and determination. She melted against him, soaking up the heat of his body and returning his kiss fervently. When he pulled away, he was smiling down at her and stroking the back of her neck softly.

"Wes." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Was that a mistake?"

"No, no. It was wonderful." She looked away, trying to calm her racing thoughts. "And it hurt to lose you, too. I guess I didn't realize, until you were gone."

He kissed her again before letting go, pulling his hands and heat away. "I should let you get some sleep. I just wanted you to know."

The war inside her head reached a new level of frantic noise and she wished she could put her hands over her ears to shut it out. "I…I," she stammered nervously, reaching out to take his hands and throw caution to the wind.

"Yes?"

"I don't want to be alone," she blurted out recklessly.

His fingers tightened around hers and he smiled, "I would love to keep you company, if you'd like."

"I feel a little silly."

"Don't." He pressed another quick kiss against her forehead. "Lead the way and I shall follow."

Her feet moved faster than she intended, driven by the racing in her head as she tried to make sense of what was going on. They'd been through this before and decided that they should both move on with their lives, that whatever had been between them was far too complicated for their already too complicated world. But that was then and this was now. She'd lost him once and had been given a second chance. And she really didn't want to be alone. They could all die tomorrow, did it really matter how she spent tonight? The keycard shook in her hands as she swiped it through the control panel. The door had barely hissed shut when Wesley's lips were against hers again. She fumbled for the lights but gave up when his hands found the buttons of her shirt and his lips moved down her neck.

"This is crazy." She whispered, clutching at his shoulders.

"I know." Teeth caught the sensitive skin just below her ear and cold air hit her bare skin, making his warm hands that much more delicious as they slid over her shoulders and back.

Words stuck in her throat, leaving her capable only of breathing and indecipherable moaning. She was hot now, unable to feel the cold, a few stray tendrils of hair clinging to her skin while the rest tumbled wildly over her shoulders. Lost in the sensation of heat and skin, it took her a few seconds to register the feeling of something cold and damp crawling up the middle of her back. Confused, she tried to twist around and reach for whatever it was. He caught her wrists tightly.

"Wesley? I think there's something on me." She struggled against his grip, trying to understand why he wouldn't let her go. The coldness moved up between her shoulder blades and she thought she could feel liquid dripping down her back.

"The more you fight, the more it will hurt," he whispered.

"Wesley?" The rising level of panic registered in her voice.

Sharp teeth or claws sunk into her skin at the base of her neck and she began to fight against him in earnest as the pain dug deeper into her flesh. He moved both of her wrists to one hand and covered her mouth with his other hand. She was screaming against his fingers and the thing continued burrowing under her skin, stars beginning to dot her vision as energy drained from her muscles. Paralysis spread through her body and she slumped against his chest, sliding to the floor when Wesley let go of her. The lights sprang to life, searing into her eyes and making them water as her pupils slowly closed. He crouched beside her and checked the pulse in her wrist with cold detachment. She tried to speak, her chest was rising and falling as she inhaled and exhaled, but she couldn't get her throat or mouth to cooperate.

"It will be a few more minutes before the parasite has complete control of you," he told her casually, his eyes moving over her bare chest. She could feel the brush of skin as his fingers touched her stomach but couldn't pull away or stop him. Desperately she hoped that the hesitation she could see in his eyes meant that he was going to stop whatever he'd done to her before it was too late. The flicker of hope died with the hunger in his voice. "It has been a very long time since I've felt a woman's skin." There was nothing she could do, terrified and furious, but stare out of her own body while he picked her up and carried her to her bunk, laying her gently down on the blankets. The hunger was still there, making his familiar blue eyes sharp and frightening.

"It's an interesting form of existence. Living without being alive. You move, you speak, you think, but you can't feel anything." He turned his hand over slowly as though inspecting it for flaws. "No warmth or cold, no smooth or rough. Just nothing. After so long, you forget what it is to feel. Forget what your skin is for other than to hold organs that no longer function from spilling out onto the floor." His focus turned back to her and she could feel his hand, palm down, on her stomach. "It will be different for you. You'll be able to feel everything but you won't be able to move and the words you speak won't be your own, they'll belong to the parasite in your brain, which, of course, belongs to me. You see, it's my job to see that no one gets out of here alive and you're going to help me." He smiled at the same moment the realization dawned that somehow this wasn't Wesley, seeing the terror in her eyes and nodding. "You've figured it out by now. We didn't bring your Watcher back." He stood up beside the bunk and very slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes watching her closely. She raged silently in her head and tried to look anywhere but at him.

"Please understand that this is truly not something a man of my position would ever do. At least, not personally and not while you can't even scream, that does take the fun out of it. But it has been such a long time." Warm fingers brushed away the tears that had slipped from the corners of her eyes. "Years of not being alive but not allowed the peace of death changes you in ways you can't imagine in that pretty little southern head of yours. It made Lilah more human, if you can believe that, made her doubt her purpose. Such irony. As for myself, nothing so noble occurred in the time since my death and while I know that I should find what I'm about to do distasteful, I'm afraid it's quite the opposite."

