Pale yellow light bled through the eastern sky, pushing back the night. Buffy watched, weary in spirit if not in body. A few hours sleep had been enough to recharge her batteries but no amount of sleep could erase her burden. Though she could not see the auditorium or its occupants, she felt the weight of their presence at her back. This rescue mission had seemed much simpler when it was just her and Willow looking for Angel.

She heard a click and turned to see Willow emerging from the auditorium. The witch saw her and hesitated at the top of the steps before descending. As her friend drew nearer, Buffy noticed that Willow, too, had found time to wash her face and put on a clean shirt. With her red hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked fresh and perky. And she was carrying her bag of witchy supplies.

"Hey," said Buffy.

"Hey."

An uncomfortable silence expanded. Buffy adjusted the sword across her back. "So you ready to go mosey?"

Willow's mouth quirked. "Sure."

Buffy breathed easier. "Great. Soon as Faith gets here we can get going."

Breaking eye contact, Willow fiddled with the strap of her satchel. "Well, actually--"

"Will, I know you were upset last night, and you had good reason to be. But we need to work together now."

"Teamwork, sure. I'm down with that. But..." She glanced over her shoulder and her voice dropped. "It's not like I was being all boy-who-cried-wolf, you know." Flicking her fingers, Willow indicated the auditorium. "This sanctuary spell's not going to last more than a couple of days. If we're lucky. After that we're gonna be in poop...we're gonna be in trouble."

"Okaaay." Buffy scratched her nose. She wasn't certain where Willow was going but she had the vague feeling she wasn't going to like the destination.

Willow took a deep breath. "I have to go to Wolfram & Hart. You have to find Angel. We should split up."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "I don't get it. What's the big whoop with going to Wolfram & Hart?"

"No whoop. No whoop at all."

"Well, what do you think you're going to find there? If you believe the miracle child, Angel's long gone."

Willow's expression was unusually blank. "I won't know till I get there."

Buffy planted her hands on her hips. "You've got shifty face."

"What? No I haven't."

"Yeah you do. I thought you weren't gonna hold out on me any more."

Willow bit her lip. At that moment the auditorium doors slammed open and Faith appeared hauling two bicycles. Connor was right on her heels, similarly laden.

Buffy stared at him. "Tell me he's just here to wave goodbye."

"He is," Willow said, all innocence. Buffy glared at her and Willow flashed a sheepish grin. "Er, to you."

"Will, you know I don't trust him."

"Not a problem. He's coming with me."

"Willow!"

Faith bounded up, dropping the already battered bicycles with a metallic clash. "We all set?"

"Absolutely," Willow said. "Right, Buffy?"

Faced with Willow's pleading eyes, Buffy sighed. "Sure." She knew Willow was right. And this was no time to throw a tantrum, no matter how much she wanted to. Willow beamed at her and turned to Connor.

"Let's boogie," she said.

He nodded and manoevred one of the bicycles next to her. As she was about to climb on, Buffy blurted, "Hey, Will."

Willow looked back.

"Don't forget not all demons are allergic to sunlight, okay?"

"I know. Me bookworm, you slayer, remember?" With a breezy wave, Willow hopped on the bike and took off down the driveway.

Connor nodded at Buffy. "I'll watch her back," he said before zipping after Willow.

"You'd better," Buffy muttered. She watched them disappear down the street. Her spine prickled, despite the growing warmth of the sun.

Faith slung an arm round Buffy's shoulders. "Hey, don't look so constipated. He's a good kid, not to mention one hell of a demon asskicker."

Buffy gave her a sidelong look. "So you believe his story, that his parents were vampires, that Angel's his father?"

Faith shrugged. "Hadn't given it much thought. Too busy trying to hold the fort together." She grabbed a bicycle and thrust it at Buffy. "Let's get outta here before someone needs me to help pop a zit." Faith jumped on the bike and scooted forward several feet. "Last one to the end of the street's a buttmonkey!"

