Suggest Listening:

"In a Rut" by Whitney Rose

"Twist in My Sobriety" by Tanita Tikaram

"Lightning Bolt" by Jake Bugg

"Tripe Face Boogie" by Little Feat

[Several people have asked about the song suggestions. These are songs that I listened to while writing a particular story and which, perhaps, reflect its mood. They're also songs I like a lot.]

The Ratchet Effect

By

Michael Walker

Cordelia climbed into the passenger seat of the 4Runner. She was dressed in a black-and-gold houndstooth vest over black pants and a marigold ribbed turtleneck. Matti backed out of the driveway and turned into the street.

Cordelia looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. "You, uh, you don't have to go by the coffee shop. We can just go to school."

Matti considered this for a moment. "You're not afraid you'll lose cred pulling up in my car?"

Cordelia did not look up. "I don't have any cred to lose after the funeral. Why pretend?"

Matti shrugged. "Your call."


"He's back." Xander spread his arms wide. A single crutch rested under one arm.

"Xander!" Willow squealed. She jumped up from the chair and ran toward him, only to come to a skidding halt. "Oh, sorry, I…" She grimaced and shrugged.

"Bring it in, Will. A hug won't break me." He grinned as she took his advice and wrapped her arms around him. Oz rose at a more leisurely pace, nodding.

"Good to see you. How goes it?" he asked.

"Well, the knee is sore, but that's apparently normal. I start physical therapy today after school." Xander shrugged. "So, I guess, all right, all things considered."

Oz nodded. "Glad you're back."

"Where's Buffy?" Xander asked, awkwardly lowering himself onto the lounge sofa. Willow and Oz sat opposite; Oz pulled out a textbook.

"Oh." Willow twisted her shoulders and waved toward the hall. "She's meeting someone down by the band room."

Xander did an exaggerated take. "The band room? Why is Giles hanging out there?"

Willow cocked her head. "She's not meeting Giles, you giant doofus. She has a life."

"Really? Since when?"

"She's meeting Trey." Oz never looked up from his book.

"They're going out on a date." Willow giggled, eyes bright.

"Will, we're not in sixth grade. People going on a date isn't that big a deal." Xander looked over his shoulder. "Why's she going out with him? I mean, what does he offer, you know, besides his great hair… all those cool band t-shirts…. his talent…" He turned back. "On second thought, why aren't I dating him?"

"Well, I think it's exciting. Buffy needs to get back to normal after… you know." Willow scrunched her nose.

"You mean, the normal where she sent her vampire boyfriend to hell? That's stretching 'normal' about as far as it can go." Xander raised one eyebrow.

Willow smacked his shoulder. "You know what I mean, you big dummy."


Buffy held her books against her chest and watched the doors to the band room.

Trey came out. He was dressed in white painters pants and a black T-shirt with a rectangular logo bordered by two vertical lines of text.

"Little Feat. Waiting for Columbus," she read. "Wait, is that a tomato in a hammock?"

"Yeah," he said. "They were a great band, but they got a little surreal with their album art." He grinned and ducked his head; his long hair fell over his face, and Buffy realized she was charmed.

"How many band shirts do you have?" she asked.

He shrugged without taking his hands out of his pockets. "A lot. Some of 'em are mine, some belonged to my dad or uncles."

"And that one?"

He looked down at the logo. "Oh, yeah, this one's original, with the original lineup."

Buffy nodded. "Cool. Hey, I wanted to make sure we were still on for Friday."

"Um, yeah, I'm still good to go if you are."

"Definitely." The Slayer used her most sincere voice.

"Okay, the movie starts at seven, so I was thinking, maybe dinner at five-thirty or six, someplace close to the U, then go to the movie. Sound good?"

"Sounds good. Sounds more than good. My house is at sixteen-thirty Revello Drive."

"Okay." He nodded and smiled.

Buffy started to leave, then turned back. "I'm sorry, I know this is weird, it's Monday, we're going out Friday, but… time is kinda wacky right now, you know, the funeral and everything?"

Trey shrugged. "I understand. If it helps, I'm glad to get the deets nailed down. I don't like it when everything's open-ended, so this, this is fine."

Buffy nodded and smothered the urge to giggle. "Noted and filed. See you around. Definitely see you on Friday."


