Everyone around the table froze, then Matti said, "Cordelia, what do you want?"

The brunette cast a suspicious eye on the assembled crew. "You weren't in your office or the gym, so I thought you might be down here, but I didn't know it was the full dweeb convention." Her lip curled. "I'll be in the car." She spun around.

"Cordelia." Matti rolled her eyes. "We might be here for a while. You can't wait in the car. It's too hot."

"Please. It's a figure of speech. I'm not like a puppy at the mall."

"Oh, no," Willow moaned. "Puppies locked in cars at the mall."

"It's okay," Xander said. "Deep breaths. It's not real."

"Yeah, why would I want out of here?" Cordelia deadpanned.

Buffy caught Giles's eye and gave him a sharp look and a microscopic jerk of her head toward Cordelia. The librarian's brow furrowed. The Slayer responded with the tiniest of nods.

"Y-Yes, Cordelia, why… why don't you stay?" he stammered. "We, uh, we might have… need of your… specialized knowledge. I, uh, I don't believe any of us at the table are very familiar with the, uh, ritual of the promenade."

Buffy's eyes bugged. "Overdo, much?" she hissed.

Cordelia bit her lip. "Is prom mixed up in all this Seal stuff?"

"M-Maybe," Willow said.

"You would be in over your head, that's true." She scowled. "I'll stay." She went behind the counter and hopped up on Giles's chair. "But I'm sitting over here."

The Watcher opened his mouth, then closed it abruptly in response to another steely glance from the Slayer.

"So," Matti said, "prom could qualify as this… heightening event?"

"Very possibly," Roland replied. "While this could be different, in most situations it makes no difference. Natural phenomenon, human ritual, intrinsic to the event, extrinsic, as long as the source is there, it can be used."

"What's eccentric energy?" Xander asked.

"'Not eccentric, extrinsic'." Willow patted his arm. "It means, like, coming from the outside."

"So… what if prom got canceled?" Buffy asked.

"Why would it be canceled?" Giles asked, then pulled back from the stares turned in his direction. "What?"

"Jen Richmond? Michelle Michaels?" Matti said.

"Are those the girls Buffy was talking about?" Giles asked.

Stefan pitched in. "Yes, the two candidates for Homecoming Queen who got EMTed out of here."

Roland shrugged. "It might limit the power."

"No, it won't." The Canadian Watcher turned. Cordelia's elbows rested on the countertop, her chin supported by her cupped hands. "I really have no idea what's going on here and, frankly, I don't care, but you said it didn't matter what kind of energy it was, as long as there was a lot of it, right?"

Roland nodded. "Yes."

Cordelia sighed and sat up. "Well, if you want to blow the top off this place, cancel prom. Do you have any idea how much time and planning have gone into prom? How much money?"

Giles looked befuddled. "I'm sure the school–"

"I don't mean the school. Please." Cordelia held up a hand and ticked off her points. "The amount of money girls in this school have spent on acrylic nails. Limo rentals. Flowers. Hair stylists. Shoes. That's before you even mention dresses." The Slayerettes exchanged significant looks. "Cancel prom and you'd experience so much energy it'll singe your hair."

The adults shared a moment of confused silence, then Stefan Warner leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "She's right… if you're right about the psychic power surge."

Roland shrugged. "It's feasible."

"So, we're against canceling prom?" Stefan looked around the table. "I'm trying to figure out where we're at here."

"What if the attacks are part of it?" Everyone turned to look at Buffy. "If it's all about bringing the ruckus, wouldn't something that put everyone on edge work just fine?"

"You think the Mayor is behind this? Or Mr. Trick?" Matti looked unconvinced. "How would they do that?"

"They don't have to," Buffy replied. "They just have to take advantage of it."

"And whoever's doing it doesn't have to be helping them. It could be..." Xander groped for words.

"Fortuitous serendipity." Willow said.

"Yeah, I guess, maybe," Xander said.

"You're bluffing, aren't you?" Oz asked.

"Yeah," Xander replied.

"Then, do you have any idea who could be the responsible party?" Giles asked.

Buffy turned slowly to look over her shoulder at the brunette. "I know one person... who's still in the running."

"You mean Harmony?" Cordelia made a sour face and shook her head. "She's not capable of it. I mean, she's capable, but she's not capable, you know?"

Giles looked confused. Roland leaned toward him. "Denotation versus connotation, my friend."

"Sure, Harmony's mean enough to do it, but she doesn't have the patience or planning skills to pull it off." Cordelia shrugged and tilted her head. "Sure, she might push somebody off the walkway, but she'd do it on impulse in broad daylight. She wouldn't hide in a janitor's closet. I mean, first, she's not smart enough to come up with the plan, or patient enough to wait, and, come on, Harmony hiding in the middle of a room full of cleaning products?"

