Chapter 5: The Review
Sunnydale, January 14th, 2017
"Jim?"
James Lake Jr. shook his head. "It can't be." It wasn't possible - but the Divine Compass was pulling straight towards the hospital in front of them - and not towards the magic shop.
"What can't be?" Claire asked in a whisper.
"The Hammer of the Troll Gods is in the hospital," Jim told her.
She gasped. "But…"
"The Slayer must be in the hospital. Hunting for Tobes!" Jim clenched his teeth. The Slayer had almost kill… almost beaten them before. But… they couldn't let her get Toby!
"We can't fight in the hospital!" Claire hissed. "All the patients… and the nurses and doctors… We can't risk them!"
"We need to get Toby out. We can't wait until he wakes up." Jim took a deep breath. "I'll… distract her. Lure her out so we can fight outside, where no others will be endangered." Like Toby. Or Claire. "You get Tobes out. Drop him… near the bus station. There's a patch of forest."
"And then I'll come back for you." She stared at him.
He nodded. "Right." He looked around as he gripped the amulet. No one was watching them in this corner near the hospital's parking lot. "For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!"
The armour appeared around him, and, a moment later, he felt the familiar weight on his body. Familiar and comforting. And Daylight appeared in his hand. For a second, he felt as if he could take on anyone and win. Gunmar. Angor Rot. The Slayer.
Then reality asserted itself, and he clenched his teeth again. But no matter the odds, he was the Trollhunter - he knew his duty. And defending the helpless and infirm was pretty much the heart of it. He gripped the Divine Compass with his left hand - easily now, with the armour enhancing his strength - and nodded at Claire. "Let's go."
She returned the nod and opened a portal.
They appeared in a dark room. "Storage room," Claire whispered. "I checked it while we waited."
So smart… He flashed her a smile, then activated the compass. "Left."
"Toby's room is to the right."
"Good." That meant the Slayer hadn't found him. "Text me as soon as he's safe."
"Yes."
With a bit of luck, Claire could get Toby out without Jim having to engage the Slayer. Still… better safe than sorry.
Claire opened the door, looked and left and right, then stepped outside.
Jim followed her. The corridor was empty. And the compass pulled to the left. He took a deep breath and let it guide him.
He moved down the corridor as he had been taught - without making noise. Or barely making noise. It wouldn't have fooled Draal, but it would, or so Jim hoped, fool the Slayer. And it meant he could hear...
...Footsteps! Around the corner! Coming towards him! He gasped - he had to hide! There! A door! He dashed forward, opened it and slid inside the room. Just before whoever was coming turned the corner. Whew!
"Who're you?"
Jim froze. That was… a child? He turned slowly. Yes. He was in a patient's room. And there was a little boy, sitting in a bed covered with comics, staring at him.
"Uh... " Think, Jim, think. What would an armoured man be doing in a hospital? "I'm with the… ah… Wish Foundation." Mom had mentioned that once or twice. "Aren't you Kevin Anderson?"
"No." The boy shook his head. "I'm William. William Fawley."
"Oh. Sorry. It seems they sent me to the wrong room." Jim forced himself to smile. "You didn't order a knight in shining armour, did you?"
William shook his head. "I didn't know you could do that! How do I do that?"
Right. The Wish Foundation was aimed at terminal kids. Jim grimaced. "The Foundation calls you. We've got a special system… a lottery… to decide where we go. Sorry."
William's face fell. "Aw."
Jim kept smiling. "So… Bye! And get well soon!"
Then he was outside again. Whew! But the compass was pulling to his left now - to the direction from where he had come. And where Claire was going. No!
Jim quickly made his way back. If the Slayer was… but how was she carrying the giant hammer without anyone raising a ruckus? Had she so much control over the hospital's staff?
He was past the storage room when the compass suddenly pulled to the left again - towards another door. Another patient's room. Not Toby's.
Jim licked his lips. What to do? Wait? Hide? Challenge the Slayer? Claire might need more time to transport Toby - he was asleep still, and she would have trouble moving him.