His eyes were cold and his voice flat as he slid off his shirt, "My wife, may she rest in peace, was murdered by Darla and then Angel sealed the rest of us in that room to die. I would like to say that I forgave him for what happened, I really would. But I'm afraid that I've spent far too much time watching him bumble about incompetently, catered to by the Powers and the Senior Partners alike. He's special, he's prophesied. He's pathetic." The last word was spat out as though it tasted bad. She was trying with all her might to pretend she wasn't there, that she wasn't in the same room with a monster wearing Wesley's face. "This is just a little taste of my revenge. Wesley, Cordelia, you. I plan on taking everyone who matters to Angel away from him and everything he's fought for all these years. Although it would be a pity to waste such an intellect, perhaps I'll keep you after all this is done." He whispered something in a language she didn't understand and either out of mercy or preference, the words closed her eyes and blocked out the sight of him.

---

Gunn waited until Gwen was safely asleep before climbing out of the bunk they were sharing and getting dressed as quietly as possible. Sleep would soon be a precious commodity and he didn't want to take any of it from her while he was out chasing half-formed suspicions in the early hours of the morning. If he was wrong, he would climb back into bed and she would be none the wiser. The lights in the hallway were dimmed in the attempt to create artificial nightfall for the residents of the base. He found it unnerving, a permanent dusk that seemed to breed shadows within the darkened corridors. Buffy had chosen to keep the rest of them in the literal and figurative dark and Angel remained silent and broody than usual. The frustration at losing Cordelia was compounded by the fact that no one seemed to be doing anything or even want to do anything.

The hallways were nearly deserted and the crime scene was easy enough to find. Calling it a crime scene was almost humorous but he couldn't bring himself to laugh, slipping under the tape that crisscrossed over the storage room door. He didn't know what he expected to find but the floor had been freshly mopped and the shelves appeared undisturbed. It looked like an innocent supply closet that hadn't witnessed two murders. He crouched down and ran a finger over the cold tile, not even picking up any dust. Under Buffy's orders, the entire room had been wiped clean of any evidence. He wanted to be sympathetic and believe that Buffy was merely coping with her sister's death but he couldn't agree with her methods. They were Cordelia's friends, her family, and they should have been included in whatever decisions were made about her finding her killer. Instead, they had completely been cut out of the loop without so much as an explanation. There wasn't anything left for him to find.

Frustrated and helpless, he had to consciously keep himself from slamming the door behind him. Another spot on the wall had been taped off and looked freshly washed. He glanced back and forth between the wall and the supply closet. It would take someone with a bigger brain than his to make sense of the traces left behind. He retraced his steps, detouring just before he reached the door of the room he and Gwen shared. The echo of his knocking seemed too loud in the stillness of the hallway and the hair on the back of his neck prickled.

"Come on, Fred. I need that brain of yours." He muttered to himself and knocked again.

The door hissed open and Wesley blinked at him, naked except for a blanket wrapped around his waist. "Gunn? What's going on?"

Gunn was speechless, looking over Wesley's shoulder to see Fred's bare back in the bunk. Her hair was a loose tumble of golden brown over the pillow, her side rising and falling with the easy rhythm of sleep. Words continued to disappear as he grasped for them and he wasn't sure if he wanted to turn around and walk away or break Wesley's jaw.

"Does this bother you?" There was an edge of mockery in Wesley's voice that wasn't lost on Gunn.

"Should it?"

Wesley lazily glanced back at Fred and shrugged, "She's a grown woman capable of making her own decisions."

"No doubt. And we all know how long you've been wanting to scratch that itch."

"You have no idea." The smile was strangely cold.

"I'd like to speak to Fred alone if that's alright with you."

"I'd rather not wake her but if you insist." Wesley waved him into the room. He leaned down and whispered something to Fred, his hand sliding provocatively down to pull the blanket up over her naked body.

"Gunn? What is it?" She rolled over and rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Look, I'm sorry to bust in on…whatever this is."

"Don't be so immature, Gunn," she giggled as she sat up and reached for her clothes. "It's just sex, you don't have to be such a prude about it."

"I really don't want to hear this, it's…a little too much information, you know? You're like my sister." Gunn backed out of the room. "Just get some clothes on and come with me." He wanted to wipe the self-satisfied look off of Wesley's face, unsure of why he was so hostile toward a man who was his friend. Something about Wesley had changed.

Slipping back into her clothes, Fred tugged her hair into a tight ponytail and kissed Wesley on the lips. "Keep the bed warm, this will only take a minute."

Gunn felt as though he had insects crawling beneath his skin as he walked down the hallway again, keeping his distance from Fred with sudden awkwardness. She was humming something far too happy for what was going on around them. Scratching at the phantom bugs, he stole a sideways glance at her and found himself checking for anything unusual.

"So," he cleared his throat. "Wes seems to be bouncing right back. Everything working?"

"Gunn." She gave him a playful wink. "Yes, everything's just fine. You should be happy, you know he's wanted me for years."

"And you? I mean, you want him?"

She shrugged, "Of course I do. And I didn't want to be alone tonight. What exactly are we doing?"

Gunn shook off the weirdness of Fred and Wesley and tried to focus on the task at hand. "I want your take on the crime scene."

"Buffy's already been over it, Gunn. There's nothing left to find."

"Just look at it, okay?"

Fred stopped and gave him a patient look, head tipped to the side indulgently. "Gunn. I know you feel that you need to be doing something but I'm sure Buffy has everything under control. She is a Slayer."

"It's Cordelia's killer. The man, woman, or whatever who killed our friend. I can't sit and do nothing."

"All right. I'll take a look but you really need to get some rest." She took a deep breath and glanced back and forth between the taped off areas. "Found them in the supply closet, blood on the wall. Seems pretty straightforward."

"So what isn't straightforward?"

"I'm not a forensic scientist, Gunn. I'm really not qualified to even speculate."