Roland tapped his paper against the table. "So we have no idea who the perpetrator might be."

Cordelia scoffed. "The supernatural brain trust here in this room, and it hasn't occurred to anyone?"

"What hasn't occurred to anyone?" Buffy snapped, annoyed.

"It's a ghost." The cheerleader leaned over the counter and looked around the table as her statement sank in. "Think about it. Both attacks mention a girl with long dark hair, but there was no one saw anyone leave the janitor's closet, and there's only one way out of there, and I don't think anyone had time to push Jen over, then get down the stairs and vanish, unless they really vanished. There was no one in the bathroom except Michelle when I went in, so where did whoever did it go? Come on!" Cordelia placed both hands flat on the countertop and pushed herself up slightly. "It's not like it's a stretch for any of us to believe in ghosts. Hasn't anyone else seen Ringu?"

"When did you see Ringu?" Willow asked. Both Xander and Cordelia suddenly found the surface in front of them extremely interesting.

"The roller skates." Oz stared cryptically into the middle distance.

"What?" Buffy asked.

"You said Michelle said something about roller skates. What if it wasn't the concussion talking? What if she was describing the way the girl moved?"

"Hold your horses there, slim." Stefan held up his hand, elbow resting on the table. "A ghost beat the sh– crap out of these two girls?"

Willow's lips pursed. "Could Harmony be controlling a ghost?"

"No." Cordelia's voice vibrated with finality. "Trust me, that's way beyond her. The best she could do is get someone like Amy to do it for her… and then the person would have to put up with Harmony. It's more likely they'd turn the ghost on her."

"Rupert," said Roland, "I fear we have lost control of this meeting."

"Are we working on the assumption that the Mayor is using a ghost to… what?"

"Amp up the psychedelic energy," Buffy said. "You've got the usual angst over prom, then the possibility that it might be canceled, then the anxiety from two queen candidates ending up in the hospital… I can't think of a better way to get teenagers wound up."

Willow nodded. "It's fever pitch."

"Why are we going around and around about prom?" Xander asked. "Let's try the direct approach… stop them from doing the magic thing."

"The spell?" Willow asked.

Xander's head dipped. "That would be a magic thing."

"I like it," Buffy said. "Hit first, apologize later."

"Apologize to who?" Willow looked quizzical.

"Whom," Oz said and was rewarded with a dagger-like stare.

The Slayer shrugged. "The people who own the stuff. That gets broken. Stuff will get broken."

"All right." Giles stood up. "This has gone quite far enough. We have managed, in the course of ten minutes, to move from the fact that there may be, and let me stress, may be, a ritual that must be performed in order to use the Seal to planning some sort of impromptu commando raid to accomplish… what? Are the…" The Watcher scanned the students' faces; his gaze passed quickly over Cordelia. "...the four of you going to infiltrate the CRT complex? Hmm?" He looked around the table. "Let us, please, think strategically." He looked at Buffy. "Is the Seal in Sunnydale? If so, where? Does the spell exist? If so, has the Mayor or, more likely, Mr. Trick, obtained it? Where is either the Seal or the spell being kept? Do you want to seize the Seal, or the spell? Which one has the higher value?" He looked around again. Xander and Willow looked down at the floor, and Oz appeared unperturbed. "We have moved far, far beyond our original purpose."

"You certainly took the fun out of that," Buffy grumbled.

Giles exhaled and tapped the table. "I see now how your last foray into investigation went so far awry."

Buffy looked at Matti and wrinkled her nose. "Snitch."

Matti shook her head. "Snitch, no. Gossip, yes."

"Ha!" Cordelia exclaimed.

"Wait a minute." Wide-eyed, Willow turned to Giles. "The guy Angel told us about, the professor at UCS… Buffy and I looked him up. He's a professor of Middle Eastern studies, but he teaches literature classes, too." She raised her hands as the rest of the group digested the information. Giles shook his head.

"Angel said that the Mayor's henchman had visited him." The Watcher rubbed his forehead. "With everything else going on, I'd quite forgotten. Forgive me."

"Well," Stefan said, "we may not know if this spell is real, but it seems like the bad guys believe it is."

Roland steepled his fingers. "I would say that this moves us solidly in the direction of 'it exists'."

"It gives us an edge, too." Everyone's eyes turned toward Matti. "We've got a fixed point now. Instead of guessing if the spell exists or when it's found, we watch this guy. If he shows up at City Hall or CRT, boom, it's here. Then we act."

