Saving the world becomes far more complicated as Willow gets sick and a quadruple demon bears down on the town. Meanwhile, Anya's going through some changes, while Spike struggles to find the right words to tell Buffy.
Sterling and Anya were lying in bed next to one another. "You were more animated than normal this time," he told her.
"Maybe it was the three-day wait. All that pent-up energy."
"You sounded like you were in pain. Did I do something wrong?"
"You were great. I just feel cold." She rolled on top of Sterling. "Hold me." He held. She rested her head on his chest. He stroked her hair. "That's better," Anya told him. "You always make it better."
"What you said earlier, bout us needing more time together, you were right. How bout you spend the weekend at my place?"
"A weekend at the beach. Sounds romantic. Do they give Nobel Prizes for boyfriends? Cause if they do, you deserve one."
"Wouldn't that require going to Sweden? It's cold up there, and there's no good surfing in Scandinavia. And wouldn't I have to get dressed up? Sounds a lot less fun than what I'm doing right now."
"Sterling, honey, do you have ambitions, goals, dreams?"
"Being with you."
"That's sweet, baby. But darling, what about everything else? Your job, your future?"
"Don't think about the future. It'll come when it's ready. Why?"
"You're so laid back. Maybe it's a California thing. Or maybe you're some Zen Master. Or maybe not, since they're bald and skinny and totally unstudly. I just don't get you. What makes you tick?"
"That would be my heart."
"Quit joking, Sterl. You know what I mean."
"Fine. I'll be serious. I try to have fun without hurting people. That's about it."
"That's all? I mean, it's good, makes sense. But that's it?"
"No. Otherwise my life would be empty. I need passion, purpose, just like everybody else. That's where you come in. Every guy needs to find a women to worship. If she loves him, what else does he need in life to be happy?"
Manu talked with Amur. "You seem upset. I sense jealousy and envy, emotions dirty and impure and unworthy of residing within your resplendent brain."
"You sense wrong, Master."
"I am never wrong about my Brethren. And do not lie to me about my own thoughts. I suspect you know better."
"I only lie since you force me to state what you already know. Such concealment is the same as a lie, is it not, Master?"
"I underestimate you, and you make me pay."
"Then why do you still underestimate me?"
"Amur, you are one step from completion. As is Rama. But he has been chosen by me. You take this to mean I hold you in lower esteem. But that is not the case. When Rama ascends, he will not be my equal. He will be my slave. He will be a mere extension of my being. You, on the other hand, will be Master in my absence. You will lead the others. And remember, the Golden Time is only hours away. When it begins, we will all be equal." Manu walked off, leaving Amur behind.
Manu went down to a windowless basement room. The floor was marble. The walls were granite. The ceiling was covered in gold leaf. Four torches burned from the four corners of the room, which was about 20 feet square. Through a secret passageway in a wall, Rama entered. He wore a black robe with a white hood. Manu wore a black robe with a purple border. Through a secret passageway in another wall, a man entered wearing a red robe. He carried with him a pregnant woman in a white robe with a purple border. She was bound and gagged, and crying. She was strung by her feet from the ceiling. Manu walked up to her, pulled her neck up to his mouth, bit her and drank. While he did this, he removed her gag and put his left hand over her mouth so she could neither scream nor breathe. When he finished drinking, he bit his right hand. Then he removed his left hand from the poor woman's mouth and placed his bleeding right hand over her mouth. When she gasped for breath, she unintentionally drank Manu's blood. Then Manu removed the rope which tied her hands and used it to strangle her to death.
At that point in the ceremony, the man in the red cloak picked up one of the torches and thrust it down his throat. He stood motionless as he was immolated. Manu reached into the ashes and pulled out the torch's charred wooden handle. He used it to stake the pregnant woman through the heart. One of Manu's powers was the ability to instantly sire his human victims. She turned to dust, and her human baby fell to the ground. Rama grabbed it in midair. Rama held the baby boy as Manu bit into Rama's neck and drank. Rama grew weak and struggled to remain standing. Manu poured a chalice of his own blood into Rama's open mouth. As his strength returned, Rama bit into and drank the newborn dry. The hood of his robe turned black. For the first time in over 1,000 years, there were two Ninth Degree Masters.
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 2002
Willow didn't feel so good when she woke up. She had a headache and was a little dizzy. She walked to the bathroom. Buffy saw her. "Willow what's wrong? You don't look quite right."
