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

For one beautiful moment Buffy allowed herself to believe that she was right and Faith was wrong, that she was the injured party and Faith was being the meanie. She positively basked in that feeling. Right up until her sense of duty asserted itself. Again. She sighed, and tried to be gracious about it.

"You suck."

Faith's mouth twitched. "Not what I was hoping for, but I'll take it."

"Yay."

"Careful. You don't wanna OD on the sarcasm."

"I've got a pretty high tolerance." Buffy took a last look at the downtown skyline looming ahead. Silhouetted against the rising sun, the silent grey buildings seemed to look down on her in disappointment. She turned away from them. "So now what?"

Faith cocked her head. "Scurry back to H.Q. and brainstorm escape plans?"

"What about Willow?"

"She told you why she's poking around Wolfram & Hart?"

Buffy hesitated. "No."

"Then she probably doesn't want us looking over her shoulder. Don't worry. Town stays pretty dead until noon." Faith flipped her bike so it pointed back towards the school. "Whaddya say?"

In answer, Buffy wheeled her bike around and began pumping the pedals. The sun warmed her back as they travelled down the wide boulevard. This had turned out to be a shorter trip than she'd expected. Buffy glanced at her sister slayer, noticing for the first time that Faith carried no weapons. I don't know why I bothered to bring my brain, Buffy thought, cause clearly I'm not using it.

"You could've told me all this back at the school," Buffy said, annoyed at both herself and the abrupt change in plan.

"Thought you might overreact. Civilians are jumpy enough as it is. The last thing they need to see is the two of us going at it." She slanted a glance at Buffy. "Fighting, that is."

"Well, you were wrong."

"Yeah? You telling me that you didn't wanna smack me around, even for a second."

Buffy didn't answer, and they spent the rest of the journey in silence.

When they neared the school, Buffy saw half a dozen people milling around outside the auditorium. As the slayers glided up the driveway, a wiry Asian guy detached himself from the group and trotted over to them. Buffy recognised him from the rescue posse the night before -- Rocky, she remembered.

"Faith, we got a problem," he called.

"What's up?" she said, braking beside him. Buffy pulled up next to Faith.

"There's a rumour going round that the witches' spell is about to go, like today. And with you and Connor nowhere to be found...well, it's starting to get ugly in there."

Clambering off her bike, Faith gave him an incredulous look. "I was gone like five minutes."

Rocky shrugged. "What can I tell you? People are sheep."

"If only," Faith mumbled.

He leaned in close. "Listen...the rumour ain't true, is it?"

Faith hesitated, glanced at Buffy.

"Nope," Buffy said at once. "It's a vicious lie."

Rocky looked at her, and back at Faith, who nodded.

"Okay, if you say so," he said. "The others might need a bit more convincing, though. Or a few whacks on the head." He loped away to rejoin the others.

Face settling in weary lines, Faith watched him go. "Hear that?" she said to Buffy. "I'm not a slayer, I'm a frickin nursemaid."

Buffy stifled a snicker. "I think it's sweet. You're like their Yoda."

"Mary Poppins, more like."

Faith wheeled her bike over to the side of the concrete steps and propped it up. Buffy followed suit and they trudged up the steps, Faith nodding at the guards as they passed. Inside the foyer, Faith paused to snatch up bottles of water and a bag of chocolate chip cookies.

"Let's go to my office," she said.

But as soon as they entered the auditorium proper, Faith was inundated with panicked questions. Loud voices assaulted Buffy's ears and bodies reeking of fear and stale sweat pressed in on them from all sides. She resisted the urge to shove them away. Although if that guy in the dirty white turtleneck didn't stop elbowing her, he was going to learn just how painful a slayer wedgie could be.

Hand on hip, Faith waited for the mob to quieten. When they showed no signs of doing so she rolled her eyes and started talking, but made no real attempt to be heard. Close beside her, Buffy thought it sounded as if Faith was spouting gibberish. A minute later the shouted questions died away and, aside from several crying children, the crowd fell silent.

