CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

A Lovely Vision

"Well, the front door isn't looking like a viable option," Connor announced as Dana pulled the car to the curb and braked to a stop.

As they peered through the windshield, there were no obvious indications that some cataclysmically evil event was about to unfold in their midst … if anything, it was a remarkably clear and warm day considering they were well into November. The grass of the lawns and the branches of the hedges were neatly trimmed, the tall aluminum poles jutting from the front of the cluster of white buildings bore the appropriate flags, and the gleaming dome of City Hall and the glittering glass of the clock tower towering above bore no obvious signs of an impending apocalypse. Connor glanced about and confirmed the lack of black-capped thunderclouds sizzling with lightning, volcanic geysers erupting from the Earth, or four riders on horseback ominously circling.

The only indication that anything out of the ordinary was occurring was the bristling crowd of onlookers, many of whom appeared to carry either microphones or video cameras, crowding the steps leading up to the three sets of large bronze double-doors that led into City Hall.

"I wonder why they're not letting the reporters in," Colleen said.

"Maybe the building is full?" Dana suggested as she narrowed her eyes and leaned forward to get a better view.

"The front door definitely ain't happening," Jess confirmed, "but I bet there's a back entrance."

Dana accelerated from the curb, drove past City Hall, then turned right into an unmarked driveway that led to a small parking lot behind the complex. She searched for a place to park amongst the rows of work trucks, bright green dumpsters, and maintenance equipment while everyone else checked for signs of security.

When Dana eyed an empty spot, she ignored the tow-away warnings and pulled into the space. Once the engine was off, everyone stepped out of the car. They checked to make sure their weapons were securely tucked away, slammed shut the doors, and as a group walked across the asphalt towards utilitarian metal doors set within the rear of the building.

"I've gotta say, I'm surprised you didn't bug us the entire car ride about turning around and waiting for Angel and B," Faith said to Connor as they neared the stone of City Hall. "I would have lost that bet."

"Yeah, well," Connor replied, "Angel and Buffy have their way of doing things, and it isn't necessarily the way I'd like to do things."

Though in this case, I'm on the fence.

"I like the way you do things," Colleen said as she reached out and grabbed Connor's hand for a moment.

Jess made a retching noise. "Good lord, can you guys knock it off? We're on our way to kill what, arguably, might be a human being, and the last thing I want to hear is you two making verbal goo-goo eyes at each other."

"It's not all bad," Dana said. "At least Connor's gotten Colleen out of our apartment. Four people for two bedrooms was ridiculous."
"You weren't the one stuck on the couch," Faith said with a rueful snort.

Could we talk about literally anything else?

"Guys, focus," Colleen whispered as they neared two police officers standing outside the maintenance doors. As Connor surveyed the black pistols in the cops' holsters, it occurred to him that Wilkins was just as likely to have guards armed with guns as opposed to swords and axes. The slayers at least were wearing leather jackets, he only had the long-sleeved sweater.

"Can we help you ladies?" one of the officers asked as they neared. He glanced at Connor and continued, "And sir?"

Connor watched Dana casually slip her hand into the pocket of her jacket, remove a small leather bag filled with lead fishing weights, and grasp the sap tightly in one fist.

"Maybe," Dana replied in a breathless whisper that Connor guessed was meant to sound airheaded and obnoxious, "do either of you know …"

Before she finished her sentence, Dana stepped close to the guard and struck him squarely on the chin with short, compact hook. He collapsed, and his partner was still blinking in shock at the sight when the slayer pivoted, torqued her shoulder back, and delivered an identical strike to the same location on the second guard's jaw.

Connor frowned as he glanced at the two insensate, prone forms. "You know, hitting someone hard enough to knock them out can cause serious brain damage."

Colleen groaned. "Connor, we've talked about this. It's okay to think creepy things like that, just don't say them out loud."

"But …" Connor spluttered as he gestured down at the unconscious police officers.

Dana and Jess stepped over the cops, swung open the doors, and entered City Hall.

The gleaming white marble of the corridor contrasted with the metal rolling carts, trays of tools, and wooden crates that lined the floor near the rear entrance of the building. Connor, his eyes alert for anything out of the ordinary, followed as the slayers marched down the hallway. As they continued forward, dark, wood-paneled doors began to appear on the sides of the corridor, and the fluorescent overhead lights gave way to copper sconces and chandeliers that emitted a pleasant amber glow. When they had proceeded far enough that they could see the cavernous front lobby, complete with stairwells, the three sets of bronze double-doors, and a row of uniformed police officers blocking the entrance to the building, they pressed against the wall and glanced at each other.

"Now what?" Connor asked.

Dana glanced around, then stepped away from the wall and stared at the dark wooden door against which she had been leaning. She tested the knob, found it locked, then put her shoulder against the door and flexed until a splintering crack resounded from within the wood of the doorjamb. Dana pushed the door open, and Connor glanced in both directions before following the four slayers into the smaller, wood-paneled hallway.

Dana swung the door shut.

"Anyone know where this leads?" Colleen asked as she gazed down the passage.

"We're near the front of the building, so I'm guessing this will take us to the assembly hall," Dana replied.

Faith reached with both hands behind her back. "If a mayor was about to be sworn in, it would probably be in the assembly hall, right?"

Dana nodded, but it was Jess who replied, "That's what I'm thinking."

Faith pulled a stake and a wide bladed dirk from the waistband of her jeans and held the weapons low in front of her.