"We have actions planned here, here, and here." Brooks pointed at three different spots on the map of Sunnydale on Mr. Trick's office wall. "All scheduled to begin ten minutes after sundown."

"Those are pretty widely-spaced." Delilah glanced back and forth as Brooks and Trick turned toward her.

"Lady makes a point," Trick said, slowly transferring his gaze from her back to Brooks.

"That's the point." Brooks consulted a clipboard. "We have vehicles to transport teams here and here. Two teams will be in this vehicle, one of the teams will be able to use this utility tunnel to move from the drop point to their spot and wait underground for sunset." He looked from Trick to Delilah. "All vehicles are UV prepped."

Trick nodded. "Proceed."

Brooks licked his lips. "At the given time, all three units will proceed with their missions. Team A will be at the hospital. Another transaction with our blood supplier. Since they have an actual objective, they will use one of the vehicles and avoid prolonged contact with the enemy. They should be back here before the other teams. St. Michael's has a basketball game; it's senior night, so it should be a pretty good crowd. That's Team B's target. Their orders are to make a lot of noise and smoke. Kill a few people, maybe turn a couple, but mostly draw attention and panic the public. Team C is here at Fort Wilkins."

"Any particular reason? Do we need anything from the base?"

Brooks shook his head. "No, but if you look at the three locations, they form a rough triangle. I don't think it will have much effect on the Reverend's forces, but I think the nature of the targets and that triangle shape will drive the Slayer and her allies batty trying to figure out the connection. Team C will make their presence known, then retreat to this spot–" he pointed to the map "-and await exfil. Team B will have one of the vehicles. When they break contact at St. Michael's, they will use secondary streets to approach the base, then rendezvous with Team C and return here."

"Nice." Trick nodded. "May I add one more thing?"

Brooks looked solemn. "Yes, sir."

Trick tapped the map with a long, manicured forefinger. "We need the hospital as part of our blood supply. We simply can't drain enough humans to feed ourselves, not at this point in the operation. Thing is, even a blind donkey can figure that out, which means the Clampetts will, eventually. The Slayer may have already worked it out. Have Team C probe the base while they're sowing disorder. Access points, egress routes, that sort of thing."

"Sir?" Brooks said.

Trick turned away from the map. "Well, if the light bulb goes on over the sheep-humpers' heads, and they decide to sit on the hospital and wait for us, what else does the fort possess?"

There was a beat of silence, then Delilah said, "A medical center. With its own blood supply."

Trick tapped his nose and pointed at her, then turned to Brooks. "Go. Make it happen. Good work." As his minion left the room, Trick turned to Delilah. "And you."

"Shipping preparations are underway. We are making sure that the process is expedited at both the departure and arrival ports."

"You mean we're bribing people."

"Yes. That's what we do. Now, it is being transported via container ship, since artifacts of this sort are sometimes… unstable if transported by air."

"Mm-hm." Trick nodded.

"The subject of the Guardian is–"

Trick held up a hand. "I have a contact who is looking into that for us, someone who has access to knowledge that you and I do not possess and cannot obtain. You work on the logistics, I'll oversee the hoodoo."

Delilah made a mark on her legal pad. "Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?"

"No," Trick said. "Let's just be calm and let things work."


Buffy drew back on the bow, sighted down the arrow, and let fly. As soon as the missile was on its way, she nocked another arrow, shifted slightly to her right, adjusted for the slight crosswind, and released. One benefit of vamp-on-vamp violence was the lack of endangered civilians; this was the definition of a target-rich environment. She fired her last arrow; it flew straight and true, passing through the back of one vampire and retaining enough force to puncture the heart of its adversary. She pumped a fist as both vamps exploded into dust, then dropped her bow and drew stakes.

She sprinted across Ruggs Field, closing on the melee at the parking lot. There was no need to assess the situation; everything in front of her was a target. In addition, the vamps were fighting each other, which was fine with the Slayer, much better than a united front. She stabbed and spun, kicked, punched, thrust her stakes and pulled them back, a blur of strength and speed in a catharsis of action.