"Makes sense, cause I feel quite wrong."
"Your neck! The spot where you were hit. It's got a big purple bump."
Willow reached up and touched the bump. It hurt tremendously. "Buffy, the hallway's spinning. I know it's not, but it look like it is."
"You need to lie down." Buffy led Willow back to bed. "You were poisoned or something. I'll get everyone on it. We'll figure out what it is and get you fixed up good as new in no time." Buffy felt Willow's forehead. She was burning up and soon started sweating.
"Usually you play the patient, and I play the doctor," Willow joked. "I miss playing the doctor. It's so much less excruciating and painful." Buffy ran downstairs to find what books she had which could be of use. Willow always did the research, but that wasn't an option this time. A few minutes later Patrick called.
"Buffy I have very bad news."
"So do I. Willow's sick. Whatever shot her poisoned her."
"Oh dear. That's awful."
"What was your bad news?"
"I've deciphered most of the glyphs, and I'm pretty sure the world is going to end tonight."
"Great. Just what I need. More worries."
"I get your point. Priorities being what they are, we actually have to put world destruction on the back burner for now. I'll be right over."
15 minutes later Patrick arrived. He had been up all night working, and it showed. His face was stubbly, his curly hair more frizzy than usual. He seemed jittery from the combination of caffeine and fretting over imminent destruction. He went straight upstairs to Willow's bedroom. She was in pain and clearly disoriented.
"Last night, I tried to remove the pellet and there was nothing there," Buffy told Patrick.
"Probably water soluble so it can dissolve and enter the bloodstream. Have you handled these sorts of things before?"
"Yes. Usually I'm the one infected. But I got the procedure down cold. We figure out what the poison is, and we kill the demon whose blood or fluid is the antidote, then give it to Willow, and she's good as new. That's what she always did for me."
"Yes, that would be the primitive Witch Doctor approach. No offense. I know in your line of work the old ways work best. But I have a feeling this is my line of work." He pulled out a needle and a tourniquet. "I'm going to take a small blood sample, do some tests involving very expensive state-of-the-art equipment back at my lab, and try to find out what the culprit is, and if there's a treatment. I do it my way, you do it yours, we see who gets the job done first." He tied the tourniquet to Willow's right arm, got a vein to come up, and took out 1 cc of blood. Willow screamed. She was already in pain, and poking her with needles only made it worse. Buffy held her down. Patrick finished, then injected the blood into a test tube, which he capped with a rubber stopper. "I'll tell you as soon as I know anything." He walked downstairs. Buffy followed.
"Okay, I appreciate the help. But when you find out what it is, then what? You just gonna cook up a cure?"
"Hopefully."
"How can you be so confident?"
"I have resources, information, knowledge. I'm sure they used something I or one of my colleagues has already heard of. And we have treatments for 95 of the known demonic poisons and pathogens. I noticed Willow's running a high fever, so I'm guessing she's infected with something living. That should narrow down the search. And if it's living, I can kill it. Without killing Willow, of course."
"God, you are one cocky, know-it-all son-of-a-bitch. Better live up to your boasts this time around."
"Funny how much we have in common. We both think we're the best at what we do. We're both are sure we'll always come out on top, no matter what the odds. We're like photo negatives of each other. Rather frightening, don't you think?"
"Major mutual wiggins."
"Got that right."
"So what's the 411 on today being the End of Days?"
"It appears that last night a second Mausolus ascended to the Ninth Degree. That's why they guarded the place. The second Master is needed to perform the ritual which will end the world."
"Define end. Suck us into hell? Or into a demon dimension? Or burn the planet to a crisp?"
"They're going to try to make it disappear. Vanishing's their specialty after all. They believe that two Masters can achieve this by harnessing the demonic energy emanating from the Hellmouth. They do this tonight in the Temple. That is what it's built for."
"So the game plan's simple. We bust into the temple. Destroy it. Destroy them. End of the endgame."
"Easier said than done. These guys are wily. They have plenty of tricks up their sleeves. And I'm still trying to figure out what those tricks will be. If past behavior is any guide, they'll find ways to keep you busy and away from the Temple. That's probably the reason for the poison. Which is why I have to find a cure quickly. Time is our enemy."
"Are you sure it's today? In the past, there's always been an earthquake as the harbinger of impending doom. I haven't felt any earthquake."