Colleen blinked in surprise then asked, "You had those tucked into your pants?"

Faith frowned at Colleen, then replied, "I'm hoping you have something similar tucked away, because the moment Wilkins or his lackeys see us, the proverbial shit is going to hit the fan."

"Are we the shit or the fan in this scenario?" Connor muttered.

Dana glanced back at him. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," he quickly responded.

Connor slipped a set of brass knuckles onto the fingers of his left hand, then zipped open his sweater to reveal a polished steel kukri hanging from a sheath slung over his shoulder. Part machete, part hatchet, the recurved blade had appealed to Connor the moment he saw it sitting in Xander's weapon room. Colleen, either intentionally or subconsciously mirroring the classic image of a slayer, drew a glossy, cherry-red stake from within her coat, while Jess opted to brandish the wide, curved dagger she'd borrowed from Xander. Dana, meanwhile, gripped a thin blade that was more sword than dagger.

We're really going to go assassinate an elected official, aren't we?

As they proceeded forward, murmuring voices became audible, and by the time they'd reached a wide wooden door set in a tall marble wall, the voices had become loud enough that Connor could almost make out what was being said.

Jess tapped the door with her knife. "This the assembly hall?"

"Only one way to find out," was Dana's reply. She put her shoulder to the door, pressed against the push bar, and swung it open. In contrast to the dim yellow lighting of the hallway, the enormous, high ceiling room was brightly lit, and the five of them blinked as they stepped through the door.

After their eyes adjusted, they realized they were standing on a stage … in fact, it was the stage where Buffy had debated Richard Wilkins, if Connor wasn't mistaken, and below the stage the first five to six rows of seats were filled with well-dressed onlookers. Wilkins, attired in a neutral charcoal suit with a white shirt and a black tie, stood on the far side of the room. He didn't seem surprised to see them … in fact, he was staring at them with a satisfied expression on his face. On a podium in the middle of the stage sat a leatherbound book, and Connor guessed the title immediately.

"That's right," Wilkins said after he caught the direction of Connor's stare. "The word of god, the good book, the Holy Bible, all of that." He smiled benevolently at them. "It's what I just used for my swearing in." He stood upright and straightened his tie. "You are looking at the newest mayor of Moonridge … acting, of course."

"Not for long," Faith replied as the slayers fanned out across the stage. Connor found himself admiring the casual efficiency of their spacing … long years of fighting side by side had evidently given them plenty of practice in knowing how close they could stand without interfering with each other's swings.

A tremor of concern wiggled in the back of Connor's mind as Wilkins's smile intensified in the wake of Faith's threat. "Whatever do you mean?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Faith, you can't possibly intend to harm me, can you?"

Something isn't right.

With a growing sense of unease, Connor glanced down at the seated crowd. Everyone was watching the events unfolding on the stage, but nobody had raised a cry of alarm at the sight of five armed individuals in their midst, no one was frantically dialing 911, and as far as he could tell, none of the audience had stirred in their seats, at all.

What is going on here? Why isn't there any security?

"Colleen," he whispered. "There's something wrong."

"I know," Colleen whispered back. "That's why we're here, remember?" she gestured with her stake towards Wilkins.

Wilkins polished his nails against the lapel of his coat as he spoke, "I kind of thought you folks would have tried something like this long before now."

"And I kind of thought that once you'd been sworn in the gates of hell would open, or maybe some sort of enormous beastie would sprout from a volcano, or something," Faith retorted as she moved further to her left and stepped forward. "Instead, you're just standing here, like a jackass."

"Faith," Dana muttered. "I don't like this."

Connor's head snapped towards Dana.

Dana feels it, too. Nothing about this makes any sense.

"What are we waiting for?" Jess asked as she inched forward.

Richard Wilkins … the mayor … stopped burnishing his nails against his coat and resumed staring at Faith. "What are your intentions?" He gestured towards the five of them. "Faith was there when I informed Angel that I was represented by Wolfram & Hart, she accepted the terms of that truce, and all of you have benefited." His smile vanished. "You break that lawfully, and demonically, binding agreement, then by its terms all of your lives are forfeit." He gestured at them. "Think about what you're sacrificing if you try to kill me. His pale, dead blue eyes fixed on Faith as he gazed across the stage. "If you commit violence in violation of the truce, you are, of your own free will, accepting the consequences." His smile returned. "Make your choice."

Connor risked a glance to his right. Not a single seated audience member had moved or reacted in any way.

We need to leave … now.

"Dana," Connor said, "I think we …"

He never finished the sentence, as Jess narrowed her eyes, raised the dagger, and lunged towards Richard Wilkins.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as the moment crystallized in Connor's perception. He thrust Colleen to the side as Jess darted forward with a feline grace, her dagger reaching for Wilkins's throat. A tall, black-coated young man with reddish-blond hair exploded out of a front row seat, in one smooth movement vaulted the stage, and then swept a short, curved sword upwards in a slicing motion. Dana yelled a warning as she tried to reach out and grab Jess, while Faith, her eyes locked on Richard Wilkins, raised her dirk and took a step forward.

Looming in front of them all, Richard Wilkins was grinning, ear to ear, and his face bore a maddening expression of triumph.