"Okay, if everyone's finished re-enacting the Titanic," Faith said, mouth twisted with contempt. Several people coughed, but no one responded. "First of all, the protection spell ain't going anywhere for at least a couple of days."

"But--" called a male voice.

"I said," Faith said, her voice diamond hard, "it's not going anywhere." Her gaze roamed the crowd, daring them to challenge her. No one did. "Second, we've got a plan in the works and you'll all be outta here before that happens."

Buffy's mouth fell open, and she only just prevented herself from contradicting Faith.

"What's the plan?" asked a young woman with pink hair.

"You'll hear about it when you need to," Faith said. "Now, all of you, get out of my face."

The sound of squeaking and shuffling feet echoed through the auditorium as everyone tried to evade Faith's hard gaze. A path opened up towards the stage. Faith gathered Buffy with a look and strode off. Buffy followed her around the side of the stage to the rear of the auditorium.

Faith's "office" turned out to be a utility closet behind the stage. One-handed, she lit a lantern hanging from a hook with a cigarette lighter, then closed the door. Buffy looked round; empty wrappers and bottles littered the floor and in one shadowy corner sat a pile of brooms and mops, their handles missing. Faith tossed Buffy a bottle and waved her to the single stool while she herself slouched against the wall. They took a moment to gulp down some water.

"Boy, Rocky wasn't kidding." Faith wiped her brow.

"You think that was a good idea? Telling them we had a plan?"

"Got them off my back, didn't it?" Faith said, an edge to her voice.

Buffy kept her tone neutral. "But we don't have a plan."

"I know that." Faith thumped her head against the wall. "But I had to tell them something, didn't I?"

It was on the tip of Buffy's tongue to suggest that making promises you weren't sure you could keep was a bad idea, but Faith was massaging her temple, a pained expression on her face.

"I guess," Buffy said instead. She sipped some water. "If we're going to save the day, we should get started on that plan, huh?"

Faith shook herself. "Right."

"Maybe we should keep it simple," Buffy said. "Leave at dawn and make a run for the city limits."

"Yeah, that has success written all over it," Faith said, tearing open the bag of cookies and munching on one.

"You got a better idea?" She felt miffed, especially after Faith had made such a big deal about needing her help.

"No..." Faith finished chewing and swallowed. "It's just that...well, some people already tried that. And they never came back. I don't think this bunch are going to be too eager to follow in their footsteps."

"Just because they never came back doesn't mean--

"The barrier went up before they even left. Somehow I don't think those folks are sipping pina coladas in Maui, you know what I'm saying."

A shiver touched Buffy's spine. "How many people?"

"You really wanna know?" Faith said, raising an eyebrow.

Buffy thought for a moment, and slowly shook her head. "I guess not."

"Listen, don't mention this to Connor, 'kay? Kid blames himself enough already. He was sorta in charge before I got here."

Despite herself, Buffy felt a rush of sympathy for Connor. She knew how heavily the death of innocent victims could weigh on one's conscience. It couldn't always be avoided, but somehow that knowledge never really helped. A thought occurred to her.

"Wait, if this happened before you showed up, how'd you get through the barrier?"

Faith grinned. "Talked a few soldier boys into giving up their dirty little secret."

"Talked, huh? Didn't know you could do that with your fist." Buffy's stomach rumbled and she reached over to help herself to a cookie.

"I'm a woman of many talents, B."

"Hah!"

A half eaten cookie hit Buffy in the face.

Wolfram & Hart's swanky office had been reduced to five none too stable storeys. Surrounded by debris, Willow stood in the front plaza, inspecting the smashed windows and doors from a safe distance. Connor stood by her shoulder, one hand on his axe as he kept an eye out.

She sensed no magical disturbances radiating from the building, which was disconcerting; she'd been so certain this was the source. But the senior partners were crafty enough to have shielded the office -- she had to be sure.