"Anything at all?"

"Well." She stepped off a few paces down the hallway. "If I were going to kill two people in the hallway where anyone could come around the corner, I'd want to be as close to the closet as possible. And have a silencer obviously. But probably close to the victims too. So, maybe, there could be blood on the killer's clothing? I think I saw that on TV."

"Anything else?"

Fred pondered the hallway for a few more moments. "We need to find the gun and the clothes the killer was wearing. That would be proof. But you'd have to check every single bunk and this is a big base."

"Then I'll search every single room. By myself if I have to."

"Gunn." She shook her head, reaching out to pat his arm. "I know you were upset with Cordelia. I know that you two fought when we got here on the base and that you never got to apologize for being a big jerk. But this isn't going to help."

"No one's doing anything, Fred!" He pulled away from her, rubbing his head with growing agitation.

"You're starting to scare me, Gunn." She took a step back and when he turned around he thought he saw true terror in her eyes for a brief moment.

"I'm sorry, Fred. Just feels like the walls are starting to close in, you know."

"Go back to bed. Please. Leave this for morning when we're awake and have functioning brains. We'll find the killer."

"You're right." He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "Sorry to drag you out of bed. Or whatever."

"And you're okay with me and Wes, right?"

"Little weirded out but if you're happy then we're cool." He forced a smile even though his skin was still crawling.

They started down the hallway back toward their bunks and met Wesley at the junction in the hallway. Resisting the urge to grimace at the gratuitous affection and unable to stomach the images of Wesley nearly groping her in the hallway, he kept his eyes looking in the opposite direction and mumbled a thank you. The comfort of his bunk and Gwen couldn't come soon enough. Still trying to shrug off the uneasy sensation making his skin tingle, he swiped his key card and breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind him. The lights were on and Gwen was sitting at the small table near the bed.

"You would not believe the first class weirdness I just witnessed." He stopped short when he turned around. Gwen's face was white and frightened; one of his t-shirts was spread out before her, a spray of dark spots stood out against the white cotton and nestled in the fabric was a handgun with a silencer on one end.

"Gwen?"

"I found this in your stuff. Can you explain it?"

"I don't know anything about this."

"Is that blood?" She stood up abruptly and slammed her fists down on the table. "Tell me what's going on!"

He held up his hands, "Take it easy."

"I saw you with Cordelia, I saw you fighting with her. Tell me that's not her blood, please. Tell me you didn't do this!"

"Of course I didn't, that's crazy. Gwen, calm down."

"What am I supposed to think? Wesley asked if he could borrow a shirt and when I opened your bag, I found this." Her voice quavered and she folded her arms

tightly, as though trying to keep warm.

"I don't know how that got into my bag. You know I didn't bring a gun with me." A knock on the door set his already rattled nerves on edge and he glanced nervously between the door and Gwen. "Gwen, please."

The knocked sounded again, louder this time. "Gunn? It's Buffy. Is everything all right? Gwen?"

"Gwen," he hissed. She shook her head sadly, tears shining in her eyes.

Gunn lowered his hands as the door slid open, keeping his back straight and his shoulders set as he waited for whatever trap had been set for him. How or why he didn't know and from the looks on the faces in the hallway, he was better off keeping his mouth shut. Buffy wasn't alone, she'd come to pay him a visit with half a dozen armed guards.

---

The smell of coffee permeated Riley's office and the mug may have held the answers to the universe from the way Buffy was staring into the dark liquid. Faith was curled into the leather office chair across the room with a bottle of water rolling idly in her hands. They could hear arguing outside the office, a voice here and there getting loud enough to rise above the others.

"Sounds like a mutiny." Faith took a sip of water and winced at another shout.

"They're scared and confused."

"You know, B. I don't think Gunn's the guy. I mean, I've done a bit of demon killing with him and he's always been a straight shooter."

Buffy sipped her coffee and finally looked up, turning her eyes to the ceiling this time. "Gunn's too easy, too obvious. Whoever did this is smart. And careful."

"Too smart to leave a gun lying around. Maybe they're getting spooked, figure they better set someone up to take the suspicion off of them."

"This doesn't feel spooked, it feels arrogant." She set the coffee mug gently down on the desk. "But if the killer is framing Gunn, it might be safe to assume they're done killing for awhile. Or at least moving on to a non-killing part of their plot."

"God, I hope so. Everyone's wound tight enough to snap as it is."

"We need more time." Buffy frowned at her mug.

"Guess we could put everyone in the same room and play a rousing game of Clue."

"Morbid but not entirely a bad idea." Buffy pushed her chair back far enough to prop her feet up on Riley's desk. "At the very least, we might be able to rule people out when they turn up dead."

Faith uncurled her legs to shift her position in the chair. "So we play along. Sooner or later they'll tip their hand, right?"

"Best plan we've got so far. And it keeps Gunn safe. Locked up but safe."

"And Gwen?"

Buffy seemed to hesitate, "I'd rather not split them up. How is she taking all this?"

"Upset, frightened. She thinks he's innocent, of course."

"Don't we all when it's the man we love." Her thoughts were a million miles away. "Then we lock Gunn up. Make a show of it but not overdone, we need the killer to think we're in the market but not sold. Keeps him or her cautious."

"The cards'll show eventually." Faith glanced toward the door without any enthusiasm.

"They'll have to make a play for you and the baby and by then they won't care if we know. We just need to stick to the plan and whatever they have up their sleeve won't matter. We don't need to know what they're going to do next, we just need to hold them off for a few more hours."