"This morning. 5:30 am. 2.1 on the Richter Scale. Like they say, not with a bang, but a whimper." Patrick left. Buffy tried to figure out what to do in the meantime. First, she called Xander. His previous construction project ended Thursday, so he had the day off. Once he heard Willow was sick, he immediately came over."
At the Magic Box, Anya and Spike, unaware of what was afoot, continued on with their lives. "Spike, last night, when I was in bed with Sterling, something happened."
"I'm sure it did, and I don't fancy hearing about it."
"It wasn't that. Actually it was during that. Something happened inside of me."
"Like I said, I can do without the details."
"Oh, you thought I meant . . . He was inside of me, but that had nothing to do with it. It couldn't have. This was very different. It was painful. Like something being ripped out of me."
Spike thought for a moment. "No. It can't be. It's too early."
"Too early for what?"
"Losing your demon powers. Remember when Grendel came to town cause you'd gone without for 6 months. Well, when I was researching that, I came across something else. Said if you went without for 12 months, you were no longer a demon. No monsters, no punishment. You'd just be stripped."
Anya started hitting Spike in the shoulder. "You knew that, and you didn't tell me! Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was afraid how you'd react. Thought maybe you'd do vengeance just to keep your power. I didn't want to tamper."
"You knew something about me. Something important. And you didn't tell! That's low. What do you think I am, a child who can't handle the truth?"
"Anya, it's moot. And that can't be what happened. Like I said, it's too early."
"I didn't realize it then, but now I can feel it. Or rather, I can feel its absence. How did I lose it? Who took it from me. DeHofren? It had to be. But why?"
"Maybe he knew your heart wasn't in it. You have been quite happy as of late."
"Because of Sterling. Oh, that's just peachy. Love cost me my powers. And during my . . . well, you know, that moment. Oh god. I'm a demon who was changed by a moment of perfect happiness. I'm a cliche."
"And an overworked cliche at that," Spike joked. "Are all the Higher Demons existentialists who read too much Kierkegaard and became obsessed with the Fear and Trembling' metaphor, the orgasm as the leap of faith which saves or loses the soul? I'm just glad that wasn't my bloody Trigger.' But that couldn't have been what flipped the switch."
"Right, cause I've had plenty of those with Sterl. Dozens, scores, hundreds in fact."
"Okay, I get the idea. Enough."
"Spike, you have no reason to feel inadequate compared to Sterling. Actually, you do. But that's obvious and anyway it's beside the point. For whatever reason, DeHofren decided last night was the time to pull me off the roster. Maybe he realized Sterl was different, that he could never hurt me, never betray me. Still, it was impersonal. He didn't even tell me to my face I was out. Old coot's not as hands-on as he once was."
"Maybe he knew he made a mistake when he rehired you, but was too pigheaded to admit it. Hence the remote defrocking. How you taking it, mortality and all?"
"I feel so weak. And fragile. It's been a while since I teleported, but it was nice to know I could do it if I wanted to."
"There is one big benefit. Now you no longer have a secret identity you have to keep hidden from your precious Sterling."
Xander was with Buffy, fretting about Willow. She had a high fever, which had made her delirious. What made it worse was their sense of helplessness, their inability to do anything to make Willow better. The symptoms were too vague to allow them to identify the culprit. Usually the gang would do a chemical analysis of the poison, but Willow always performed that. But then, two hours after leaving, Patrick called.
"I found your bug. It's a unicellular protozoa, a microdemon. Usually it kills within two days, but there is a treatment. I'm putting together the ingredients now, and should have it ready in a few hours. She'll be fine."
"What can we do to help her," Buffy asked.
"How's her fever? Did you take her temperature?"
"Twenty minutes ago. It was 103."
"That's good. It's high, but not life-threatening. And that bump on her neck, it's just a bruise, a hematoma cause by the disintegration of the pellet under her skin. You can put some ice on that, take down the swelling."
"So by this afternoon she should be good as new?"
"Not that fast. It takes a few hours for the medication to do its work. This isn't poison. You don't administer the antidote and the person instantly recovers. It's an illness. You have to give her time."
"But according to you we don't have time!"
"So Willow probably won't be able to help tonight. But she'll be all better tomorrow."
"Any idea how we get to tomorrow?"