And what was the Slayer doing in the room? She would have realised at once that - he glanced at the sign - Mrs Miller wasn't Toby.
He shook his head. No choice. He slowly, carefully opened the door a gap, having to tighten his grip on the Divine Compass, and peered inside.
And stifled a gasp. The Slayer wasn't there. Only an old woman.
And Ben the intern. At whom the compass was pointing.
But this was wrong. Ben couldn't be the hammer - that was impossible. Blinky would've mentioned that. But… did Ben have the hammer? Hidden somehow, by magic?
Jim's phone vibrated, interrupting his frantic thoughts. Claire! She had gotten Toby out of the hospital! That meant he had to leave now.
"Is that your phone?" Jim heard Ben ask the patient.
"My phone?"
Jim clenched his teeth, held his breath and closed the door. He had to leave now! Before Ben - or anyone else - saw him. Back… and out of the hospital. He quickly moved towards the lobby, then reconsidered. People were there. He'd have to dismiss the armour - and they would see him. There was a camera in the lobby, too. Perhaps the side entrance…
He heard loud voices. "...and the bed was empty! He was still unconscious - he couldn't leave by himself!"
Oh, no! They had found about Toby! Jim stopped, then turned. The storage room! He dashed back, towards the room they had used to enter the hospital. The voices were coming closer - they were headed his way!
He ran faster, no longer caring about how loud he was, and reached the storage room ahead of the other people.
He leaned against the door, fished out his phone and frantically sent a text to Claire.
Stuck in Storage Room, portal me out!
Sent. He slowed his breathing, then held his breath when he heard the voices right outside the room.
"I heard steps, yes. Loud ones."
"Here?"
"Yes, doctor. We should check the rooms."
"Are you crazy, Miller?"
"But, doctor…"
"Not by yourself! What if it's an addict trying to rob the pharmacy? Or… you know."
"Yes, doctor. I'll call... security."
Jim clenched his teeth. So, the hospital was in with the Slayer. They were calling her. Where was Claire?
Wait. The Slayer couldn't get here quickly enough to beat Claire. Not unless she was already in the building. Or if something or someone was delaying Claire…
But before he could work himself up, a portal appeared in front of him. "Jim?"
"Claire!" he whispered.
A moment later, he was in the small patch of woods near the bus station. And Toby was there, on the ground, snoring. And wearing hospital scrubs and bandages. "Tobes…"
"He's alright. Or should be," Claire said. He glanced at her, and she bit her lower lip. "But I didn't find his clothes."
"I noticed." At least they had kept his hammer safe. Jom was sure Toby wouldn't worry about his clothes - he had half a dozen spare sets.
"And the ground here isn't… He can't rest here," Claire said.
Jim nodded. "But… where can we take him?" The hospital was out of the question. And they couldn't take him to a hotel, either. Break into an empty house? How would they find one? They weren't trained burglars!
"We…" Join swallowed. "We need to get him home."
"With him like this? We'll be stopped in the bus!"
He drew a deep breath. "Can you… make a portal home?"
Claire looked at him. "I'm very familiar with it, yes. But…"
"It's too dangerous?"
Claire shook her head. "I can do it. I just have to focus."
"Ah. But do you have the energy?"
"It's a matter of mental focus. Concentration."
"Ah." And she was already tired - Jim could see the signs. She looked a little frazzled. And she moved a little… well, slowly. If she opened a portal to Arcadia Oaks, she would be unable to do much afterwards. And if the Slayer found them… "Go back with him."
She glared at him in return. "And leave you alone here? No! My portals are our best defence against the Slayer. And our best way to escape her."
He cringed at her expression. "But…"
"No. If you stay here, I'll stay here."
Well… He sighed. They needed the hammer. "Alright. But let's get Toby to safety."
"Ok."
She took a deep breath - he saw her chest heaving - and flicked her staff. A portal started to open, but it wavered, growing and shrinking rapidly instead of forming at once.