"You really believe Cara?" Faith kept her voice low.

Buffy pulled her feet off the desk and picked up her coffee mug. "She was the only one not playing games, not running her own agenda. She was just a Slayer."

"And you're sure about this?"

"It'll work." Buffy eyed the door to the Command Center distastefully. "Ready for another round of bad cop, bad cop?"

"I am if you are."

It went about as well as expected. Faith kept silent, standing at Buffy's side to make sure everyone else knew that even without words, she was firmly behind whatever Buffy decided. The show of solidarity felt strange, like wearing clothing that didn't quite fit and kept twisting around her limbs. Spike remained similarly quiet, his eyes alert and watchful over the others. It helped, knowing that he trusted her completely despite the fact that she was unable to tell him anything. Both Angel and Gwen were vocal about Gunn's innocence while Fred and Wes supported being cautious, considering all the evidence before passing judgment either way. They were also in agreement that Gunn should be contained both for safety and security. As that seemed to be the most sensible course of action, Giles and Xander voiced their support while maintaining that no hasty decisions should be made. When it was clear that no harm was going to come to their friend, the voices began to lower and calm, the tension in the room lessening.

"If that's all we have to discuss, I'll take care of Gunn." Buffy gave the room a tight smile.

"Where is Willow?" Wesley seemed to notice her absence for the first time.

"Leia isn't doing well," she lied without hesitation. "I told Willow she could stay with her and that I would tell her what was decided." Her grim expression softened when she looked toward Gwen. "Everyone please try to relax and get some rest. Now is not the time to turn against each other, we need to stick together. Is there anything else that I need to know about?"

"I want to know what you're doing to find the real killer. Other than locking up innocent people." Gunn kept his eyes focused on the wall straight ahead, not looking at any of the group.

"A med team collected evidence from the supply closet and from what we found in your bunk. They're not equipped to act as forensics lab but they'll be able to tell us if the blood on the t-shirt is the same type as what we found in the hallway." Buffy answered briskly, her words clipped and emotionless. "The gun is a standard issue here at Genesis and could have been taken off of any rack along with the silencer. We can't match the ballistics but the magazine is short two rounds. There is also a group going over every second of surveillance video we have from the last twenty-four hours. This is going to take some time so please be patient. We have over a hundred cameras here and it may take days to go through all the footage. I hope that what we find on the videos proves that you had nothing to do with this, Gunn."

The answer seemed to satisfy him and he nodded once before standing up. "Lead the way."

"We'll take it from here, please get some rest." She motioned to the others.

"Let me go with him." Gwen's face was still pale.

Buffy hesitated for a moment, visibly torn by the decision, and finally nodded, "All we have now is each other, we need to hold onto that." There was only silence from the rest of the room as Gunn was led away by two guards to be placed in one of the containment rooms that the Initiative and then Genesis had used to hold demon specimens. Gradually the rest of the group left with grim apprehension hanging over their heads; leaving Faith and Buffy to wonder uneasily if they had made the right decision.

---

Willow didn't look up, still caught and trapped inside the magic swirling around her. She had to stay focused and keep all the pins in the air as she juggled and juggled and juggled until her mind no longer had the strength to keep everything going. Buffy's presence was a subtle change in the room behind her and without any words she gave Willow the warning that the time table had just stepped up. Things were going wrong and somehow dawn was approaching faster than it should have been. She couldn't pull herself away from the magic long enough to ask how or why and Buffy didn't stay long enough to answer, retreating before she could unintentionally disturb what was going on in the morgue.

The weary part of her ached to stop the incantations, to put her head down and sleep for days. Her focus wavered, never drifting away but faltering and stumbling for the briefest of moments. There was no room for even a moment of doubt, not even a second where she didn't believe she could pull off the greatest magic trick in the history of the world. No room for error and she had to do it in too little time. Sweat dripped down her back, her skin hot despite the cool surroundings. Then she felt Leia enter the room and nearly lost her balance.

Instead of reaching out for Willow, Leia settled onto the cold tile behind her and very gently pressed her back against Willow's. After a second of confusion, Willow realized what she was doing and relaxed against the makeshift human chair. It eased some of the pain in her back. There were no words spoken and while she could feel Leia's fear she could also feel determination. Images filtered into her mind and a familiar voice. Something about Dr. James and Sam Finn. Birkman. There was gunfire and a man's voice shouting, twisted beyond recognition by hatred. Cara's voice. Once the killing starts, stick close to Willow. They'll have a plan, they always have a plan. Trust them. The images began to tangle and blur and she pushed them away firmly. Leia was trying to tell her what happened. She was also trying to be supportive, to let Willow know she was at her back.

Willow wasn't sure what surprised her more; that Cara had trusted them to have a plan or that Leia was now putting that same trust in Willow. Drawing on the strength of two rather than one, she cleared her mind and returned to the spells at hand. They'd have plenty of time to talk after this was all over.

---

Any further thoughts of sleep were gone and since there was no place for him in the library with a very tired and cranky Giles; Spike returned to the lookout post and resumed his vigilant watch over the Hellmouth. All that had changed in the time he'd been away was the placement of the chairs and the number of occupants. This time, he was alone. He found the silence comforting, allowing him to think about what was going on around him and about the hollow feeling in his stomach that was growing with each passing minute; knowing that Faith wouldn't tell him, couldn't tell him, what was going on beneath the façade. He didn't know what bothered him more; not knowing the truth or knowing that the less she could tell them the more dangerous the truth had to be.