"You fight demons. You kill them. We find some way to break into and destroy the Temple. Kind of stuff you're good at." Buffy hung up.
"Was that Patrick," Xander asked. "What did he say?"
"He knows what's hurting her. Says he'll have a cure in a few hours. But she'll probably be too weak to help us tonight."
"Perfect. What now? How do we stop them?"
"Kill em. Destroy the Temple."
"So you and me were barking up the right tree last night."
"Now all we need to do is figure out how."
"And that's where Willow comes in. If she could. But she can't."
"The shot that hit her. It was meant for me. It glanced off my crossbow into Willow. I'm supposed to be the sick one."
"So they were trying to get you out of the picture for their big night."
"The books said these guys are sneaky, fight indirectly, avoid confrontation. Think about it. Those dogs. Why weren't they out there on the lawn to begin with? Why was there only the single guard? To draw me into a trap. It's my fault."
"Buffy you were right to check out the place."
"Not that. It's my fault I didn't kill him with my first shot. A little better aim, and Willow's fine."
"And what if you didn't bullseye the second shot? You'd be sick. I'd be sick. Who knows. Maybe we'd be doberman puppy chow by now."
It didn't take Patrick long to assemble the ingredients. When properly mixed, they destroyed the protozoa's cilia, the dozens of little row-like arms it used to move. Once immobilized, the parasite could no longer find food. Furthermore, it could no longer properly dispose of its waste products. These were toxic to both the person and the parasite. By keeping in constant movement, the parasite kept one step ahead of its own toxins. Unable to move, the unicellular demon starved and poisoned itself to death at the same time. Once their numbers began to dissipate, the human body was capable of disposing of the toxins, destroying the paralyzed protozoans, and healing itself. However, this took time.
"How's the research coming along," a man asked as he walked into the lab. Patrick was a bit nervous, considering the nature of this extracurricular research.
"Professor Hartog. Henry. Nice to see you."
"I read your paper on intercellular matrix histoproteins and systemic lupus erythematosus. You made some clever insights. Top-notch work."
Patrick smiled. "Thanks Henry."
"You know why they call it lupus?"
"Lupus, the wolf. Causes extreme light sensitivity. Those who have it tend to stay indoors during the day."
"Hence in olden times some people thought they had turned into wolves." Hartog laughed. "We see a victim of an autoimmune disease. Others see werewolves. The crazy stuff people once believed in." Hartog left the room. Patrick resumed his work.
Patrick was worried about getting the mixture wrong. He had never done this sort of thing before. He called several of his Counter-Council contacts and found those with more expertise than himself. Once he had the proportions right, he worried about the dosage. Once he had the dosage right, he worried about how much to dilute the mixture by. Once all his worries were quelled, he felt ready to go to Willow. He wanted to be safe, to be sure. But he also knew time was of the essence.
Around 1:30, he arrived. "How is she," he asked.
"A little worse than before," Buffy replied. "Totally out of it."
"Any discoloration on the skin? I mean, other than where she was hit?"
"I didn't check. Why?"
"If there's none, the disease hasn't progressed very far. Then recovery should be easy. Well, not easy. But brief." Patrick pulled out his needle. It was quite large. He was going to inject a lot of fluid into Willow. The size of the syringe scared Xander and Buffy a bit. "Can you two hold her down," he asked. Buffy held down Willow's shoulders. Xander held her right arm. She had been very fidgety, and didn't like being grabbed.
"It's okay Willow," Buffy told her, hoping she was still a little bit lucid. "We're going to make you all better."
"He's giving you something to help you fight this thing," Xander said. Patrick was no doctor. He was not used to injecting people. So he was a little nervous. He didn't want to do anything stupid, like miss the vein or snap the needle when it was in her arm. He made sure the air was purged. Then he found a vein, stuck the needle in, and slowly pushed down on the plunger. Willow grew even more agitated. Course, Buffy was very strong, and good at restraining people. It was over in a few seconds.
"That should do the trick," Patrick said. "Now just do the normal stuff - let her rest, lots of fluids, someone watch over her, the sort of things a real medical doctor would say. The worst should be over." Patrick left the room. Buffy followed. Xander stayed behind with Willow to see if there were any changes.
"Turns out there is a demon you can kill and use its juice to cure what Willow has," Patrick explained. "And I think one or two of them live near the Hellmouth. But they're nocturnal, like most demons. So by then it would have been a little late, considering the other business."