"Fair Claire?"
That was Blinky's voice! "Tobes got hurt! We're sending him back!" Jim told them..
"Good gracious! We'll need to get him to a Healer! Or a Doctor!"
"Wingman…"
"No, no, he was treated already; he just needs to sleep it off!" Jim blurted out. Claire was still struggling to open the portal.
"Fair Claire, focus on us, not the location. I dare say you're more familiar with us than with Tobias's room."
Claire nodded, Jim saw, and closed her eyes, clenching her teeth.
And the portal stabilised. Jim let his breath out, quickly scooped up Toby, and stepped to the portal. "Blinky?"
AAARRRGGHH! appeared on the other side, and Jim handed Toby over. "He'll be fine," Jim said, stepping back. "He just…"
The portal closed abruptly, and Claire sagged, sinking down to her knees while propping herself up with her staff.
"Claire!" He reached out for her, then stopped. "Are you...?"
She smiled weakly at him. "That was more difficult than I thought. I should've aimed for Blinky straight away."
She closed her eyes. "I need a little rest."
He caught her before she hit her head on the ground and gently lowered her down.
"...and we've got a system to track suspicious deaths - I've automated the procedure with a quick script - in both the local news and the government, well, the police systems. That way, we catch most fledglings on the first rise, which has reduced the number of deaths by exsanguination by fifty per cent. The other fifty per cent are mostly due to vampires moving into the town from other areas and the odd vampire who is raised in someone's backyard - sometimes, vampires are quite cunning, but it's hard to control the bloodlust - although I think it would be more precise to call it bloodthirst, but that has also recently acquired certain implications, at least in teenage and tween slang. Anyway, so, while there have been vampires who flew under the radar and managed to raise more of them - we caught a number of them thanks to truancy reports; vampires really shouldn't try to turn students since students missing class due to undead-induced sunlight allergy tend to get noticed - the local schools have been tracking student numbers much better since we killed Mayor Wilkinson since now they rely more on state subsidies for schools. His funds are still used to cover health costs, by the way, and unless we're running into another financial crisis or health costs rise beyond the predicted values, the investments should keep the fund afloat. I wonder if the mayor used a dark ritual for those predictions since I have been checking his investment history, and it was almost perfect - just varied enough to avoid the federal investigators. Not that I would ever contemplate doing a magic spell for financial gains, even though more funding would be really useful for battling the demony threats to mankind."
Buffy Summers had to hide a grin when she caught the expression on the old geezer - Philip something - interviewing Willow. She was babbling most excellently today. On the other hand, Buffy suspected that this wasn't an act - her bestie liked to show off, even though she didn't like that she liked showing off, and… This was getting complicated. Anyway, Buffy knew Willow liked tests, and this was like a big test. Hugely important. More important for their future, arguably, than the SATs - which were like the last tests Buffy had done good at, not counting the test against that Ranger squad the Initiative had arranged.
She buried the memory. That way lay Riley, and Buffy really didn't need to think about Mr 'I let vampires suck my blood because you won't pamper my fragile male ego'. Why were all the men in her life so… so… bad at being good supportive boyfriends of a Slayer?
"So… you have infiltrated the entire local government?" Philip asked.
"Yes? I mean, no - are you a cop? Do I need a lawyer? I mean, sorry, I know you aren't a cop, but it just seemed the thing to say - too many television shows, I guess; my parents did warn me about that, but they also warned me about a variety of things that turned out to be harmless and failed to warn me about a variety of things, usually demony, that are very dangerous, so... " Willow took a deep breath. "I wouldn't call it infiltrating the government, actually. I'm merely… exercising my rights of self-defence and information access. After all, we need this information to do our job. Only we're not getting paid for this, either, which seems a little unfair, seeing as we're responsible for keeping the biggest demon population on the continent in check. At least reimbursing us for the hardware costs would be a big help."
"Hardware costs?" Philip sounded as lost as he looked.