"Isn't that a little late?" Buffy asked. "Like deciding to wear your jeans backward in 1994?"

"Well, I'm sure that's an allusion to some sort of uniquely American cultural touchstone." Giles adjusted his glasses. "But to address what I assume is your underlying point, I don't think anyone who had any idea what they were doing would simply walk in and try to perform a spell this powerful without first studying its particular qualities. To do so would risk a mistake of disastrous proportions. It would be… it would be something like asking Xander to defuse an atomic bomb." He ignored the delighted sound from the direction of the circulation counter. "The chance of a fatal error far outweighs the chance of success."

"Hey, I watched The Peacemaker." Xander tried to rally to his own defense.

"Yeah, you really resemble George Clooney." Cordelia launched her verbal javelin.

"Well, I think that we can safely assume that this meeting is over." Giles removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Buffy held up a hand. "Uh, one thing… just in case this does have something to do with prom, shouldn't we try to figure out who is going after the queen candidates?"

"Surely the police–"

"Giles if it is a ghost… or any kind of oogie-boogie, the police won't be able to figure it out."

The Watcher sighed. "I am hesitant to agree to that, given the results of your last attempt at playing Miss Marple."

Buffy nodded. "I'm guessing that's some sort of old-person reference, but I get the bigger meaning. How about we split the diff? You guys–" she pointed at Giles and Roland "- keep doing the bookwork and we'll look into the assaults. It'll be kinda like Law and Order." She held up a hand. "And before we do anything, we'll… " The Slayer looked around; her eyes settled on Stefan "...we'll run it by him."

Giles blinked and looked at the history teacher. "Mr. Warner? How do you feel about this?"

Stefan opened his mouth and closed it. "Sure," he finally said, "I'll take my turn in the barrel." Gerard Roland laughed as the Scoobies stared blankly at each other.

"Then I am going to end this meeting before anything else erupts. Thank you for being here." Giles scooped up his books. Everyone else stood up; Cordelia had already bolted from the room.

Matti nodded and walked around the table. As she passed by Giles, she leaned in slightly and spoke in a low voice. "See what I mean? She listens to you." The Knight took three long strides and pushed through the still-swinging door.

"Buffy," Willow said as the group dispersed, "why did you pick Mr. Warner?"

The Slayer leaned close to her friend. "Because I have a plan, and I think Ms. Hollis might not like it."


Suarez cruised along Boulder Highway, slowly, but not too slowly, getting a feel for the area. The Sunset was a single-story cinder block building, painted white with orange doors, roof, and trim. Open lots, prepped for construction, lay across the streets/alleys to the north and west of the structure. A low block wall, less than knee high, ran along the front. Suarez turned right onto a barely-paved 'avenue', then swung right onto the patchy asphalt of the alley running behind the Sunset. A chain-link fence, six feet high and topped with barbed wire, ran along the entire length of the alley.

Suarez saw the immediate weakness in the scene: if Snow White got around the north side of the building, she could cross two large open lots with no obstacles and vault the concrete-block wall into a residential area, and there was no way he was going to chase her on foot through the streets and cul-de-sacs. If she could clear the fence and barbed wire behind the Sunset, then she was Wonder Woman and none of them wanted to tangle with her anyway. The north side was the vulnerable spot.


"I need to make a stop before we go home," Matti said. Cordelia slumped in the passenger seat, her sunglasses turned to the window. She remained in that posture until the 4Runner pulled into the parking lot of April Fool.

"What are we doing here?" she asked, sitting bolt upright.

"I'm trying on a dress," Matti answered. "I'm a chaperone at prom."

"You have to do it tonight?"

Matti pulled the keys out of the ignition and looked at the girl. "Child, I had to call to make sure they had a formal in my size, and it's going to take a fair amount of altering to make it fit, so, yeah, it's today. Come on."

Cordelia scowled, but she got out of the vehicle and followed Matti into the store. The interior was dim and cool; a few customers drifted through the space, but they were obviously not prom customers. A sales associate, a woman in her thirties with artful blonde hair, swept toward them. She was of above-average height, but Matti towered over her.

"Ah," she said, "you must be the lady who called earlier looking for a very specific dress."

"That would be me," Matti replied.

"Well, my name is Lynda, and we have selected a few options in the size you mentioned. If you'll come with me." She made a beckoning gesture as she headed toward the back of the store. Matti started to follow, but Cordelia remained rooted to the floor.

"Come on," the teacher said.

"Why?" the brunette asked.