"Thank you," Buffy said to Patrick. "Thanks for everything."
"I don't deserve your thanks. That's embarrassing. Not for this. You've saved the world. More than once, apparently. So I should be thanking you."
"What happened to your massive ego?"
"Threats of imminent destruction humble me." They were downstairs. Patrick sat in a chair in the dining room, and briefly rested his head on the table. Then he pulled it back up. "By the way, last night, when you wanted to storm the place, you were right on the money. That's when they were making their second Master. To do that, they needed 8 other members to be present, one representing each of the first 8 Degrees of the Order. If I wasn't so chicken, maybe you would have kept at it, got in, killed one of them, ended all of this. Cause that's all it would have taken. Sorry I was such a naysayer."
"I don't think we have time for self-pity," Buffy told him, and perhaps also herself. Xander came down.
"She's quiet. Moving less than before. Is that a good sign?"
"Should be. Means the parasites are less active, and the medicine's working."
"Glad to hear," Xander replied. "And what's with this vampire cult pulling a David Copperfield with the entire planet?"
"It's not as crazy as it sounds. Like I said the other night, the only mystery is existence. How something came from nothing. Scientists, theologians, philosophers still can't explain that. But we know it happened. And if in an instant nothing turned into something, then it's logical to assume the reverse is possible."
"Fair enough," Xander replied. "But my problem with your reasoning is, it's reasonable. It makes sense. Abracadabra, no more world, that makes no sense. Sucked into a demon dimension, that makes sense."
"I think it has something to do with anti-matter. The Hellmouth is a sort of wormhole, a shortcut to other dimensions, and to their energies. The Mausoleans are going to reach into that wormhole and pull out the right mix of anti-matter to negate our reality. Least that's my theory. Doesn't matter how they do it. What matters is stopping them. Which is why I have to go and finish trying to decipher those glyphs, see if I can uncover any clues to help you do your job." Patrick went to the door.
"Meet us at the Magic Box before dark if you find anything," Buffy told him.
"Sure thing. Cause meeting you after dark it would be too late. By the way, I don't envy you people. I'm bone tired, but I'm afraid if I fall asleep I won't ever wake up. In the past, my fear was doze off, I won't finish the paper, or study for the exam. Sometimes it felt like if I didn't ace the thing it would be like the end of the world. Now it's not just a metaphor. I'm sure there's some lesson here about how our petty problems don't amount to a hill of beans, but that would be a metaphor, and they've gone out the window." Then Patrick left.
"He thinks to much," Xander told Buffy. "I realize now that thinking CAN be a very bad thing."
"If you think about it, not thinking can be smart," Buffy replied. "Okay, I think Gugan's overthinking is becoming contagious."
"Good point. Leave the philosophizing to the pointy-heads. Gotta figure out how to take down that Temple. We need more brains to bounce stuff off."
"Magic Box then," Buffy proposed.
"What about Willow?"
"Dawn will be home soon. She watches Willow. We go to work. Let's just see how she's doing." They went upstairs. Willow was sleeping. Buffy felt her forehead. "Her fever's still there. But she's not burning up like before."
"She looks peaceful," Xander added. "Not at all like someone fighting off a vicious demon microbe."
"She's used to fighting," Buffy replied. "We all are." They went downstairs and let Willow sleep. They sat around, trying to strategize, while they waited for Dawn. After about 20 minutes, Dawn came home.
"What's with the serious faces," Dawn asked. "Something wrong? What's wrong?"
"Usual stuff," Xander began. "Demons want to end the world. Tonight. We gotta stop em."
"And unusual stuff," Buffy began. "Last night, when we were scouting their hangout, Willow got hit and infected with some demon poison. Patrick found the antidote, and she's getting better. But we have to go to the Magic Box, figure out how to save the day. Can you watch over Willow?"
"Of course. But then what? I mean, what about tonight?"
"Willow should be much better by then. I'll need you Dawn. Out there, helping me. Killing vampires. Usual stuff."
Dawn smiled. "That's the first time you ever said you needed me. As a fighter. I've dreamed of this day. Except in the dream the world's not about to end."
"So nice to see you've found a silver lining in my abject desperation," Buffy joked. Then she left with Xander. Dawn was still beaming. She went up to check on Willow.