Willow clutched her satchel, pondering which spell to use, glad she'd had the foresight to bring supplies. It meant she could use minor spells which relied more on herbs and rituals and less on her personal power. Decision made, she reached into her satchel and withdrew several plastic bags. Using the contents, she knelt and constructed a small pyre of hickory and mandrake on the ground, then dribbled a thick circle of sea salt around Connor.

"Is all this really necessary?" he said as she finished the circle.

"After everything you've survived, you really wanna die because a rock fell on your noggin?"

Connor shrugged. "Wouldn't kill me."

Rising, she gave him a sharp look. "Yeah, well, my head's not so bouncy."

He lapsed back into silence. She knew he didn't like standing out in the open, but this spell couldn't be rushed. Not if she wanted to get it right. And with the dark magic soaking the city, she needed to be extra careful.

Willow checked to make sure everything was in place and removed a lighter from her bag. She took a deep breath and gradually exhaled it, focusing her thoughts on the spell she was about to perform. When she was ready she lit the pyre and stepped into the salt circle with Connor. Smoke rose from the herbs, releasing a spicy woody fragrance.

She began chanting in Sanskrit, infusing the spell with a smidgen of her power. It worked as a catalyst, unleashing the inherent energy of the ritual and the herbs. As she ended the chant she felt the spell begin to take form. It would've taken less than a heartbeat for her to execute the spell herself, but it would've cost her energy she might need later.

The hair on the back of her neck tickled as the energy accumulated and she felt Connor fidgeting beside her. At last the spell reached its crescendo. The air rippled as the time freeze spell exploded outwards from the pyre. Its effect was limited, but its scope was enough to encompass the ruined office. How long it would last was another matter.

Willow crossed her fingers, and stepped out of the circle. The air was still, as if the world was holding its breath. She smiled and strode to the front steps. Connor lingered a few seconds before jumping from the circle and catching up with her.

The glass doors had shattered, leaving easy access to the dusty lobby. Willow ducked through the empty doorway, carefully avoiding the sharp slivers clinging to the frame. With Connor right on her heels, she crossed the marble floor, shards of glass crunching beneath her sneakers. The lobby had an unnatural stillness which reassured Willow; it meant the spell was working. Just as well because large chunks of the ceiling and walls were missing.

She continued past the reception desk, following the curve of the wall, and stopped when they reached the elevators. Connor bumped into her. Blowing out a breath, she glared at him.

"Okay, this me and my shadow act is getting old."

"Huh?"

"You're making me nervous."

"Oh." Connor shrugged. "Sorry, but if anything happens to you Buffy'll rearrange my internal organs. I kinda like them where they are."

"She's not gonna..." Willow automatically began to defend her friend, until her brain caught up. "Oh yeah, you're right."

Connor grimaced. "Thanks."

"Welcome," she said absently. Willow sidled over to survey the warped elevator doors, her eyes sliding up to the floor numbers above. She hadn't spent enough time in the office to be familiar with its layout. Connor, on the other hand... "If you were the senior partners, where would you hide your most valuable, most evilest secrets?"

"Why do you want to know?" His tone was odd, uncertain.

Willow glanced over her shoulder. Her heart sank as she recognised the hint of suspicion in his eyes, and she wondered just how much he knew about her. He'd explained the mind wipe and recounted how they'd met, but the memory itself remained elusive. Realising she had yet to answer, Willow scrambled for a plausible reason.

"I just wanna be sure there aren't any potential weapons around, lying in wait for any innocent passers-by...who might wander into a wrecked building."

Connor shook his head. "You really think the senior partners would've left their toys behind? They're too stingy for that."

"We need to be sure."

"I'm sure. Sure I don't want to mess with anything that could transform me into a...a circus freak, or a rat -- hairy backs are a turn off."

"Oh yeah? Then why are you giving me lip?"

Connor's eyes widened as her not so subtle threat registered.

Willow slapped her hand over her mouth but it was too late to take it back. For one second she'd let her frustration get the better of her.