Matti raised her hands, palms up. "I could use another pair of eyes." She bent down to near Cordelia's eye level. "Please?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes and heaved a weary sigh, but she followed. Four dresses were draped across a sofa facing a tailor's mirror. A tiny woman of indeterminate age stood beside the mirror, a cushion full of pins on an elastic band around her wrist and a tape measure draped around her neck. A string of curtained changing areas lined the back wall.

Matti perused the garments. "Well, that one's out," she said. "I don't do strapless." She walked behind the sofa and looked some more. "Let's try this one," she said, picking up a red taffeta and disappearing into the changing room. Cordelia looked around, her mouth set in a bitter moue. It was several minutes later when Matti stepped out.

Cordelia blinked. The dress was scarlet with a high halter neckline and a midi hem that struck the teacher a few inches above the ankle. Matti's shoulders looked wide enough to land a jet. The seamstress unslung her tape measure.

"Well, that style is certainly flattering. Those arms and shoulders deserve to be highlighted." Lynda walked around as the seamstress measured. "That length is so perfect for your height. It's a very good fit, but I think we'll be taking in the hips a bit." She smiled. "We are the only shop in town where you could find something of this quality."

"And I appreciate it," Matti said. "I've been a beanpole since I was a kid."

"Well, you may have been a beanpole then, but you certainly aren't now." The measurements and flattery continued for some moments, then, the seamstress satisfied, Matti changed back into her clothes and handed the dress to the small woman, who took it away to the back of the store.

"Now," Matti said, "about the other…"

"Yes," Lynda said, "wait right here." She hurried away.

Cordelia sighed. A year ago, the pilgrimage to April Fool had been a grand day out; now, it was just another reminder of the Potemkin village that had been her former life.

Lynda returned. "Here," she said, spreading a half-dozen dresses on the sofa and stepping back.

Cordelia could not hide her irritation. "How long will this take? I thought you already picked out a dress."

Matti tipped her head toward the girl. "Girl, those dresses wouldn't fit my left leg."

"Then why are we looking at them?"

"Because there's no prom dress in your closet."

Cordelia bowed her head to hide the flush of anger. "That's mean."

"Just try one on." Matti set her jaw. "I mean it."

Cordelia looked at the dresses splayed across the brocade upholstery. There was one, square-necked, purple, but toward the lavender end of the spectrum. She reached out, touched the fabric, felt the smooth satin finish. She picked it up and went into the dressing room.

"Do you need shoes?" Lynda said to Matti. The teacher nodded and gave the saleslady her size. Lynda walked briskly away.

Cordelia stepped out of the dressing room and stared at her reflection. There she was, Queen C, the ruler of Sunnydale High, restored to her rightful place.

Lynda returned, shoe boxes in hand. She placed them on the floor and looked at the girl. "That looks lovely," the saleslady said. She reached toward Cordelia's waist. "We might take in a bit here. Your waist is so narrow, might as well showcase it."

"It is beautiful," Matti conceded.

"Th-Thank you," Cordelia stammered. "Could you give us a minute just to look at it?"

"Certainly. I'll be over here if you need me." Lynda smiled and left them.

"It really is a pretty dress," Matti said.

Cordelia set her jaw. "I can't afford it."

Matti pursed her lips. "That must be the hardest thing you've ever had to say."

Cordelia turned back to the mirror. "I probably deserved that."

"It wasn't a dis. But how are you going to prom if you don't have a dress?"

The girl looked at her reflection; it was like stepping back in time, to a period when she was happy– She shook her head. Not happy; in denial. "I wasn't planning on going."

"You are now. You deserve a prom. Don't worry about it. This one's mine."

Cordelia looked at Matti's reflection. "You can't do that."

"Child, I'm a grown-up. I can do what I want."

"My life may suck," Cordelia said, "but I don't need pity."

Matti sighed. "Cordelia, I was almost as tall as I am now when I was fourteen years old. I was as skinny as a rail. I wanted to go to a school dance when I was in eighth grade. Ever try to find a formal for a girl who's six-one and maybe a hundred-twenty pounds? It's not a big market segment.

"My granny made me a dress. I was mortified, but my mama insisted I wear it. I hated it." She leaned toward the girl. "Now I know that was one of the most special things anyone could do for me, my granny, with her own two hands, making a dress for her scarecrow of a granddaughter. Sometimes, you have to accept that people love you and let them do for you."

Cordelia blinked. She looked in the mirror and, for a heartbeat, felt normal again. "All right," she murmured. "Be stupid with your money, I won't stop you."

The seamstress appeared and brandished her tape measure. "Step up on the block, please."