Connor realized who had leapt from the front row an instant before the edge of Joshua's sword severed Jess's right arm at the elbow and then proceeded to slice a deep, crimson line from her neck to her temple. Jess fell to her knees, screamed, and blood spurted both from the ruined stump of her arm and from the wound on the side of her face and neck. Wilkins, who had been struck in the chest by Jess's violently amputated limb, glanced down in irritation at the red liquid coating his white shirt, then he nonchalantly stepped away from the blood pooling on the wooden floor of the stage.

Connor watched as Faith drew her hand back, then she whipped her arm forward and the dirk tumbled end over end from her grip. The point struck Richard Wilkins's chest and the blade sunk deep.

"I'm not sure if that last bit of attempted murder was actually necessary to trigger the penalty clause of the truce agreement," Wilkins said as he stare at the hilt protruding from his torso, "but it couldn't have hurt." He pulled the dirk free and let it drop to the floor. As far as Connor could tell, no blood coated the metal of the blade.

From what seemed like an immeasurably far distance, three hollow, booming knocks reverberated throughout the assembly hall. The knocks filled Connor with a sense of foreboding.

What was that?

"REMEMBER!" Wilkins roared as he stepped back. "That one," he pointed at Faith, "I need alive!" He pulled a small spray bottle out of his coat pocket. "You can kill the other four," he said as he sprayed a fine mist into his mouth.

Wilkins's form seemed to rotate within the space he occupied, and then he vanished.

Dana had removed her jacket, wrapped the leather around the stump of Jess's arm, and managed to shepherd the injured slayer to the back wall of the stage while blood puddled along their path.

The audience stood from their seats and threw off their jackets and coats to reveal armor, axes, swords, and weaponry of all types. Connor only had a few moments to ponder the disastrous nature of this development before dozens of demons, vampires, and interdimensional monsters rushed the stage. As the creatures surged forward, Connor retreated to the door they'd used to enter the Assembly Hall and tested the latch.

Locked?

He threw his entire weight against the door and was surprised when he barely budged whatever was holding the door closed.

They've locked this entrance with a brace of some sort … they were waiting for us.

Connor desperately looked for another exit, but by then Joshua and the rest of Wilkins's minions were on them. Joshua raised his sword to reveal the silver glint of chainmail beneath his black coat, then Connor dove to the side as Joshua slashed the blade in his direction. The demons swarmed over him, and as Connor rose to his feet he slashed wildly with the kukri in an attempt to fend them off.

Colleen sprang towards Joshua and thrust the point of her stake at his armpit, likely hoping to sink it deep enough to reach his heart. Joshua twisted away from the attack, grabbed Colleen by the throat, then slammed her against the marble wall. Colleen's skull cracked against the stone and the stake spun away from her hand.

Connor howled in anger, decapitated a lunging vampire with the kukri, then stumbled and nearly lost his footing when the tentacles of a slithering, vaguely cephalopodic demon entangled his legs.

Colleen's face turned purple as she clawed with both hands at the arm pinning her neck to the wall. Her feet wingbeat against the stone as she writhed against Joshua's grip, her forearms flexing and straining as she tried to pry his fingers free, but he ignored her efforts and continued squeezing her throat. At the back of the stage, Connor caught a glimpse of Dana and Faith spinning and whirling in an almost dance-like series of movements as they stabbed, sliced, and kicked away any attacker that approached.

They're too far away to help Colleen.

Colleen's eyes were bulging in their sockets and her efforts to break Joshua's stranglehold had grown feverishly desperate by the time Connor drew a long-barreled .357 from the waistband of his jeans and begun firing in Joshua's direction. The sounds of the gunshots were deafening and the muzzle blast blinding as three bullets in rapid succession struck the unsuspecting slaypire in the neck, shoulder, and torso. Joshua screamed, released his grip on Colleen's neck, and dove away. Connor watched as he rolled over the lip of the stage and vanished from view.

Connor pointed the barrel of the gun at the head at the head of a tentacled demon that had been trying to drag him off his feet, narrowed his eyes, then pulled the trigger. Green ichor splashed across the stage as the monster's head burst apart.

An enormous bruise had already begun to form around Colleen's throat as she retrieved her stake and stared in appreciation at Connor.

"I'm glad you brought the gun."

"No firearms was Buffy and Angel's thing, not mine," Connor replied as he pointed the gun at the demons massing at the edge of the stage and retreated towards where Faith and Dana were fighting. Both slayers were coated in blood, though it was difficult to tell how much, if any, was theirs. Jess, the stump of her arm cradled across her chest, sat on the ground next to a door set in the back wall of the stage. The blood continued to seep from the stump of her right arm and gush from the cut along her throat and head, but worryingly, the flow seemed to be slowing.

She's losing too much blood.

The vampires and demons had shaken off their initial reaction to the gunshots and massed upon the stage. Maws gaping with teeth growled, hissed, and spat at them, and clawed hands flexed rhythmically as the horde slowly drew closer.

Connor tested the door at the back of the stage, found it locked, and threw his shoulder against it. The impact did no more than jostle the wood … something on the other side was bracing this door closed as well. He whirled around, pointed the gun at a demon creeping along the ceiling, and fired twice. The winged creature, which was wearing dress slacks and polished loafers, screamed in pain, then fell upon the stage to join the growing pile of corpses.

The locked door prevented any further retreat, so they tightened their grips on their weapons, spread out, and struck out against any attacker in range. Vampires disintegrated into dust, demon limbs twitched on the floor, and Connor realized that slowly but surely they were being forced against the polished white marble of the stage's back wall. His long-sleeved shirt was cut and torn in a dozen places and Colleen's leather coat was a shredded ruin.