"Er, how about you forget I said that last part?" she said.

He stared at her, brow furrowed. "Maybe it's just me, but I get the feeling you're not telling me everything."

She attempted a smile. "Who, me?"

Connor rolled his eyes. "Geez, you're a worse liar than I am. Come on, Willow. You were in such a hurry to get here you almost broke the sound barrier. And now these questions about magic weapons. You're looking for something."

"So? So what if I am? That doesn't mean I'm evil. I'm not evil!"

"I never said you were." A bemused look flitted across his face. "But it would be nice if you trusted me enough to tell me the truth. I think I've earned it."

"Oh sure, play the guilt card." But he had saved her life. And told her the sordid details of his life before the mind wipe. She figured he deserved a similar gesture from her. And she had to admit, it would be a relief to tell someone. "Well, okay." Willow gathered her thoughts. "Wolfram & Hart...the senior partners, they did something."

"Yeah, they let loose a bunch of demons--"

"No, something worse."

He stilled. "Worse?"

"I don't know how exactly, but they're channelling dark magic into this dimension. It's changing our world"
"They can do that?"

"They are doing it." She glanced at her watch. "Listen, the balance of magic in our dimension is tipped towards good magic, white magic. It's why humans are the dominant species. It's why so many not-evil demons settle here to raise their little demon sproglets."

"And now the senior partners are trying to turn Earth into a hell dimension?"

"Yep. Except at the moment it's just L.A. I hate to say it, but those nitwits who created the barrier around the city might've accidentally done the right thing."

"So what happens if--"

"Okay, it's my turn to play Spanish Inquisitor. This time spell's not gonna last forever, you know."

Connor blinked. "Sure. What do you wanna know?"

"Hello! Magical artifacts, location of?"

"Okay, okay," he said, patting the air in a placatory gesture. "No need to get cranky."

Willow almost smiled. "Believe me, you haven't seen me get cranky. Tetchy, maybe, but not cranky."

"There's a difference?" Ignoring her pout, he scanned the lobby and pointed out a door hanging off its hinges in one corner. "I guess we should check out the basement"
"Now we're getting somewhere," Willow said, picking her way to the corner. Without touching the door, which appeared ready to fall off entirely, she peered down into the gloom. "Wow, it's dark." An unpleasant odour, reminiscent of cat pee, wafted up her nose. She tried not to think of all the creatures that could be lurking in the basement; spiders, rats...

"Why don't you magic up a light or something?"

"Sure, or I could just..." Willow extracted a flashlight from her bag and flipped the switch, "use this." She handed it to him and retrieved a second one for herself.

He clattered down the stairs ahead of her, his muttered "Smartass" echoing up the stairwell.

Willow shook her head. "Teenagers." She descended to the first sub-level where she found Connor waiting for her.

A quick exploration revealed a long corridor with multiple doors on both sides. When Connor broke down several of them they found rooms crammed with filing cabinets. Fascinating, she was sure, but not exactly what she was looking for. They retraced their steps and continued down to the next level.

The second sub-level held another corridor, but this one wasn't so straightforward; it branched off into multiple passages. They took the first branch and forged through its twists and turns. The first door they encountered was again hanging off its hinges, making Willow wonder who else had been exploring the bowels of Wolfram & Hart. Her stomach churned.

Through the door they continued down a long flight of steps which opened out into an empty chamber. Connor glanced at her. With a shrug she swished her flashlight beam around the exit on the far side. He preceded her down the middle of the room, and unexpectedly halted in mid-stride.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I thought I saw..." He aimed his flashlight towards the side wall.

"Gah!" Willow fumbled her own flashlight, nearly dropping it.

Illuminated in the beam, like an exhibit from Madame Tussaud's wax museum, was a zombie. A quick sweep of their flashlights revealed seven more standing in alcoves along the walls. She froze, heart thudding in her chest. A glance at Connor showed he was similarly rooted to the spot.