"Yes. I run a dedicated rig for this, with a battery pack ready to supply power in the case of a blackout - some demons might cause a blackout for nefarious purposes, you know? They haven't so far, but it's best to be prepared, don't you think?"
"Yes."
"Right." Willow cleared her throat. "Anyway, where was I? Right! Buffy acts on the information gathered, which means the efficiency of her patrols is way higher than if she just randomly patrolled the cemeteries - I've run the numbers, and the data doesn't lie. See? The increase in slayings and the reduction in deaths is clearly influenced by the introduction of this tracking system!"
"I believe my dear colleague is a little overwhelmed," Giles, leaning against the counter, commented - low enough so only Buffy's ears would pick it up. Which, of course, he knew. She flashed him a smile, which returned with one of his own.
At least this review was going well. Probably. She cocked her head and tried to focus on the interview in the back.
"So… I mostly do what needs to be done. Carpenting, other repairs, playing bait, axe-support... " Buffy knew Xander was shrugging without having to see him.
"So… are those training dummies your work?"
"Yes. I also carve stakes. I know, in a pinch, any piece of wood will work, but properly carved stakes just work better. I've got it down pretty well now and make most stakes in my workshop, but I also like to carve to, you know, relax. Something soothing about creating a weapon to kill more vampires."
And now Xander would be wearing that dopey smile with only a hint at bloodlust - the good kind of bloodlust, in Buffy's opinion. Too bad she couldn't see the Watcher's reaction to that.
"Miss Summers?"
She suppressed a sigh. And now it was time for her test. With Travers, the not-teacher-but-still-teachery guy from hell. Or London. She couldn't help it. "Yes?" She cocked her head to the side and beamed at the old geezer with the best obviously-fake smile she could muster.
He frowned in return - as did Giles - but didn't comment. Instead, he gestured towards a small table that usually served to display scented oils and now had two mismatched chairs placed there. "Shall we sit down?"
She didn't want to. Sitting down when she wanted to lash out, show the man that she was the Slayer felt wrong. But this wasn't a battle she could win by punching people. Probably not. "Yes, we shall."
"You've been patrolling quite irregularly," he said as soon as they sat.
"Of course," she retorted. "If you patrol regularly, the enemy will adapt to your pattern. That's basic tactics." Riley had said so as well.
Travers stared at her for a moment, then looked at his notes. Buffy resisted the urge to crane her neck to try and decipher them. They didn't look like they were written in a neat hand, anyway. "You spend a lot of time in college."
"Yes. A good education is worth a lot. Didn't you just criticise my 'lack of classical education'?"
"Psychology isn't exactly necessary for a Slayer."
She sniffed. "On the contrary. Insight into how people behave is very useful. And do you know how many demony plots we discovered at school or in college?"
"All those that you've reported," he shot back.
"I've reported all the demons! And the witches. And the warlocks."
"Yes. Without much detail, though."
Hadn't they gone over that before? She narrowed her eyes. "Do you still think I'm making this up?"
"Your numbers are, even taking into account that you're on a Hellmouth, far too high compared to all other Slayers on record."
"I'll say, Quentin! Are you accusing me of falsifying my reports?" Giles butted in.
The two men glared at each other. "I'm merely pointing out how unusual those numbers are."
"That's the Hellmouth for you." Buffy bared her teeth at both. She was the Slayer - this was about her. "Apocalypse Season round the clock."
"Your flippant attitude isn't helping," Travers said.
"It's gallows humour," she shot back. "It's how people - some people - cope with constant fighting and lethal danger." Go, psychology course! She leaned forward. "Do you know why so many Slayers die so soon? Even or especially those trained by Watchers their entire life?"
Travers couldn't resist. He leaned forward as well. "Training can only go so far in preparing them for their duty."
She scoffed. "That's only half the reason. The other half is the constant fighting with no rest. After a while, it gets too much. Fighting demons night after night, no rest for the not-wicked, no reward or relaxation, just the next mission, the next fight to look forward to? No one can take that."
"Slayers fight to the last! They don't give up!"