Dana, Connor would have readily admitted, fought like a woman possessed. Her hands never stopped moving as she sliced, stabbed, and carved at anything that came within ten yards of Jess's slumped form. Faith stayed close to Dana's side as she swung an axe she'd found at some point during the confrontation. Interestingly, while the demons fought with reckless abandon against everyone else, they seemed to be reluctant to clash with Faith.

They want Faith alive.

Connor blinked at the realization and was shocked it hadn't occurred to him before.

"Faith!" he howled. "They won't kill you, get in front!"

Faith, to her credit, immediately grasped his meaning. She maneuvered past Dana, interposed herself between the demons and the rest of them, and smiled at the horde. "If you want my friends, you'll have to kill me, and your boss won't like that."

The demons were taken aback by this new development. Two enormously tall, green-scaled demons with hollow sockets in place of eyes backed away a few steps and began hissing at each other. Connor took the opportunity to catch his breath, wipe blood from his mouth, and glance over at Colleen. She was gingerly running her hand over the bruise wrapping around her neck and wincing with pain as she did so.

Maybe we have a chance.

Then the ranks of the demons parted, and Joshua moved forward.

Connor blinked in shock as he stared at the slaypire. The wound on his neck had almost entirely healed … only a slight bruise remained where a magnum round had burrowed a hole through flesh. Of the shoulder and chest wound, there was no signs except for small, neat round holes in the chainmail.

"That hurt," Joshua said as he stared in anger at Connor. He pointed at Faith. "If she comes with us quietly, the rest of you can leave."

Dana reached out and grabbed Faith's arm. "Don't even think about it."

Faith glanced back at Dana with a quizzical expression. "Believe me, I wasn't."

Joshua grimaced and shook his head. "Fine."

He was tall, taller than Angel, and had to be closer to two-hundred and fifty pounds than two hundred, but Joshua's movements as he charged them were blindingly fast. A backhand smashed Connor against the stone and left him staggered and dazed, while a kick at Colleen as she raised her stake knocked her to the ground. Dana fared better, she ducked beneath a blow and landed a punch on Joshua's chin, but the impact barely fazed him. He grabbed Dana's coat, thrust her away, and she fell to the floor and slid across the wood.

"No," Jess said in a barely audible whisper as Dana smashed against the wall next to her.

Faith thrust her stake at Joshua's side, and he twisted away from the point, extended his arms, and wrapped her in a vicious bear hug. She kicked at his thighs and strained against his grip as he hoisted her off her feet.

Connor shook his head to clear the cobwebs, picked up the kukri from where he had dropped it, and smashed the edge into the forehead of an attacking demon. As the demon collapsed into a twitching heap, Connor rushed forward and raised the blade in preparation to bring it down on Joshua's arm.

Joshua released Faith, grabbed Connor's wrist, and wrenched the kukri from his grasp. He raised Connor's own weapon, slashed it downwards, and Connor narrowly avoided the swing by leaping backwards. Joshua raised the weapon again, advanced, and when Connor tried to retreat his back struck the wall.

When the blade came down, Connor raised his hands to try to catch Joshua's wrist as it descended.

His right hand did catch Joshua's wrist, which slowed the descent of the kukri, but his left hand missed the target and instead closed around the tip of the blade. The razor-sharp edge severed the ring and little fingers of his left hand, leaving behind stumps perhaps an inch in length. Connor suspected that if not for the brass knuckles he'd slipped on earlier, the damage would have been far worse.

Colleen and Faith both kicked Joshua at the same time, and as the slaypire was knocked off his feet, Connor spared a glance at the bloody ruin of his left hand.

I need to find out if I can still hold something.

"Oh, no," Colleen said in breathless horror as she watched Connor flex the stumps of his maimed fingers. He reached down, grabbed a mace that some demon had dropped, and swung it a few times to test the grip of his left hand on the hilt. Thankfully, his grasp still seemed firm enough, though he'd never play the guitar again, or wear a wedding band on the proper finger, or …

Worry about this later, assuming we somehow survive.

Joshua had regained his feet and was once again moving towards them. Faith's hurried breaths had turned into outright wheezing, and even Dana was showing signs of exhaustion as she slumped forward, hands on her knees, in an attempt to gain a few seconds of rest. Colleen's face was twisted in agony, likely from the throat injury, and Connor realized that he was beginning to feel light-headed.

The realization that the end was likely not far off felt strangely calming.

We're going to die.

Joshua had just tensed for another charge when the stone wall on the far side of the assembly hall exploded.

. . . . . . . . .

"You guys heard that, right?" the younger Buffy asked as Xander recklessly barreled his truck towards City Hall.

Willow nodded. "We heard it," she confirmed.

"What the hell was that?" Spike asked as he twisted a finger inside his ear. "Those

three bloody knocks felt like they were being gonged from inside my body."

"I doubt it was good, whatever it was," Xander muttered. "Things like that never are."

Teen Buffy watched in terror as Xander swerved the four-by-four truck across medians, onto sidewalks, between lanes, anywhere needed to keep the vehicle moving forward. It couldn't have been more than ten to fifteen minutes, but felt like hours, before the white dome of City Hall appeared in front of them. Spike pulled a shining silver dagger from beneath his leather coat, Buffy likewise pulled two stakes from holsters slung between her shoulder blades, and Willow reached into her jacket and pulled out a small pouch.