The chair grew increasingly uncomfortable, dawn was creeping ever closer, and he kept shifting as he turned the possibilities over in his head. Faith trusted him and, beyond all he deserved, Buffy trusted him as well. Did he trust them both enough to stay in the dark? To know that what he was being told wasn't necessarily the truth and still follow orders with only blind faith to guide him. Faith. The wedding band was smooth against his skin, spinning around his finger slowly and idly in time with the circles his thoughts were running. They were going to come after him and Faith and the baby.

"Who the fuck are they?" He seethed to no one. What could they possibly have to fear from his child? It was an unsettling thought that subdued his fury with fear. He couldn't believe that the baby was wrong or evil or in any way deserved to be hunted down and destroyed before it drew its first breath. It gave meaning to a life that was yet unborn, meaning beyond a normal human life. The child would be born with the weight of being different on its shoulders, the weight of the world. He turned that thought over a few times and liked it less and less each time. Would his child be doomed to carry that weight from the very moment it was born? How would he be able to protect the child from everything he knew was out there? His eyes focused on the night ahead of him without his brain actually engaging in what was happening.

If it was true and the child inside Faith was possibly even more important to others than it was to him, then the rest of their lives would be spent protecting that life. Until the almost inevitable day that they failed. It was chilling, more so than being in love with a Vampire Slayer and having the constant violence of her calling bleed into their lives. He had accepted that as part and parcel, even savoring the excitement and the danger. There had to be a stable equilibrium point between keeping their child safe without smothering the poor kid. He wasn't sure if it would be better or worse if they had a few years of relative normality before that life was thrust onto them. Part of him hoped everyone was wrong, that the baby would be perfectly normal and not have to bear that kind of weight.

A handful of the flickering lights disappeared into the high school; the structure of the lookout post shuddered around him with a disturbance he couldn't see and didn't quite alarm him. It was California and tremors weren't unusual. One of the chairs rattled quietly against the floor as another tremor shook the lookout. Surrounded by that many demons with nothing better to do but cause trouble; there was no such thing as too careful. A third shudder erased any hope he had that it was just an innocent earthquake.

"And that would be the other shoe," he muttered, squinting to try and see what was going on under cover of darkness. Whatever it was couldn't be good. Giles would be able to give them a heads up if a Hellmouth opening party had been scheduled.

He was halfway out the door when he heard it. Perhaps he felt it. Maybe the air in the room stirred or dropped a few degrees. Perhaps he just knew something was coming. Turning around slowly, he scrutinized the lookout windows with rapt attention. Steel bars covered them on the outside and they were nearly impenetrable even from the inside. He was suddenly very aware that there wasn't another living soul in the lookout, something that was completely against procedure for a military base on high alert. Lights flickered outside the windows. There had been torches all night but these were closer. Too close. Instinctively, he slipped to the side and pressed himself into the darkest corner behind a support beam. It was a tight fit and uncomfortable, but it kept him in the shadows and relatively hidden.

Their footsteps were quiet and the figures entering the lookout were obviously trying to be stealthy. And from the sound of it, they weren't exactly in agreement about the next course of action.

"Innocent people are going to die," the tallest figure hissed and Spike recognized Frye Birkman's voice.

"That's not your concern." A smooth, British voice responded. Wesley?

"I did my part. It's not my fault Cara busted out of here and got herself killed."

"I'm hardly worried about that, she was quite the liability and I'm glad to be rid of her," Wesley continued conversationally as he placed several small objects at the base of the windows.

"I can't just let you open up a window and let every demon in Sunnydale in here." Birkman tried again, more insistently this time.

"I explained this. I'm exiting the base, whether or not anything gets in after I leave isn't my problem."

The third figure had remained silent but Spike could tell from the silhouette that it was a woman. She was familiar as well but the stiff-backed posture was both unnatural and out of character for the soft-spoken Texan. He watched her more carefully and became more alarmed when Wesley gave an order in another language that seemed to spur her into motion. She produced a small cup and began painting a series of lines over the glass. Each movement was stiff and robot-like and she never looked at the other occupants in the room. This was unlike the Fred he had met briefly at Buffy's house. That Fred had been talkative and animated even at three o'clock in the morning.

"You think they're not going to get in?"

"I just can't bring myself to care." Wesley chuckled at an inside joke. "I'm planning on destroying this whole town, what does it matter who goes first?"

Spike frowned as he remembered Cara's words. They'll bury this whole town. Demon, human, every blade of grass. Wesley was a part of the infamous They? That didn't seem to make any sense. Then again, Wesley should be dead. The hollow in his stomach sunk a little deeper, perhaps Wesley was still dead and this was merely the shell left behind and filled with another creature. Wolfram and Hart had really outdone themselves. They had planted traitors behind the very faces that should have been trustworthy.

"It was just supposed to be Spike."

"You have such a small mind, Mr. Birkman," Wesley chided.

Spike saw Birkman reach for the knife at his hip and silently cheered him on. The man may be an idiot but he wasn't evil enough to sacrifice hundreds of innocent people just to make sure Spike turned up dead. He heard the foreign command, uttered in such a casual tone that it hardly sounded like an order for execution. In an instant, the silent automaton that used to be Fred became a snarling hellcat. Spike wouldn't have ever believed she could be a match for Birkman but she was on in him in a flash and he was dead before he hit the ground. She stood up and the stiffness returned; blood spattered gruesomely over her face and chest, waiting for the next command. Spike blinked several times, staring at Birkman's still body with growing unease. How the hell had she done that?