"The hell they don't!" she spat. "They don't give up like dropping their stake and baring their throat - but they stop caring whether they live or die. Subconsciously, they want it to end. And that's when and why they die. Every Slayer has a death wish after a while." Spike had told her that a while ago, but it made sense. And her college books agreed.
Travers was staring at her. Hah! But so was everyone else in the shop. Willow was sniffling. And Giles looked like she had hit him. With all the power of a Slayer.
Damn.
Claire was looking better, James Lake Jr. noticed. She wasn't looking good, though. Well, she was always looking good, of course - she was so beautiful, it hurt sometimes - but she was still looking tired. Just not exhausted anymore. She needed more rest.
But it was the middle of the afternoon - they only had a few more hours until they had to take the bus back. And Jim doubted that Claire could open a portal to Arcadia Oaks in her current state. Though a little more rest wouldn't hurt. They could stay a little longer, sitting on the bench here, in the park.
But Claire suddenly gasped. "Oh, no! We forgot to ask Blinky about the Divine Compass!"
Oh. Right. "Well, we were a little busy, what with Tobes and the portal," Jim said. "Let's call him." He grabbed his phone from his backpack and dialled the phone they had left with Blinky.
"How does this work again? Master Jim? Can you hear me?"
"Yes, Blinky," Jim said.
"Master Jim! What happened? Do you require assistance?"
"Yes. I mean, the talking kind. Information. We aren't fighting," Jim replied. "But… when I used the Divine Compass at the hospital, it pointed at an intern, not at the hammer."
"Oh. Are you sure? Maybe the… intern? … was standing between you and the hammer?"
"Yes, I'm sure." Jim rolled his eyes. As if he'd make such an obvious mistake. "It moved when he moved."
"Oh," Blinky repeated himself. "Well, the Divine Compass, as the name says, points at anything divine in origin or nature."
"Ben the intern is a god?" Jim blurted out.
"No, no." Blinky chuckled. "The times of gods walking the earth are long gone. But he might have a divine ancestor. Although that would've had to have been a recent, ah, event, for the compass to pick it up. The, ah, touch of the divine, as such is sometimes called, rarely last for more than one or two generations."
"Well, it was as strong or even stronger than the call of the hammer," Jim told him.
"That's very curious. Oh, I wish I were there and could take a look myself. But I think this is a mystery for another time. You need to focus on recovering the Hammer of the Troll Gods, Master Jim."
"We're, ah, working on it. How's Toby?"
"Tobias is still resting, but his wounds haven't opened during transit, and they don't look too severe."
"Good." Jim smiled. At least his friend was safe.
He glanced at Claire. If only he could say the same about her… He sighed. "So… we still have to get the hammer, but the Slayer and her friends - and allies - are now forewarned."
"I think that's an accurate, if not entirely encouraging, summary of the current situation, Master Jim."
"And another distraction won't work," Claire added.
"As Draal would say: Never count on your enemy making the same mistake twice."
Jim pressed his lips together. He knew that quote - and that Drall added: So, make sure that your first shot hits. "Yes. So, I was wondering if you had any ideas. Because I'm kind of out of ideas - other than 'charge in, grab the hammer and portal out'." And he knew that the Slayer was too quick for that to work.
"Perhaps a magical way to immobilise the Slayer? Long enough for you to acquire the hammer?" Blinky asked.
Jim smiled. "Yes, exactly!"
"I'm afraid nothing comes to mind, Master Jim."
Jim stopped smiling and sighed again. Blinky was a good friend, a great teacher, an invaluable source of crucial information, but his manner of addressing certain topics or sharing said information at times left something to be desired. "So, what can we do?"
"We're running out of time," Claire said. "But I have an idea. We..." She suddenly gasped. "Oh my God! I completely forgot about the prisoner!"
Jim slapped his forehead - he had forgotten about the blond man himself.
"The prisoner?" Blinky asked. "I do not recall you mentioning a prisoner."