"Are you going to sprinkle some dust on the bad guys, think happy thoughts, and they'll all fly away?" Spike asked as she eyed Willow's pouch.

Willow turned to stare at Spike. "Not quite."

Xander pointed through the windshield. "Guys, am I imagining things, or are all the police leaving City Hall?"

Willow craned her neck forward, then frowned. "Your eyes are not deceiving you, it seems like everyone … police, media, and curious bystanders included … are getting the hell out of Dodge."

Buffy rolled down the window and stuck her head out to get a better view. Police cars and news vans were streaming out of the parking lot and pedestrians were walking on the sidewalk in every direction except towards City Hall.

"This is magic," Willow announced. "You see how they're driving and walking together, like they have one mind? Somebody doesn't want any witnesses and is clearing them out."

"Well, we don't necessarily want witnesses either," Buffy mused.

"Willow, if they're be-spelled, or be-whatevered, they won't care how I'm driving, right?" Xander asked.

"Nope," Willow confirmed.

Xander reached down, engaged all-wheel drive, and yanked the wheel to the right. A large, grassy hill separated them from the parking lot, and Buffy leaned back in her seat and held her breath as Xander accelerated towards it. The truck lurched on the slick grass, then the rear wheels dug into the dirt, churning up neatly manicured lawn as they did so, and propelled them up and over the crest of the hill. Once they'd reached the parking lot, Xander navigated through the rows of vehicles and parked in front of the steps that led up to the enormous bronze doors of city Hall.

"We're here," Xander announced as he grabbed a baseball bat that he'd stashed on the top of the dashboard. "Let's go see if anyone needs rescuing."

The four of them exited, began climbing the steps, and were immediately met by a few dozen men wearing suits.

Except those aren't men.

Well, maybe a few of them were men, but most of them were demons.

Spike raised his dagger, and the demons reached into long overcoats, pulled out weapons of their own, and proceeded to hiss and snort in a guttural language Buffy couldn't understand.

"Shall we?" Buffy announced as she raised her stake and took a step forward.

Willow grabbed her arm and shot her a look of admonishment. "Buffy, you guys brought me for a reason."

Willow flung the pouch into the air and granules of white rock sparkled in the air. She raised her hand, blew softly on her palm, and her eyes shimmered black for a moment. Buffy watched in awe as shining projectiles blazed an arc towards the assembled group of demons. Within an instant, the blazing-white bits of stone had shredded the bodies of the demons and sunk deep within the building beyond.

Spike blinked a few times in surprise as he surveyed the carnage in front of them. "Bloody hell, I'm glad you're on our side."

Willow smiled. "Glad to be of …" her face went pale as she staggered and struggled to regain her balance. Xander grabbed Willow's elbow while Buffy wrapped an arm around her waist.

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked.

"I … I don't know," Willow replied. Her face had gone chalky white, and something was wrong with her eyes … they rippled with shadow. Buffy heard a dripping sound, and she shifted her gaze downwards at the pavement between Willow's legs.

Oh my god.

"Willow!" Buffy hollered. "You're bleeding!"

Willow grunted in pain and forced herself upright. "I know," she said as she shook off Buffy and Xander's grip. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, and though she did glance down at the blood dripping from her jeans, she quickly looked away again.

"I'll be okay," she said in a hoarse, strained tone. "We need to get inside."

"Will, I don't think so," Xander said

Willow scowled at him, and anger darkened her features in such a way that Buffy found Willow's face near-recognizable

"I can manage," Willow growled. "Time to move."

Xander hesitated a moment, then nodded. He turned to Buffy and pointed at her. "Keep an eye on Willow."

Buffy nodded in agreement.

After they had trod up the stone steps, Buffy pulled open one of the massive bronze doors, then the four of them slipped inside.

Great. More demons.

The demons inside City Hall hadn't bothered with human clothing. Wings sprouted from yellow-haired backs, clawed, hairy limbs were in abundance, and, of course, inhuman eyes of every color stared at them above fangs of varying lengths. Behind the demons, on the far side of the lobby, Buffy's slayer-sensitive hearing detected the unmistakable howls, screams, and clanging sounds of a battle being waged behind the closed doors of the assembly hall.

Willow pulled another pouch from within her coat.

"No!" Xander said as he raised the baseball bat aloft. "We'll get this."

"There's too many," Willow informed Xander as she raised her hand. "It would take too long."

Buffy instinctively reached towards Willow. "Wait, we can maybe …"

Willow slammed the pouch downwards. For a moment, Buffy thought that whatever spell she was attempting hadn't worked, then shadowed fissures spread along the marble floors and walls and began to stretch for the demons. When the shadows reached the demons, Buffy had to turn away from the horrific sight of their deaths. She found herself at a loss for words as she tried not to retch, and she found herself wondering if therapy might keep what she had just seen from haunting her dreams for years to come.

"Holy shit, Will," Xander said in breathless awe. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Do it again," was Spike's contribution to the moment.

Willow slumped against a railing and rivulets of blood trickled from the legs of her jeans to splash against the stone of the floor.

"Enough!" Buffy howled. "Willow, go back to the car!"

Willow shook her head and forced herself upright. She turned towards the wall on the far side of the lobby, raised a hand, muttered a sound that didn't seem like it could possibly emanate from a human throat, and clenched her hand into a fist.