"Hey!" Buffy threw her leg over the saddle and pumped the pedals as hard as she could, but by the time she got to the end of the driveway she could see Faith already nearing the intersection. The dark-haired slayer skidded to a halt at the corner next to a stop sign. Easing up, Buffy glided up beside her.

"You cheated," Buffy said without heat.

Faith grinned. "I may be wearing a white hat these days, but I ain't changed that much."

"You don't say." Buffy surveyed the intersection, alert for dangers of the demon variety. She noted the abandoned vehicles dotting the curbsides. Most had smashed windows, many were missing doors. "So where're we going?"

"Yeah, about that..." Faith dragged a hand through her hair. "Look, there's really no point looking for Angel."

"What?"

Faith gazed at her, brown eyes liquid. "Buffy, the witches' locator spell failed. My way of thinking, there's only two explanations: either Angel's outside the shield or..."

Buffy felt her stomach shrink to the size of a peanut. "No. He's not dead. I'd know it."

"Okay, then he's outside the shield and it's a waste of time looking for him."

Disconcerted by Faith's matter-of-fact assessment, Buffy studied her. Faith had always been driven by her emotions, much like Buffy herself. This new side of Faith was not entirely comforting, especially since it seemed as if she wasn't going to fall in with Buffy's plans.

"He's not outside. He would've contacted me."

"Then..."

"It's not that simple. Maybe the spell failed because...because they're bad witches. Did ya ever think of that?"

Faith's gaze didn't waver. "If they were, we'd all be dead by now."

Heat flooded Buffy's cheeks. She hated that Faith was making her face a possibility she'd been doing her darndest to avoid. "Then what's with the charade? What're we doing here?"

Faith looked away. "We need to talk."

"You brought me out here for a heart to heart?" A hysterical giggle threatened to break loose. Buffy swallowed it and turned left at the intersection, cycling towards a block of downtown skyscrapers. Faith followed her but made no attempt to talk.

Buffy's gaze skittered over the empty street and wrecked cars. She was used to seeing deserted streets in the depths of night, but in the sun's soothing presence the absence of people felt all wrong. Her chest tightened. It became an effort to keep breathing, but she had no intention of stopping to rest. The breeze intensified, sparking a cool tingle on her cheeks, and she realised she was crying.

After a minute Faith moved up beside her. Buffy turned her head aside and scrubbed her face, furious with herself for believing even for a moment that Angel was dead.

"Buffy, I care about Angel too. But there's nothing we can do to help him right now."

"You don't know that." Her voice came out a little hoarse.

"Okay, I don't," Faith said without missing a beat. "What I do know is that we've got three hundred civilians to evacuate before that sanctuary spell bites the dust."

"We?" Despite herself, Buffy glanced at Faith.

"Yeah. Slayer, chosen one, sacred duty, any of this ringing a bell."

Faith was lecturing her about duty. Buffy shook her head in disbelief. During any other apocalypse she might've been amused, but right now she was too distracted.

"You look like you've got things covered," Buffy said. She pedalled harder and began to pull away; if Faith wasn't going to help her, she'd search for Angel by herself.

Without warning Faith grabbed Buffy's handlebar, bringing her to a premature stop and nearly sending her toppling to the ground. "Will you stop being pissed at me for one second and just listen."

Startled, Buffy fought for balance, bracing her feet on the tarmac. She stared at Faith. The dark-haired slayer's muscles were rigid, her knuckles white as she clutched the handlebar. Goosebumps prickled Buffy's arms.

"I know you're worried about Angel," Faith said, "but the big guy's pretty good at taking care of himself. Those people back there, not so much. And in case you hadn't noticed, we're short a couple hundred slayers."

Buffy squirmed. "We didn't know what the situation was. That's why Willow and I came first to scope it out." Her response sounded weak, even to her. It didn't help that she'd been second-guessing her decision not to bring the slayers ever since they'd arrived at the auditorium. But Faith didn't seem interested in placing blame.