"We, uh, were attacked by a blond man, a friend of the Slayer, in the shop, and I, kind of, trapped him in the… shadow dimension." Claire looked embarrassed. About as embarrassed as Jim felt.
"I see," Blinky replied. "Well, it might be a little distasteful, but if your 'prisoner' is a friend of the Slayer, or a valued ally, then you might offer them an exchange."
"The hammer for the prisoner." Jim nodded. It did feel a little dishonourable. More than a little, actually. But it might get them the hammer without anyone else having to be hurt. Or killed.
"The welfare of the Slayer is the duty of the Watcher." Travers sounded as arrogant as ever, in Buffy Summers's opinion.
"As you pointed out earlier today - several times, I might add - I was removed as Buffy's watcher years ago," Giles said. "And replaced by a pillock," he muttered under his breath, low enough so only Buffy could hear it. In a normal tone, he added: "And while I was officially her Watcher, I did my best to follow instructions and rules laid down by this Council. None of them covered a Slayer's mental health. Apart from how to watch for signs of demonic possession, corruption or Doppelgängers."
"That's because no one so far has had to deal with this," Nigel cut in. "No Slayer or Watcher has ever reported such a… condition."
"It's called post-traumatic stress disorder," Willow snapped. "And it has been well-documented since World War One. Look it up! It was called battle fatigue at the time." Buffy's bestie even bared her teeth at the Watchers before she turned back to Buffy with that horrible horrified expression. "I'm so sorry I missed that - I should've realised what was happening to you! My parents are psychologists! I grew up on this!" she all but wailed. "I'm such a bad friend!"
Buffy hugged her - again - and patted her on the back. "It's OK."
"Yeah, Wills, it's OK," Xander added awkwardly. At least with his broken arm, he couldn't hug Buffy as well. Not that she minded hugs - but in front of everyone? She was supposed to be the perfect Slayer and impress the Council. Not act like...
"No, it's not! And now you're comforting me, even though I should be comforting you!"
Buffy felt tears stain her shoulder and suppressed a sigh. That was exactly why she hadn't told anyone else about this. She didn't want her friends to… to think that…
"So, Buffy, you're not going to kill yourself, right?"
...that. Buffy glared at Dawn, who was sitting behind the counter, playing with some oversized marbles or something. "No, I'm not," she spat as Willow's grip on her tightened. "I've got too much to fight for." Like Dawn.
"A laudable and very Slayer attitude." The woman watcher, Lydia, nodded with an approving expression.
"Nevertheless," Giles cut in, "It's clear that the Council's instructions and doctrine never covered a Slayer's mental trauma. It's past time to change this." He looked at Buffy. "I'm sorry for missing this, Buffy."
She gritted her teeth. She was the Slayer - not some broken girl. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. And we'll talk about this. But we're currently having a crisis. We've got a skanky demon bitch from hell trying to kill us all."
Giles met her eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. But we will address this afterwards."
"Therapy. Buffy needs therapy," Willow mumbled. Loudly.
"Therapy? For the Slayer?" Philip sounded shocked. "That's… that would expose our most guarded secrets to an outsider. An American outsider!"
"Hey! American here!" Buffy told him.
"You're the Slayer; that supersedes nationality," the Watcher replied. "Well, it should. And we haven't yet completed our review. We should..."
He was interrupted by the shop's phone ringing.
James Lake Jr. held his breath, and not just because the payphone they had found near the bus station smelt a little, and went over his planned speech - well, not really a speech; just what he wanted to say - once more as he waited for someone to pick up the phone. Perhaps…
"Magic Box, How may we help you? We're currently forcibly closed, but we can do orders and will be able to sell you whatever you want come Monday." That voice far too chipper to be real.
He cleared his throat. "I want to talk to the Slayer." Firm and clear. Now to...
"Buffy, it's for you!"
That went easier than he had expected.
"Yes?"
"Is this the Slayer?" Jim asked.
"Who is this?" It sounded like the Slayer. Probably.