The center of the wall exploded. White dust showered them, marble chunks flew in every direction, and a large room filled with rows of seats and a large wooden stage appeared in the gap Willow had created. On the stage, dozens of demons surrounded a small group of figures huddled against the far wall.

Willow's gait was unsteady as she limped forward. "Let's go."

The demons, obviously shocked by the recent developments, hesitantly stepped towards the front of the stage. Xander and Spike, holding their weapons at the ready, moved forward, while Buffy stepped away from Xander and stared with worry at Willow. Every step Willow took left behind a bloody footprint, her eyes were still colored that ominous black, and her skin had grown paler.

A figure leapt off the stage and rushed towards them in a low crouch. Buffy considered the charge to be suicidal until she recognized the red-blond hair and black coat.

Joshua.

"Joshua," Spike growled. "Willow, if you've got any more bags of tricks in that coat, now would be the time."

Willow reached into a pocket yet again, and the lines of Buffy's face were etched with concern as Willow extracted a length of chain.

Chain?

Willow's hand deftly manipulated the links in some odd manner that Buffy couldn't follow, then her palm shot forward. The chain twisted and twined through the air, growing in size the entire time, until it had divided into four glowing, white-gold sections. The chain wrapped around Joshua, entwined his limbs, and suspended him in mid-air with his arms and legs outstretched. He roared and screamed as he fought against the bindings, but the chains twisted tight and pulled him taut.

"I can't hold him," Willow whispered as she stumbled forward, planted an arm on the backrest of a seat, and splayed claw-like fingers towards Joshua. Sweat was pouring down her face, her red-gray hair seemed to have grown more gray in the last few minutes, and her hand spasmed and quivered in rhythm with Joshua's flailing attempts to free himself.

"Meaning what?" Buffy asked.

Willow stared at her with unsettling black eyes. "Meaning, kill him!"

"You don't have to tell me twice," Spike growled as he sheathed his dagger, pulled a stake from somewhere in his coat, and rushed forward.

When Joshua changed it was somehow more unsettling, more disturbing than any vampiric transformation Buffy had seen in her years of slaying. Something within his flesh seemed to fight against the metamorphosis, some thing that fought to retain his humanity, and the result was a rippling, tearing effect … as if two faces battled for control.

The demon won, and feral yellow eyes blazed at them as distended jaws bristling with fangs snapped at the air. Joshua strained and flexed against the magical fetters, cracks began to appear in the white-gold of the links, and Buffy didn't think it was her imagination that the grip of the chains had loosened. Willow's outstretched hand began to droop from the strain of holding the spell just as Spike reached Joshua.

When Joshua broke the chain wrapped around his right arm, the links vanished as though they had never been, and Willow moaned in pain. Joshua reached out with his right hand and caught Spike's wrist as the stake descended. Spike dropped the stake, grabbed the hilt with his left hand, and thrust it at Joshua.

The chains holding Joshua's left arm in place shattered, Willow yelped in agony, fell to her knees, and Joshua grabbed Spike's other wrist and strained against the chains still wrapped around his legs. Many of the demons on the stage had climbed down and were steadily advancing on them from all sides.

"We don't have much time," Willow whispered, her voice hoarse from the strain of whatever spell she had just cast. "He's about to break free."

Joshua snapped the chains off his legs, fell to the floor, and Buffy felt a knee-buckling surge of fear when she realized that Joshua was still grasping Spike's wrists.

Bits of charred flesh and splinters of burnt wood showered the air as Xander's baseball bat, which was entirely aflame, caught Joshua flush along the temple. The slaypire screamed in pain, shoved Spike away, then grabbed the bat. Xander tightened his grip, growled, and beneath the flak jacket, the left side of his body erupted in flame. As the fire curled along his arm, Joshua released the bat, scurried away, and howled in pain.

At least fire hurts him.

Willow's eyes rolled back in her head and her body slumped to the side as she lost consciousness. Buffy caught Willow before she struck the ground, then she hooked her hands beneath Willow's armpits and began to drag her away from the fighting.

There's too many demons in the way.

Buffy was just about to reluctantly drop Willow and join the battle when Faith and Connor burst into view. They swept through the demons, hacking and slashing with a variety of weapons, and cleared a path. Behind them, Dana and Colleen carried an unconscious Jess … who was missing an arm. Demons swarmed, and across the room, Joshua fixed them with a baleful look as he walked towards them. Wisps of smoke rose from the sleeve of his still-smoldering coat.

"Thank you," Connor shouted as he thrust his stake into the chest of a vampire and blinked away the resulting cloud of dust. "Things weren't looking good."

"Things still aren't looking good!" Spike yelled as he sunk his dagger into the eye of a long-snouted, yellow-furred demon. Buffy found herself dragging Willow out of the assembly hall side by side with Colleen and Dana as they carried Jess. Faith hacked wildly with an axe at a slithering, tentacled monstrosity as she covered their retreat.

Joshua grabbed Xander by the lapels of the flak jacket, ignored the flaming bat being smashed against his neck and shoulder, pivoted, and flung Xander over their heads, through the gaping, dust-filled hole Willow had blown in the stone wall. Buffy kept a worried eye on Xander until she saw him sit up, shake his head a few times, and climb to his feet.

"Run!" Faith screamed.

Everyone shook themselves loose of whatever demons or vampires clutched at them and rushed towards the bronze doors. Buffy flung Willow over a shoulder, prayed she wasn't hurting her with the jostling, and the dome loomed over her head as she ran towards the exit.