"Well, now you know." Faith's eyes bored into her. "So what're you gonna do about it?"

Pacing back and forth in the windowless office, Xander couldn't believe how calm Giles looked. He wondered if somehow his Giles had been switched en route to Washington with a robot. Maybe he oughta poke him to be sure. Xander paused to ponder what would happen if it turned out Giles wasn't a robot; he decided to keep pacing.

A bare desk and several chairs took up most of the space in the small room. Ratty carpet and fluorescent lighting added to the cheap look. Xander felt disappointed. He'd been expecting something more...spiffy for the Pentagon. They could've been at his accountant's office -- if it hadn't been swallowed up when Sunnydale turned into a giant crater.

"Xander, would you please sit down?"

"A minute ago you told me to stop drumming my fingers on the table. Make up your mind, will ya?"

"I have. Sit down. Don't move."

Xander did so, mumbling, "Giles says make like a statue."

A man entered the room wearing a slick suit and wire-rimmed glasses, his face pale and pinched. His hair -- what there was of it -- was pasted down on his shiny head.

Giles stood. "McSwain."

"Giles, old man. It's good to see you." He advanced to shake Giles's hand, then retreated to hover near the door.

"Good to see you too," Giles said with a pointed look at his watch.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," McSwain said offhandedly. "You know how it is, presidents to brief, apocalypses to avert."

Giles sank back in his seat. "The president is aware of the situation?"

"It was rather difficult to hide an apocalyptic-sized event from him...not that we didn't try." Cold black eyes rested on Xander. "And who might you be?"

"Xander Harris. I'm with him." Xander pointed his chin towards Giles.

"Really?" McSwain twisted his mouth into a smirk. "Giles, you have changed."

"Cut it out," Giles said, irritation flitting across his face. "If the president knows what's happening, what is he doing about it?"

But McSwain wasn't listening; he was staring at Xander with a thoughtful expression. "Alexander Harris -- known associate of Buffy Summers, who just happens to fit the description of one of two women who infiltrated L.A.'s no-go zone yesterday."

Giles frowned. "I wasn't aware Los Angeles was off-limits."

"Well, you are rather out of the loop, old man." McSwain's smug face made Xander want to bitch slap him.

"So how's about putting us in the loop?" Xander said.

"I'm afraid that would take a security clearance neither of you possess. But rest assured we are handling the situation." He glanced at his watch. "Now if you'll excuse me..." It was a clear dismissal, but Xander was startled when Giles stood as if to leave. It wasn't like him to give up so easily.

McSwain glided to the door, hand outstretched towards the handle. Like a freight train, Giles rushed him, grabbing his throat and shoving him against the wall.

"Sorry, old man," said Giles, "but I'm going to have to insist you brief us, security clearance or no."

Leaning back in his chair, Xander watched McSwain's face turn pink. "I'd do what he says. He's the good cop. Imagine what I'd do to you." He caught Giles's exasperated glance. "But in the meantime I'll just sit here and be quiet."

McSwain gasped for breath, face darkening by the second. He sputtered, but couldn't quite get the words out.

"Er, Giles?" Xander said. "Maybe you oughta let a little air in, just so he doesn't drop dead before he squeaks."

Giles considered his former colleague for a moment, and eased his grip. "So what's your brilliant plan to avert the apocalypse?"

Recovering his breath, McSwain shot him a malignant look. "Do you really imagine you'll get away with this? I'll have you--" He broke off with a strangled yelp as Giles increased the pressure on his windpipe.

Xander shook his head. "Boy, are you dumb. How'd you even get into the Watchers Council?"

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear," Giles said, eyes boring into McSwain. "There are people who know where we are. And when I say 'people', I mean highly trained slayers who will not hesitate to track you down and beat you within an inch of your life should they lose contact with us." He smiled pleasantly. "Assuming you're still alive, of course."

McSwain's eyes boggled.

Giles's smile widened. "Let's try this again, shall we?"