Jim took a deep breath. "We have your friend. The blond one. If you want him back, give us the hammer." Just like in the movies. He looked at Claire, who was standing right next to him, close enough so she could hear the Slayer, and she flashed him a smile.
"Spike? You've got Spike?"
Why would Jim know the man's name? "The blond guy who fought us - tried to fight us - at the shop," he clarified.
"Prove it!"
Oh. "How?"
"Let me talk to him."
He blinked. "We're not exactly letting him out to answer the phone," he told her.
"Ah."
"But we have him. Safe - for the moment." Just like the movies, Jim told himself.
"Let me guess: If you don't get my hammer, you will drop him in the sun in front of the shop so I can watch him burn?" The Slayer sounded rather… cynical. Or sarcastic. It was hard to tell over the phone. Especially this crappy payphone. He heard a cry of 'Buffy!' as well.
Just like the movies, he reminded himself. But seriously - burning the man to death? Who did the Slayer think they… Right. They thought they were evil demons. "And let you save him? No," he said. "You'll just never see him again." He clenched his teeth. This had to work. They couldn't exactly keep the prisoner forever. Or for any length of time.
"I want proof that he's still alive," the Slayer told him. "And no cutting off body parts of him!"
Jim winced at the image that conjured. "I told you, we won't let him on the phone."
"Well, duh, of course not."
Jim blinked. The Slayer must be trying to confuse him. Keep him distracted or something. "Unless you have an acceptable way to prove that we have him - unhurt for now - you'll have to trust us."
"Hah! Trust you? I know what you want!"
Of course, she did - Jim had told her. "The hammer. Of the Troll Gods," he clarified.
"Yeah, right."
"The hammer for your friend, Spike. We'll make the exchange in an hour. In the park where we fought for the first time. We'll be in disguise. Come alone." He hung up.
And sighed. "Do you think they'll come?"
Claire bit her lower lip before she answered. "I don't know. They wanted proof that the man's still alive. And we can't give them that."
"Yeah." They couldn't risk the prisoner escaping. "We'll have to hope they'll come for... Spike? What kind of name is Spike?"
Claire frowned. "A nickname, I'd say." Then her eyes widened. "I think I've read that name before."
"Yes?" Jim was confused.
"I have to call Blinky," she said, pulling out her cellphone.
"Let's move away from here, though," Jim said. "They might find out that we used the payphone." He wasn't sure if payphones were in the phone directory, but better not take any chances.
"Yes." Claire still started calling as soon as they were walking away. "Blinky?"
Jim couldn't hear Blinky's reply. Which was a good thing - he wouldn't be distracted while keeping an eye out for the Slayer. Or her friends. He couldn't exactly walk around in armour here, which meant they were vulnerable. Especially with Claire distracted by her phone call.
"Yes, we're fine."
"No, I'm not tired any more. Not much, at least."
"No. Yes, look - I need to know: Was there a 'Spike' mentioned in the books you gave me to read?"
"I've read all of them."
"Of course I did!"
"Yes."
"Do you remember the name? Spike. No, I don't know if that's English or some demon language."
No one was looking at them funny, at least.
Then he noticed that Claire was paling.
"William the Bloody? A member of the Whirlwind?"
Jim stared at her.
Claire shook her head. "Jim! We've captured a vampire!"
"A vampire." The blond man was a vampire? Jim shook his head. That… explained a lot, actually. His speed and strength, at least. But… "He didn't look like a vampire," Jim pointed out. "He didn't have the demon face Blinky told us about."
"He's over a hundred years old - he probably doesn't need to change his face," Claire said. "But, Jim - this is an infamous vampire. He's over a hundred years old! He and three others terrorised Europe as "the Whirlwind". He's like… Angor Rot!"
Jim felt his stomach drop. Angor Rot was terrifying. And they had his vampire version trapped in Claire's shadow dimension? "Shit. And we just offered to exchange him for the hammer."
"It's worse than we feared!" Claire replied. "The Slayer is working with a monster! William the Bloody must have killed thousands of people!"