The roars and howls of the demons following behind seemed to grow louder every instant.

The sunlight was blinding when Connor and Spike flung open the bronze doors and scrambled outside. Dana and Colleen maneuvered Jess through the entryway, Buffy carried Willow outside, and Xander backed through the door and drew his revolver and water gun from their holsters. He waited until Faith had run through the opening, then he began firing the revolver and squirting holy water.

The parked truck seemed miles away as they hurried towards it.

The gunshots and holy water Xander directed at the open door seemed to have the desired effect, as screams of pain filled the air and the demons retreated from the door. When the revolver had run out of ammunition, Xander flung it aside, pulled an ugly black pistol from a holster at the back of the jacket, and continued firing as he backed towards the parking lot.

Immediately after flinging the truck's rear door open, Dana pulled Jess sideways onto her lap, slid to the center of the truck's rear seat, and screamed for everyone to get inside. Faith and Colleen climbed in on either side of Dana while Spike and Connor jumped into the open bed of the pickup. Buffy slid the still unconscious Willow into the front seat, buckled her seatbelt, and after she'd slammed the passenger door closed, she climbed into the pick-up bed and joined Spike and Connor.

"Let's go!" Spike yelled at Xander as he repeatedly slammed his hand against the roof of the truck.

Xander tossed the black gun and super soaker aside and reached once more towards the back of his flak jacket.

Is that a grenade?

Xander pulled the pin, tossed the grenade towards the open bronze door, and sprinted to the truck. He put his hand on the hood as if he intended to slide across, then thought better of it and ran around the front. The grenade exploded with a deafening blast just as Xander opened the driver's door.

Buffy ducked down below the side panel until she could no longer hear the sound of debris smashing into the ground. When she raised her head and peered towards City Hall, she saw that one of the previously open bronze double doors hung by a single deformed hinge while the other had been blown free entirely. A few twitching limbs could be seen protruding from beneath the crumpled metal.

When the truck engine rumbled to life, Buffy felt her heart surge with relief.

We're going to make it.

Joshua marched through the ruined door. Buffy waited for him to burst into flames, it's what happened to vampires when exposed to sunlight, but he merely stared at them with his sulfurous, blazing-yellow eyes and began to run.

Xander floored the truck, jumped the curb of the parking lot, and turned towards the street.

Joshua, black coat outstretched like the wings of some monstrous bird, leapt towards them. He sailed through the air, landed in the back of the truck, and grasped the edge of the side panel to steady himself. Buffy watched as the metal crumpled beneath the pressure of his grip. Joshua growled in fury while demons rushed out of City Hall and began racing down the street after them.

The flesh of Joshua's face was melting into rivulets of ruined tissue as the sunlight bore down, but the pain didn't appear to affect him. He pounced on Buffy, pinned her to the bed of the pick-up, and his fangs opened wide as he lowered his jaws. Buffy grabbed Joshua's throat and strained to keep the teeth from her neck, but he forced his head downwards until she could feel the heat of his breath on her face.

He's too strong.

Then Connor and Spike were there, and they each grabbed one of Joshua's arms and pulled him away. The three of them fell backwards into the bed of the truck, and Joshua snapped, snarled, and struggled to free himself from their grasp and regain his feet. As Connor grasped at Joshua's arm, Buffy realized that bloody stumps, instead of fingers, protruded from one of Connor's hands.

Oh, no.

Standing upright while the truck was careening all over the road proved to be impossible, so Buffy scrambled forward on all four limbs and grabbed at Joshua's legs. He growled at her, then pulled back one booted foot and slammed it into her chest. She tried to grab the truck as she was flung backwards, but the side panel was too far away, and an instant later the black asphalt of the roadway slammed into her. She rolled a few times and eventually came to rest in an agonized sprawl. She gasped breath back into her lungs, rose to one elbow and confirmed that Xander's truck was already too far away to catch. For a moment, she considered simply putting her head down and passing out.

Then she heard the clawed footfalls and alien chittering of the approaching demons.

She glanced around for her stake, spotted it a few feet away, and unsteadily rose to her feet. She bent over, retrieved the weapon, then stepped onto the curb and kept walking until she could put her back against the steep hill that lined the parking lot. She eyed the approaching horde … there had to be at least thirty demons stalking towards her.

Well … I had a good run.

When Spike stepped next to her and raised his knife aloft she blinked in shock.

"What are you doing here?" she spluttered.

Spike stared at her in surprise. "What do you bloody think I'm doing here?"

"Did Joshua knock you out of the truck, too?" she asked as they both stared in grim determination at the slowly approaching demons.

Spike stiffened, and when he hesitated before answering, she knew him well enough to guess that he was deciding whether or not to lie to her.

Please tell me the truth, Spike. We've only been together a little over three months, and I'm sorting through all sorts of big, new feelings, and even though we'll probably be killed in the next few minutes, it's really important that I know you'll always be honest with me.

"I jumped out," Spike admitted. "I saw this lot on their way to you," he gestured at the approaching demons, "and I couldn't leave you out here by yourself." He glanced at her. "That's a lot of demons."

"I agree," Connor said as he startled them by jumping down from the top of the hill. Connor watched Xander's truck disappear into the distance, and when he turned to them, his eyes were wide with worry and fear.