Candles flared and the lines drawn on the glass filled the room with an orange glow. Spike narrowed his eyes against the light, still trying to see what was happening even though it hurt to watch. The lookout trembled once again before the windows exploded outward with the force of a bomb. Metal shrieked as the protective bars snapped and peeled away. It had become a gaping wound of shattered glass, leaving the base open and exposed to the nightmares outside.

Wesley climbed out first and Fred followed him methodically. Standing just beyond the window, he turned back and smiled with more evil and cruelty than Spike thought could be possible. Not needing any more encouragement, Spike barreled out of the room and slammed the door behind him. His fist hit the alarm button, bathing the corridors once again in flashing lights and sirens. Glass shattered as he broke through another alarm a few feet down the hallway and a thick metal door slid down to cut off the lookout. It would slow them down. Now he had to get to Buffy and pray that she was ready with whatever insane plan she had concocted. He nearly knocked over two guards as they investigated the alarms.

"Lookout compromised!" he shouted, waving back toward the lookout.

"Did you seal the corridor?" One of the men yelled back.

"Yes! Where's Buffy?"

"Morgue!" The guard was already racing away from Spike, gun ready for whatever waited at the other end of the hallway.

He narrowly avoided colliding with Buffy as she stepped out of the morgue, skidding to a stop and trying to catch his breath. "Buffy! Long story…window gone. Wesley, Fred…not very nice people." Faith stepped through the doors behind her and looked dazedly around at the flashing lights. When neither of them answered, he kept talking between breaths. "The lookout by the high school is wide open. Just a matter of time before they get in." He looked to Buffy again, surprised that she didn't seem upset by this. For that matter, neither did Faith. "Are you two okay?"

"They're fine," Willow answered quickly, propping the morgue doors open. Her face was white and there were dark circles under her eyes.

Behind her, Spike watched with equal parts disbelief and horror as the bodies of Dawn and Cordelia moved around, checking their fingers and limbs as if to test them. He turned on Willow fiercely. "Have you lost your fucking mind? We're about to be slaughtered and you're playing around with resurrecting the dead? Didn't you learn your fucking lesson the first time?"

She winced under his tirade but shook her head in response. "Buffy asked me to. This way they can follow us out of the base. She didn't want…didn't want to leave the bodies here. You know what the demons will do to them." She shuddered wearily and leaned against her girlfriend for support.

"How could you?" Spike clenched his fists, fingernails digging into his palms. "After you saw what it did to Buffy? How could you?"

"Spike?" Dawn started toward him, brushing at her blood stained clothes. "You could be a little happier to see me, you know."

He cringed and pulled away, "Sorry. It's just…after…after what Buffy went through."

"I'm not Buffy." She stuck out her tongue and crossed her arms over her chest. "It won't be the same."

"What's this about demons?" Cordelia rubbed her neck and stretched her shoulders. "Time to kick some ass?"

"This should be fun." Dawn was staring at her hands with unusual fascination. "Look, Cordy, I'm not dead! And neither are you."

"Yeah, well…we've still got that whole been-shot look going on. Which was so last season." Cordelia sighed melodramatically.

"You're having way too much fun with this."

"Umm…hello?" Spike wondered when the world had gone insane. "What the hell is going on here? Demons…in the base…everyone's going to die. What are we doing about it?"

"We're going to use this to get out of here," Dawn answered cheerfully, holding up the portal token.

"Right. But the portal's out there."

"Well, out there isn't so much different from in here, now is it?" Dawn took Buffy's arm and started walking.

"What did you say about Wesley and Fred?" Willow seemed to shake off some of her tiredness.

"I don't think they are Wesley and Fred. But it doesn't matter now, they're gone. Left the base." Spike backed away from the women, convinced that they'd all lost their minds. "Are you sure this was a good idea, Willow?"

"Look, everything's fine. Just trust me." She rubbed her temple wearily. "People will go to the command center looking for Buffy so we should head there. Right, Buffy?" Buffy stared blankly at Willow and turned around.

Spike just stared as the women started down the hallway, finally convincing his feet to move. He tried to catch Faith's attention but she didn't seem to see anything. Was this part of the plan?

"You okay?" Cordelia asked him quietly.

"Fine. Just a little creeped out." He kept his distance.

"Never thought you were the skittish type." She grinned at him.

"It's just…creepy."

"Trust us, Spike. We know what we're doing."

He eyed her suspiciously, looking back and forth between the Faith who wouldn't look at him and the Cordelia who would. On a hunch, he reached out and touched her arm. Electricity raced through his fingers, setting his hair on end and stopping him dead in his tracks.

Cordelia's shoulders shrugged but it was Faith's smile. "Can't fool you, can I?"

---

Holland was whistling something cheerful he couldn't remember the name of. Oh yes, Whistle While You Work, that was the name. He wasn't working as much as he was delegating but it still felt good to whistle while other people worked. A large chunk of the Sunnydale High School's basement had been excavated and he was waiting patiently for them to open up a clear shot to the Hellmouth. Shamans were waiting nearby and before the sun had a chance to peek over the horizon, Sunnydale would be no more than a memory.

"Sir? We have activity at the base," a member of wet works team informed him briskly.