"It's okay," she whispered, reassuring herself more than Connor. "It's okay. They're frozen." The zombies weren't trying to eat their faces so she assumed the spell was still in effect. They wore business suits, which struck Willow as incongruous. Former lawyers? she wondered with a shudder.

Connor shook himself and swung his axe off his shoulder. "How much longer is this spell going to last?"

"I'm not sure. Magic's not an exact science, you know." She wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. "I don't understand why they're still here. How come they didn't run off to join in the hijinks and mayhem?"

"Maybe they didn't know how. Zombies aren't exactly known for being the life of the party." His flashlight zigzagged wildly as he tried to keep an eye on all the creatures at once. "We should get out of here. There's no telling how many of them are on this level, just waiting for anyone suicidal enough to come down here."

"We can't leave, not yet."

"Isn't there some other way--"

"No."

Connor took one look at her grim face and nodded. "Then we'd better make this fast."

Willow forced her legs to start moving, ignoring the inner voice insisting that she leave the building right this minute. Connor bypassed her, axe in hand, moving with an athletic grace she wished she could emulate. As they left the zombies behind, she breathed a little easier.

They descended another long flight of steps and emerged into a cavernous white room dominated by a huge cylinder atop a circular platform. The roof of the cylinder held jagged shards of opaque glass, suggesting that at one time it had been enclosed. The chamber was so high, the ceiling remained hidden from their flashlights.

Willow spotted a scaffolding with metal stairs leading up to some kind of control panel and went over to investigate. As she climbed to the top, her flashlight beam caught runic symbols decorating the upper edge of the cylinder. She shivered.

"Is this it?" asked Connor.

"I'm not sure."

He glanced behind him. "No rush. Really, take your time. I'll just take a nap while you figure it out."

Willow threw him a withering look, but concentrated on the panel. She pressed buttons at random but nothing happened. The console was dead. Not that it mattered. She was certain this...machine could not have opened a magical conduit between dimensions. For that a powerful ritual would have been needed.

She searched the chamber with her flashlight, but there was nothing else of interest. All this way and they'd found nothing. And she knew they were running out of time. The basement had proved to be more extensive than she'd expected. Physically, they couldn't possibly explore every nook and cranny before the spell expired. Magically, though...

Willow gripped the metal railing and closed her eyes. She hadn't wanted to do this, hadn't wanted to leave herself open to the darkness, but she no longer had a choice.

Taking a breath to centre herself, she reached out with her magical senses, looking for anything with a whiff of malevolence about it. She ploughed through the above ground levels, which held nothing more than minor magical artifacts, and moved on to the basement where she discovered another three sub-levels below. Her magical fingers probed their depths.

But she found nothing that matched the ritualistic imprint she was looking for, although the two lowest levels were awash with demonic signatures. Nor did she sense anything like the kind of power the conduit itself would be giving off, which meant it wasn't on the grounds either. She opened her eyes.

Drat.

On the plus side, she realised, it meant they could skedaddle. The thought energised her and she flew down the metal steps.

"It's not here. Let's go."

Connor's jaw dropped. "But you said--"

"Nag later. Escape with our lives now." She tapped her watch.

For a second Connor looked torn, but common sense won out. He sprinted up the stairs leading from the chamber, Willow right on his tail. By the time they reached the zombie room, however, she was panting and had to slow down. Connor, oblivious to her lack of superhuman strength, pressed on without her and got to the far side first.

Willow felt the base of her spine itch. The zombies were beyond the reach of her flashlight, but she knew they were there. She trotted down the middle of the chamber, her breathing ragged.

She was only a few metres from Connor when she heard a light patter, like rain on a tin roof. She froze and saw dust float down from the ceiling, glinting in the beam from her flashlight. A growl resonated from her right and spread round the room like wildfire.

Willow snapped her flashlight sharp right and saw a zombie coming right at her, bits of flesh hanging off its face. Instinctively she whacked her satchel at its head; it didn't do any damage but it threw the zombie off balance for a few critical seconds.