Xander and Buffy arrived at the Magic Box around 3:30. "Where's Spike," Buffy asked Anya, to the consternation of Xander.
"He left about 30 minutes ago. Said he had some music thing to do."
"Too bad. What would be ever do without Spike," Xander commented sarcastically.
Spike was at his apartment, practicing what he was going to say to Buffy. "Buffy, without you I'm nothing.' No. Too desperate. You're the reason I'm alive.' No. Too sappy. You complete me.' Oh, that's just bloody awful. I'm making myself sick. Just be yourself. Speak from the heart. She loves you. Bloody hell. I've become a sodding greeting card. And I'm only getting worse. I need to stop practicing. I need to . . . I need a drink. Perfect. Get all sussed. Then I'll really make a fool of myself. It's this mirror. This bloody mirror. Like another me. Copying me, looking at me, driving ME crazy! Arghh!" Spike kicked the mirror and shattered it. He looked at the broken glass on the floor. "Real smart, Spike. Now I have to clean it up. Smash the mirror. Free yourself. What do I think this is, Tommy?"
Around 4:30, Patrick entered Anya's store. "Just when I thought it COULDN'T get any worse," he announced as he walked over to the circular table where Xander, Buffy and Anya were sitting and researching.
"Good grief! You look like hell," Anya told the disheveled Patrick.
"Right now that's the least of my worries." He threw a stack of papers on the table. "Here are the glyphs, with my interpretations. Any comments, corrections, disagreements, be my guest. Cause for the first time in my life, I'd love to be wrong." He started flipping through the books of demons.
"Is there bad news," Buffy asked. "I mean, more bad news?"
"Abraxas."
"What's that," Xander asked.
Patrick kept looking through the volumes. "Santana's best studio album, but that's beside the point. Abraxas is a demon whose fame extends back to ancient times. Supposedly, it can be summoned by those possessing the Gnosis, or secret knowledge. Based on those glyphs, I believe the Mausoleans are summoning one tonight. Part of their strategy of diversion. To keep you busy while they do their damage. Here, I found it." He put the book on the table, and pointed to the large illustration. It had the head of a bird, the chest and arms of a man, and two snakes for legs.
"That's laughable," Buffy commented. "Talk about animal-human combos gone horribly wrong. How does it walk? Am I supposed to believe the snakes stand on their head? And the beak head. What's that for? Shouldn't it have big, sharp teeth. What, it's gonna slither after me and peck me to death?"
"I think the drawing's fanciful," Patrick surmised. "It can't be literal."
"Unless it's four demons in one," Anya proposed. "A bird demon, two demon snakes, and a human-looking demon."
"That's a good inference," Patrick replied. "Very good. Terrifying, but smart."
"That's me in a nutshell," Anya joked.
Patrick continued. "Four-in-one. Four elements. Four humors. Four cardinal points. It fits with their philosophy. And four demons means four times the diversion."
"How do you know this," Buffy asked.
"Panels 44 and 45. Plus, I knew they'd do something like this to avoid direct confrontation. For them, this is the end, and they're pulling out all the stops."
"Gosh, you're just a wreck," Anya said to Patrick. "Save the stressing for when you're life's in immediate danger. Otherwise you won't last. You can't exhaust yourself before you actually do anything."
"I've been doing things. All last night, today, deciphering those pictures, the symbols. Like trying to piece together an unknown language."
Anya flipped through Patrick's papers, looking at the symbols. "Actually, most of these are pretty obvious. Generic almost. A couple I don't know. All and all, like reading a picture book. Surprised it took you so long."
"Thank you. You must be Anya, the proprietor of this establishment."
"And you must be Patrick Gugan, wacky obsessive demon biologist."
"I consider myself intense. You seem to be the wacky one."
"I just tell it like it is. And if you don't like it - "
"Never said I didn't like it."
Anya smiled sheepishly. "Thanks, but, I think you should that I have a - "
"I'm not hitting on you."
"Oh," Anya said, a little embarrassed. "Why not?"
"Cause then I'd have to be polite to you, and where's the fun in that?"
"Didn't know scientists could be so nimble with the wordplay."
"It's cause I'm not hitting on you. Hence no pressure. Always easy to impress when you're not trying."
"Can we hold off on the Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolfe' tryouts for now," Buffy asked. "Try to stay focused, people."