"Ah, lovely." He smiled at his captive Fred. "Shall we go watch your friends die?" Uttering the command to follow him, he didn't give her another look until they were situated on the roof of the school with the perfect view. Sure enough, the vampires had found the hole he'd left and were scrambling to get into the base. Gunfire and the smell of napalm filled the night air. Every tree above the base was either smoldering or burning, pumping ash and smoke into the sky. Flashing lights and thundering engines swooped back and forth, steel birds spitting bullets and fire. There were enough demons to keep the troops occupied for weeks. He'd seen to that. Had made sure every vampire and every demon on earth would be here in Sunnydale. But that plan had been when he'd only had Cara to deal with and now there had to be a new plan.

He could no longer allow anything to survive in Sunnydale. The town had to be ripped up by its roots before the Senior Partners were forced to cede defeat to their ageless nemeses and slip away to lick their wounds. Just Spike would have been a blow but to have Spike and the baby together happen under their noses without any prior notification was unthinkable. Of course, they would possibly lose Angel as well but the Powers seemed hardly to care about that. They were the ones who had conveniently forgotten to let Angel in on the clause in Cordelia's promotion to half-demon. It was a machiavellian move even he could admire, turning Angel's friends into tools he would be forced to use and occasionally destroy in the process.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He watched Fred's impassive face for a moment, reaching out to stroke her hair. How long would it take to break her? To corrupt her completely enough that he would be able to remove the parasite and still retain control of her. He could be patient. Impulsively he commanded the parasite to allow its host to speak. "You might learn to appreciate me, Fred."

She coughed and drew several ragged breaths when she realized she had control of her tongue. "Monster."

"Sweet Fred."

"Get your hands off of me." Her voice shook with rage.

"I don't think you understand that you're mine now."

"I'll never be yours. You may turn me into a puppet but I will never be yours."

"Such fire." He turned his eyes back to the battle spreading out beneath them. It was spilling into the town, down the streets and alleys like a flood made of violence and blood. The epicenter was clearly visible; a mobile inferno of weaponry and fire that sent out ripples in every direction and whipped the already excited demon population into frenzied savagery. Trapped, surrounded by traitors, and finally invaded; the Slayers had chosen to take their chances above ground. Apparently one trip through the armies of Hell hadn't been enough. Even if they did survive long enough to be met with reinforcements, Sunnydale was doomed to suffer the magical equivalent of a nuclear bomb. It could possibly take out a great deal more of California as well but such were the risks of upper management.

"What is going to happen?"

"I'm going to open the Hellmouth and destroy Sunnydale," he answered plainly.

"And to me?" Her voice was lower, afraid. "What's going to happen to me?"

"I've become quite fond of you. I would hardly wish for something to happen to you." He stroked her neck gently, savoring the softness of her skin. "I'm sure you'll get used to this arrangement."

"And you plan to rape me every day for the rest of my life?"

"Possibly more than once." He laughed at the defiance. "Such an ugly word, Miss Burkle. Must you use it?"

"A spade is a spade."

"And yet you were so ready to spread your legs when you believed I was Wesley. Women are fickle creatures."

"Wesley isn't a monster."

"Lilah would tell you otherwise." He was growing tired of the arguing and ordered the parasite to regain control of her voice. There was a struggle and he had to admire her pluck, fighting against the enemy beneath her skin. "If you don't want to watch them die, I'm sure I could think of something else to occupy your attention." The struggling stopped immediately.

A rousing chorus of shrieks and victory cries signaled that the fight was over even as it had begun. He shook his head with more than a touch of disappointment. It had been entertaining while it lasted but there was no doubt that the unintelligible cacophony of demon voices meant they had broken through and the blood seeping into the earth was Slayer blood. The final move was his.

He ordered Fred to follow and returned to the basement. "You should forget all about the Slayers and their raggedly little band of do-gooders. How far along are we?"

"Sir?" A younger man dressed in a lab coat stepped forward and motioned to a metallic device with the pen in his hand. "We can't seem to stabilize the energy fields."

"Then I suggest you try harder." Holland smiled when he wanted to grimace.

"With all due respect, sir, these equations are Fred's. She might be useful."

"Very well." He relinquished the parasite's hold on her voice but not her body and moved a few feet away to get a better vantage point of the Hellmouth. It was close enough to hear what they were saying.

"You bastard!" Fred's voice echoed angrily through the basement.

"Fred, please."

"No! Explain to me what exactly it is that you're doing here, Knox. Please explain it to me."

"Well…see…we're opening the Hellmouth."

"With my equations."

"You are the best. It's the gamma term here that I just can't seem to make balance." Knox motioned elaborately with his pen, poking at a crumpled piece of paper in his hand and accidentally jabbing Fred in the arm in his enthusiasm. "Oops, sorry 'bout that. I got ink on your shirt." He wiped at her sleeve ineffectually.

"Go to hell. Traitor." Fred bored holes into him with her furious glare.

"Fred, please. For the sake of science. Don't you want to see your equations work?"

"I won't help you."

Knox sighed dejectedly and turned back toward Holland. "Sorry, sir. It'll take me a bit longer to figure it out myself."

Holland resisted the urge to shake his head, "You have twenty minutes. I suggest you get working." When twenty minutes had come and gone, he was about ready to lose his cool. Any moment now and the Senior Partners would start wondering what had gone wrong. He had no desire be on the wrong end of their temper again. Why hadn't he just stolen a few nuclear warheads and wiped Sunnydale off the map the old fashioned way?

"Sir! I think I have it!" Knox waved his hand excitedly.

"And when can we get on with it?"