"Willow, come on!"

She dashed towards Connor but pulled up short when another zombie lurched into her path. Before she could do more than gasp, there was a sickening thud and its head went flying. Connor knocked the teetering corpse out of the way, grabbed her hand, and tugged her up the stairs. They emerged on the second sub-level. Connor took a moment to jam the broken door into its frame as best he could, but Willow doubted it would hold for long. Not giving her time to catch her breath, he pulled her down the corridor.

As they turned a corner Willow heard something bang against the door. Her flashlight beam bobbed up and down as they ran, the only illumination in the corridor. She wondered when Connor had dropped his flashlight. They rounded another corner, and the banging grew more distant. It was all she could do to keep up with Connor, so when he stopped, her first impulse was relief.

Connor swivelled his head, looking up and down the gloomy corridor. "Er, I think we took a wrong turn."

Willow looked back, and realised he was right; they'd gone left instead of right after escaping the zombie room. "Are you kidding me? You're a guy! You're supposed to be good at this stuff."

"Hey, navigating mazes wasn't part of my course curriculum, okay!"

They scowled at each other for two seconds, until the distant banging reminded them of their predicament.

"So what do we do?" asked Willow.

"Do you know another way out of here?"

"No." Her heartbeat skittered. "We have to go back."

It wasn't a question but Connor nodded anyway. "The sooner the better, before those zombies--" He broke off at the faint sound of wood splintering, and heaved a sigh. "Man, I hate this place."

They exchanged grim looks, and raced back the way they'd come. But the zombies were already climbing through the demolished door when Willow and Connor turned the corner.

"Two minutes," Willow said, glaring at the zombies. "You couldn't give us two minutes!" As if in answer, their eyes glowed a putrid green.

Connor hefted his axe, and advanced to meet the approaching zombies. "Stay behind me." She sidled to the wall, angling her flashlight around Connor so he had a clear view.

The corridor was narrow enough that they couldn't attack en masse, which gave Connor an advantage. Still, Willow's mouth went dry as he met the first pair. He ducked a punch from one and swung his axe up at the other, slicing through its chest and spinning round in time to chop off the first zombie's head.

Growling, the second pair leapt at Connor. He warded off one by swinging his axe up but the other grabbed his shirt and slammed him against the wall.

Willow gathered her power. As a zombie bypassed the struggling Connor and rushed her, she released a burst of fire. The zombie went up in flames, shrieking. It reeled backwards, flailing its arms. Shadows writhed on the walls as the fire danced.

Connor shoved his opponent into the torched zombie. The fire spread from one to the other, forming a firewall between the humans and the remaining zombies. Willow couldn't help wincing in sympathy even as the screeching pierced her ears. Connor staggered over to her, panting.

"Nice," he said.

She would've answered but she was too busy gagging at the smell of charred flesh. Her eyes watered from the smoke, leaving her blind and sick to her stomach. She blinked furiously.

After a minute the shrieks died away and the corpses collapsed to the ground. Through the remnants of smoke and fire, Willow glimpsed the other zombies. She wiggled her fingers at them. They took the hint and reared backwards, tottering back down the stairs and leaving a more or less clear path.

Willow wiped her eyes and looked at Connor. "Go now?"

"Hell, yeah."

He led the way past the corpses, parts of which were still smouldering, and checked the doorway to make sure the zombies weren't lurking about. Willow breathed a sigh of relief when he gave her the all-clear. They hurried on and arrived at the stairwell without any further excitement, but on entering they were engulfed by a cacophony of howls.

Startled, Willow pointed her flashlight down the stairwell. With a feeling of disbelief, she glimpsed furry creatures romping up the concrete steps. The scent of cat pee was stronger than ever. She barely had time to feel a surge of panic before Connor grabbed her hand and hauled her up towards ground level.