"Of course," Anya agreed. "I just don't get this global disappearing act. You said something about anti-matter, but that's just so dull and, well"
"Unpoetic? Fine, I'll make it more lyrical," Patrick told her. "How's this? Creation is a balancing act. Everything must add up to zero. Every time a world is created, it's antithesis comes into being to maintain the balance of forces. Not a bizarro world. Not another reality. Just energy. Sitting somewhere. Bring this energy, this anti-matter, into contact with our world, and both entities disappear. Back to the beginning. Back to zero. The Order of Mausolus believes destroying our petty reality will cause them to ascend to a higher reality, to their conception of Heaven."
"You're just making that up, aren't you," Xander asked dismissively.
"Yep. Except for the last part. But it's like Superstring Theory. Impossible to prove. But also impossible to disprove. And it's not dull. Least I don't think it is." Winnie told Patrick that line about Superstring Theory.
"It's really just a simple destructive dialectic," Anya observed.
"This is precisely why I never ask why. Or how," Buffy announced. "Who, what, when, where, they'll keep you alive. Why and how are a waste my time. And right now, we don't have a lot of time to waste. Abraxas. Quadruple demon. Sundown. Where?"
Patrick thought. "Away from the Temple. They want to keep you out of their hair, after all. Probably someplace crowded, so you'll take notice. And somewhere near the Hellmouth, cause they need its energy to raise the thing."
"The high school! It's going to rise in the high school," Buffy asked.
"No. It will be night. So the school will be empty."
"I meant cause that's where the Hellmouth is."
"You mean there's an actual focal point, a literal mouth?"
"I thought you were know-it-all-guy?"
"I just figured it was a figurative description of an energy field. How bout that. But it's not like it rises FROM the Hellmouth, from beneath. It'll just materialize. And they can put it where they want, so long as it's in close proximity to the Hellmouth, meaning anywhere in this town."
"But you said it wants a crowd," Buffy began. "And if Anya's right about the bird thing, it'll want to be outdoors. Sounds like Main Street."
"MY shop is on Main Street," Anya realized.
Xander tried to put things in some sort of order. Make their tasks seem less daunting. "So it's a guy, two snakes, and a flying demon. You've handled these before, Buffy. But never all at once. How big are these snakes? Are we talking giant?"
"Can't be too giant," Patrick guessed. "They have to be in proportion to the guy. Or so the iconography would lead us to believe."
"So the guy could be giant," Xander asked.
"I assume he's quite large."
"But not 60 feet, King Kong large," Xander hoped.
"Of course not," Patrick replied. "Creating something that massive would consume far too much of their power. Plus it could go out of control and smash their Temple."
"So we're talking normal size demons, and four of them," Buffy concluded. "I can kill them. But I can only kill them one at a time. That's our big dilemma."
"That, and one of them may be airborne," Xander mentioned.
"And they're just the warmup," Patrick added.
"Right," Xander replied. "We still have to destroy the Temple." He walked around the table. "I got it! I think I know how to do that."
"Howitzer," Patrick asked.
"Like I could steal that. We don't blow it up. We take it down. You said this structure has a basement. Then it has a subterranean foundation, near the tunnels. From there, I can undermine the foundation."
"A sapping operation," Patrick observed.
"That's what I'd call it if I were Military Guy. But this is Construction Guy talking. I can get into our company's warehouse. Grab drills, saws, even some dynamite. A GPS system to make sure I'm in the right location. I think I can do this."
"After we deal with this Santana demon," Buffy told him.
"Abraxas demon," Patrick clarified.
"Whatever," Buffy replied. "Knowing its name doesn't help me kill it."
Xander told Buffy his plan. "We have a few hours before nightfall. I'll go now for my gear. Meet you back here before the sun sets. I won't start working until after we kill the quadruple demon."
"And while you're doing that I'll go home, get weapons, check on Willow."
"I'm going to go get some stuff too," Patrick added belatedly. Everyone left. Anya was alone and unprotected. She poked her head out the door.
"If this thing comes early and trashes my store before you get back, you're all gonna pay," she yelled at them as they went their separate ways.
Buffy went upstairs. Dawn was with Willow. "How is she," Buffy asked.
"Quiet. Sleeping most of the time," Dawn replied.
Buffy felt Willow's forehead. "Her fever's gone down. That's a good sign. Maybe I should wake her, see if she's ready to help."