Buffy thrust upward and the point of the stake sent up under the vampire's sternum as she dissolved into ash. The Slayer whirled, panting, and found herself in an empty parking lot. Faint plumes of ash drifted through the air, matching the fine layer that covered her. Buffy slapped her sleeves and shook her arms as a windowless white van made a screeching turn at the corner. She took a couple of deep breaths, then grimaced and spat. Too much ex-vamp in the air to do that yet. She closed her eyes, letting the adrenaline seep away. She felt a rush, a high, course through her. There were no complex emotional scenarios here, no tangled family or social sagas, just one goal: find the enemy and knock it down. She exhaled sharply and began picking up her arrows.

She was just crossing the street to pick up her bow when she heard sirens approaching from the west. She ran into the field and grabbed her bow and quiver, then rushed along Oak Park. The sirens had passed, but she arrived at the corner in time to see the tail lights. They flared as the car braked, then made a hard left turn onto Maple Court. Maple Court… St. Michael's. Buffy groaned and ran toward the school, cutting behind the Southern Coast condos.

The scene at St. Michael's was a mess. Ambulance and police units were in the parking lots; red-and-blue lights created a garish backdrop. The Slayer saw bodies on the pavement, panicked people herded toward the building, EMTs attending the wounded, police officers putting up tape and measuring distances. Buffy shook her head as she searched for a hiding place for her bow. Divested of her weapon, she picked her way across the street to blend in with the crowd.


Xander hobbled up the steps. Oz and Willow waited on the landing. "Cool shirt," Xander said. Oz looked down at his green-and-black batik print.

"Thanks," he said.

"How was your therapy?" Willow asked as she held open the door.

"Cable television has lied to me." Xander swung across the threshold. "Not a single physical therapist looked anything like Denise Richards or Jennifer Love Hewitt."

"Reality bites," Oz said.

"They don't look like Winona Ryder, either, and they lie."

"How so?" Willow asked as they started toward class.

"'Therapy' sounds all warm and cozy, but it's a bait and switch. If I wanted to lift weights, I'd join the swim team again, which, speaking of, swimming is part of the program."

"I like swimming. You like swimming," Willow said.

"Not in a pool full of ninety-year-olds rehabbing their hip replacements." Xander shuddered. "I'll never be able to eat cottage cheese again."

Willow's mouth turned down. "Did you eat cottage cheese before?"

"It's the principle."

"What principle?" Buffy said as she appeared in front of them.

Oz shook his head. "Don't ask," Willow said.

"Hey, Buffy, you wanna carry my books?" Xander dangled his backpack by a strap.

Buffy eyed the backpack, then Xander. "Only if you want them dropped in the library," she said.

"Off to see Giles before class?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, need to debrief about last night. See you at lunch?"

"Definitely." Willow slapped at Xander's backpack. "Put that on. They didn't operate on your shoulder."

Xander sullenly shrugged on the pack. "So much for the milk of human kindness."

Oz raised one eyebrow. "There's milking going on."


"What?" Giles dropped the stack of books on the counter and stared at the Slayer, an expression of mingled disbelief and bemusement on his face.

"I'll say it again, and I'll go slower." Buffy cleared her throat. "There… were… vampires… at… the… hospital…"

"Oh, do stop that. It's not funny." Bemusement was replaced by annoyance.

Buffy gave him a deadpan look. "There were vampires at the hospital, from both gangs. I killed some, they killed each other, I thought it was done, but there was an attack at St. Michael's. I got there after it was over, so I mingled with the crowd and listened to the police and EMTs."

Giles pulled a face. "That was quick thinking."

"Don't sound so surprised." Buffy gave him the stinkeye. "Anyway, it was supposedly some sort of gang, maybe drugs were involved– Drugs are always involved when there are dead teenagers," the Slayer said in response to her Watcher's raised eyebrow. "The usual explanation for a Sunnydale Saturday night."

"Last night was Monday."

"Giles, don't be so literal. The 'gang'-" Buffy offered actual finger quotes "-left in a white van." She tapped an index finger on the counter. "Some of the vamps who got away at the hospital were in a white van."

Giles frowned. "Do you think it was the same group?"

Buffy shook her head. "No way, there wasn't enough time, but I am wondering… were they coordinated?"

"Oh dear," Giles said, fingering the knot in his tie. "That would be worrisome."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "That's one word for it."