They made it to the sunlit lobby and broke out into a full run. But Willow was labouring; her legs felt like marshmallow and she was gasping for breath. They were only halfway across the marble floor when a loud growl raised goosebumps on her arms. Over her shoulder she saw a furry orange demon stalking them on all fours, tail bobbing in the air. It was as big as a lion and could have been mistaken for some kind of exotic animal if not for its disconcerting grin and the intelligence in its eyes. Huge fangs extended from its mouth.

"Keep going." Connor gave her a push and spun around to face the demon.

Willow obeyed but stopped short of the front doors. She couldn't leave him behind. Pivoting, she saw that the demon was only a few feet from Connor. Its muscles bunched and it leapt. Willow screamed.

Connor jammed his axe head into its maw, but went down under its considerable weight. The beast slashed a paw, and Connor yelled in pain. Blood spread over his left shoulder. He landed a couple of punches to its head, but the demon barely reacted.

Willow readied her power as she moved towards them; the closer she was, the less chance of hitting Connor. The demon's eyes snapped up, its amber gaze fixed on her. Beyond it, she spotted half a dozen more of the orange beasts round the curve of the wall. Her heart stopped.

Without conscious thought, she sent a pulse of magical energy directly at the floor beneath the demons. It disintegrated in a whirlpool of golden light. Roaring in panic and scrabbling their paws, the demons plunged into the basement.

Snarling, the demon on top of Connor leapt at her. She stumbled back, but it didn't even get close. The axe in its mouth, anchored by Connor, held it back. Grunting with the effort, Connor slammed the axe and the demon's head to the side, down into the marble. Its head crunched, but the beast continued to thrash, claws flailing.

Connor wrenched his axe free and rolled to his knees. Swiftly, before it could recover, he chopped off the demon's head. It shuddered and was still.

Grimacing, Willow looked away from the icky stuff seeping out of its neck. Connor rose, leaning on his axe for support. Blood oozed down his arm.

"God, you're really bleeding," Willow said, moving closer to examine his shoulder. He brushed her aside.

"Later. Let's get out of here first."

"Uh uh. We're not going anywhere until we stop the bleeding."

An ominous groan swept through the lobby. The walls began to tremble as dust rained down on them. Willow's gaze fell on the enormous hole in the floor; maybe that hadn't been the best use of her magic. A chunk of concrete landed with a thunk beside her. She looked at Connor.

"Okay, maybe we should leave."

"Ya think?"

They ran for the door. As the tremors worsened more debris pelted down. Willow threw her arms over her head. Sunlight beckoned, promising safety. A few more unsteady steps and she was through the door. Her arms stung as they were scraped by the glass still clinging to the frame. She scampered down the front steps and spun around.

Connor was nowhere in sight.

The lobby was an opaque swirl of dust. She took a faltering step forward, her chest so constricted she could hardly breathe. All she could think was that Angel would likely feast on her liver if she'd got his son killed. A thunderous roar rolled through the building, and the ground shook. Dust billowed out the lobby, and with it came Connor, diving through the doorway.

Willow sighed; she'd get to keep her liver.

Connor rolled to his feet with a cocky grin. Blood trickled down the side of his face.

"Told you a thump on the head wouldn't kill me," he said.

Gritting her teeth, she hunkered down to rummage through her bag. She pulled out a small first-aid kit. Connor knelt down and peeked into her bag. "You got a kitchen sink in there too?"

"I like to be prepared." She stared at him. "You're awfully chipper for someone who nearly got squished."

He shrugged. "But I didn't."

Willow rolled her eyes and began mopping up the blood on his arm. As she did so, she experienced a startling moment of clarity in which everything seemed to come into sharp focus.

"Oh my God. I'm such a nincompoop."

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself." Connor squinted at her. "What's a nincompoop?"

She stared at the gauze in her hand. Connor's blood. Angel's blood. Why hadn't she seen it before?

"Willow? You okay?"

"Better than okay." Willow grinned. "I know how to find Angel."