Jim pressed his lips together. That was a far more terrifying name than 'Spike' - 'Spike' sounded like a dog's name. A yappy bulldog with a spiked collar. 'William the Bloody' conjured up images of a monster covered in blood. Standing knee-deep in blood. He shuddered. "We can't trust the Slayer. Not if she's working with such a monster."
"No, we can't. We need a plan to get the hammer and get away," Claire said.
"And we need it quickly," Jim added. "We've got… fifty minutes left."
"Guys, we need a plan. We have fifty minutes to get ready to recover Spike and deal with the fake green cannibal demons!" Buffy said, not quite slamming her hands on the table. The flimsy thing still creaked - they really needed a decent planning table-
"Deathwok Clan Demons," Willow said.
"Whatever - we know they are using makeup to hide their true appearance. They even announced they'll come in disguise." Buffy gritted her teeth at the arrogance. "Anyway," she went on before anyone could interrupt again. "We know they can create portals both to transport themselves and to transport - or capture - others. At least one of them is also heavily armoured and as strong as a vampire, at least. And they have magic weapons. But we can deal with those - I had the big guy on the ropes. The portals are the big thing. If you don't pay attention, you'll find yourself falling or running into one of those - and you're gone. At the same time, they can use them to flee anytime they choose."
"A succinct analysis," one of the Council guys cut in. Nigel, that was his name. "But do you also have a solution for this problem?"
She frowned at him. Hadn't he paid attention? This was the planning session! "The obvious solution is to take out the skimpy bikini witch," she said.
Willow made a pouty face. "We don't know if she's a witch - or even a human. She could just be wielding a weapon that lets her create portals."
"Right, sorry," Buffy amended. "The skimpy bikini… woman? Lady? Enemy?"
"I don't think using the correct nomenclature is important," Philipp spoke up.
"On the contrary," Giles objected. "Finding out what - or who - we're facing is of utmost importance when preparing for battle. Knowing whether we are facing demons trying to frame another demon species or humans trying to pass as demons is of critical importance."
"Well, no human can stand up to the Slayer," Philipp said. "They - at least one of them - proved to be too strong for a human."
"A mixed group of humans and demons?" Nigel frowned.
"Or a very clever group of demons," Xander cut in. "But one supernaturally tough enemy doesn't mean all of them are. I mean - look at us! Especially me and my broken arm."
"I almost killed one of them!" Dawn piped up. "Got them good with the baseball bat!"
Her little sister - and the Key the skanky demon wanted, Buffy reminded herself - sounded far too bloodthirsty for comfort, in Buffy's opinion. But that didn't mean the Council guys' had the right to go all condescending on her!
"We don't know if you did any lasting damage," Giles pointed out. "Some demons are regenerating - they can be wounded easily but will quickly recover."
"Well, he didn't seem to recover!" Dawn protested. "He squealed like a pig!"
"Guys!" Willow spoke up. "I just checked the Sunnydale Memorial records - they report that a patient admitted today has vanished. A patient with a bruised shoulder and internal bleeding. The description - especially the weight - matches the, uh, person Dawn struck."
"Internal bleeding? Yes!" Dawn cheered.
Buffy really had to talk to her about what was appropriate for a non-Slayer Summers. The last thing she wanted was for her little sister trying to hunt demons because she was jealous of Buffy. She cleared her throat.
"And he was human?" Nigel asked. "Not near human? Can we trust the staff's competence and integrity?"
"Well, most of the worst stooges of the mayor have been replaced," Willow said. "And while the doctors are quick to label vampire and demon attacks 'barbecue fork stabbings' and 'animal attacks', they haven't put down any demon as a human patient without adding some codes."
"As far as we know," Giles reminded them.
"Yes. But they had to do surgery here, and the doctor who filed the report seems quite diligent. None of the double-speak we know from other reports," Willow retorted.
Buffy cleared her throat. "So we know we're facing at least one human. That changes things." She grinned. "I've got an idea about how to deal with that pesky little portal girl!"