"I can set the device for what ever we need to get everyone out." He checked his watch. "It'll create an energy pulse at the same frequency as the Hellmouth but with enough intensity that it will destabilize the energy basis and cause localized structural collapse of the dimensional walls. It's brilliant, Fred. I mean, I know you meant it to be used to restabilize the walls but it's absolutely brilliant."

"Enough." Holland stopped the infernal babbling, anxious to get away from the lab technician who obviously doted on Fred. "Set the device for ten minutes and evacuate the premises. We'll return to Los Angeles."

"Yes sir." Knox gave him a lopsided smile before turning away to fiddle with the device.

"Very well." Holland gave the order to evacuate, waiting to make sure nothing else went wrong before he and Fred left the basement. He turned to give the order and was stunned to see that she wasn't standing where she had left him. Frowning, he glanced around the cavernous room and couldn't see a trace of the willowy physicist.

"Looking for me?"

His mind registered the level of rage in her voice and he made a note that it might be dangerous. That proved to be the understatement of his second lifetime when the business end of a sledgehammer impacted with his spine. Bone crunched and half of his body sung with pain while the other half seemed to disappear. He crumpled to the ground and sucked dirt into his lungs as he gasped.

"I'm not going to kill you, Holland. I just want to make sure you have to lie there…unable to move or scream." More bone crunched as she swung again and he tasted blood at the back of his mouth.

"Fred." He choked, clawing at the ground as he tried to drag his limp body away from her.

"I didn't say you could talk!" she snarled and raised the sledgehammer again.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Knox scrambled to his feet and stopped her, gently taking the weapon away. "Easy there. We need to get you to a hospital. The stuff I gave you might kill the parasite inside you and that would kill you too. Just relax."

"What about the Hellmouth?" Her voice trembled and through the haze of pain and blood, Holland could see that her entire body was shaking like a leaf.

"Oh, it's going to open and everything's going to die. Don't worry; I've already let the red, white, and blue know. Well, I told them it was a nuke but they got the idea. You've got to get out of here now, I'll make sure he's still here for the fireworks." She nodded numbly and turned away, disappearing around the corner.

Holland coughed up more blood, eyeing Knox warily even as the young man hummed merrily and fiddled with the device for nearly a minute. Another lopsided smile and he was convinced the scientist was more than a few fries short of a Happy Meal.

"You know, I'm glad you did this. She never really trusted me before, part of the Big Evil and all." He continued humming for a few more seconds before looking over his shoulder with a terrifying grin. "And you got rid of Wesley for me. I should be thanking you."

"What…are you talking about?" Holland couldn't remember any memo about mad scientists working at Wolfram and Hart, although he supposed that might be redundant.

"I'm going to follow your plan, open the Hellmouth, and then I'm going usher in a brand new world. With Fred as my queen. Well, she won't exactly be Fred anymore but she's not really Fred now. She's Fred with a parasite. And now, she'll be something even better." He held up his pen with an expression of awe. "It took me years to get it into injectable form. I kept the sarcophagus in storage, just waiting for the right vessel. I knew it had to be Fred but Wesley never let her be alone with me, can you believe that guy?"

The idea dawned on Holland that he hadn't quite anticipated all of the variables and the result was that he could now feel the coldness of imminent death seeping into his useless limbs. There were no words now; he couldn't get his tongue and lips to form the right shapes to produce speech. But if something became of this mad man's ramblings, if he truly had plans for Fred, then possibly it wouldn't be a complete loss.

"Well. I should go. Fred's waiting." Knox patted the device once more before leaving it blinking on the ground. "She's going to take some getting used to; you know…Illyria. I like the sound of it."

Shock took precedence over his own dying as Holland realized that the bumbling idiot had deliberately loosed an Old One into the world. The Senior Partners would keep him roasting in hell for this oversight. Why hadn't Lilah mentioned that Illyria's sarcophagus was being held at a Wolfram and Hart office? It was an unprecedented oversight on her part not to be aware of such a liability. He barely noticed Knox's retreat, still reeling from the whirlwind change of fortune, and half believed he was hallucinating when familiar Gucci shoes passed through his line of sight and the consequences of his second death began to become reality. The laugh was garbled by blood and paralysis, coming out of Holland's throat as a series of hisses and moans.

"At some point the student has to surpass the master." Lindsey knelt down beside Holland. "It's been great working for you, Holland. Now you'll be working for me." He checked his watch lazily and stood up. "I was going to ask if you wanted me to end it quickly but I think Fred deserves a little payback. You're going to that special Hell, Holland." A few steps and the polished shoes were gone; Holland was truly alone for the first time in two lifetimes.

There it was. All of the Senior Partner's loose ends tied up neatly to be incinerated when the small red light stopped blinking. He would be less than dust when it was all over, swept aside as just one more part of Sunnydale and returned to the hell of half-living. These last few moments would be paradise compared to any of the punishments the Senior Partners could think to inflict. Blink. Blink. The light turned solid and Holland held his breath.

Nothing happened.

He gagged on more blood and tried to look around for the next surprise. This time he didn't bother to even attempt comprehension. A young girl was watching him quizzically. At least, he thought it was a girl. She seemed to be human with wide blue eyes and long dark hair, but she glowed with a pale green light. Now he was sure he was hallucinating. Perhaps this was the part where the ghosts of those he'd murdered came back to point their fingers and howl about eternal torment. She had picked up the mechanical device and was turning it over in her hands curiously. Just as he was beginning to wonder what she was waiting for, the air seemed to shimmer and bend around her and she smiled cheerfully.

That smile was the last thing Holland saw before the world exploded.