He's scared for Colleen …

Buffy spared herself a moment to internally ooh at how sweet the notion was, then she refocused. "I'm hoping you didn't also jump out a moving vehicle as part of some half-assed rescue attempt?"

Connor shook his head, winced, then craned his head to the side so she could see the boot imprint on his jaw and neck. "I ended up on the street the same way you did."

Buffy spared a glance in the direction Xander and the others had been driving. "Was Joshua still in the truck when you got the heave ho?"

"Oh, yeah, he definitely was," Connor replied. "Maybe Willow will wake up?"

"We have our own problems," Spike interrupted as the demons began to fan out and form a half-circle around them.

"Anyone have a weapon I can borrow?" Connor asked.

Spike reached into his coat, pulled out a thin, curved dagger, and handed it to Connor. "Keep it."

"Thanks," Connor said.

Spike raised his own knife towards the demons. "No problem."

"Sorry about the fingers," Buffy said to Connor, "that looks painful."

"I'll live," Connor replied.

Spike laughed. "I doubt it."

. . . . . . . . .

When Joshua shattered the rear glass of the truck, reached a clawed hand into the cab, and grabbed Faith by the hair, Xander's response was to swerve off the road, smash through a series of wooden obstructions, and turn onto an unpaved access road that led to a construction site he vaguely remembered as being the future home of a shopping center.

"Get the fuck off me!" Faith screamed as she, Dana, and Colleen stabbed at Joshua's arm with a variety of stakes and daggers. One of the blows struck home, and Joshua yelped and released his grip.

With a series of frantic maneuvers, Xander wove the truck through piles of chain link fencing, wooden beams, and construction equipment. Joshua's arm had just snaked back into the cabin when Xander was forced to skid to a stop in front of a thirty-foot high concrete retaining wall. Willow, still unconscious, slumped forward against the seatbelt, and Dana tightened her grip on Jess to keep her from sliding away.

"Fuck!" Xander growled as he put the truck in reverse.

"Get us out of here!" Colleen yelled.

Faith howled as Joshua reached once again through the shattered window, wrapped his arm around her neck, and yanked her backwards. Dana and Colleen clutched at Faith's feet in a futile effort to keep her from sliding through the window, but within seconds she had been pulled out of the cabin and into the bed of the truck.

Colleen sat upright and stared through the back window. "He's jumped out the truck with Faith!"

"STOP!" Dana roared at Xander.

Xander obediently braked the truck to a halt. Dana set Jess down on the middle of the rear seat, then slid over to the door, opened it, and prepared to step out.

"Wait," Jess said as he reached with her left arm and grabbed the sleeve of Dana's shredded and bloody jacket. "Don't go."

Her voice was so faint and wavering that Xander could barely make out her words.

Dana leaned over, cradled Jess's head in her hands, and kissed her. After the kiss, she put her hands on Jess's shoulder and looked her in the eye as she spoke, "We've been on borrowed time from the beginning, you know that." She pressed her lips against Jess's forehead, then drew back. "I love you."

"Stay," Jess said as she pulled the stump of her arm tighter against her chest. "Don't leave me."

Dana held Jess close as she gazed at Xander. "That witch," she pointed at Willow, "is worth a couple dozen slayers. You get her and Jess to a hospital, do you understand?"

"You think I'm leaving you and Faith?" Xander shouted. "No fucking way." He moved to unbuckle his seatbelt.

Dana grabbed his shoulder and squeezed … hard … as she yanked him backwards. Xander could feel her other hand grasping at the side of his flak jacket, near his gun holsters.

"Ouch!" Xander protested.

Dana leaned over so she could whisper in his ear. "Jess and Willow need medical attention and Colleen doesn't have to be here. Faith and I have got this."

"Colleen is already out of the truck," Xander said as he gestured towards the empty seat on the opposite side of Jess.

Dana's eyes narrowed. "I'll get Colleen back in the truck, and the second that I do, you get everyone to a hospital, do you understand?" She clamped down even harder on Xander's shoulder, and he winced at the agony of her grip. "I know you have a hero complex thing, but I need you to drive, not fight. Got it?"

Xander finally nodded. "Fine, I got it."

Dana patted him on the shoulder, started to turn, then hesitated. "Tell Buffy she was right."

"You tell her yourself," Xander replied. "After you and Faith end that son of a bitch … and I mean that term literally."

Dana turned back to Jess and brushed some of the blood off of Jess's frightened face. Dana parted her lips, leaned forward, and kissed Jess again for a few seconds. "See you soon," she promised.

Then she stepped out of the truck and slammed the door shut.

. . . . . . . . .

After exiting the truck, Dana immediately spotted Faith near the retaining wall. She was pinned to the ground on her back, and Joshua crouched over her like some loathsome black spider. One of his knees was pressed against her chest, a hand was clamped over her mouth, and in his other hand he held a cellphone to his ear. At the sight of the two slayers, he slipped the cellphone back into the pocket of his coat.

When Faith saw Dana and Colleen standing outside the truck, she growled angrily, a sound that was muffled by the hand pressed against her lips, and she redoubled her efforts to wriggle free.

"I just want Faith," Joshua growled with the angry, ragged voice of a vampire. His yellow eyes flared at Dana and Colleen as he spoke, "Just leave … get out of Moonridge entirely. We won't look for you." He gazed down and watched as Faith gouged her fingernails into his wrist and shrieked into the strangling hand covering her mouth. Within the shadow of the retaining wall, the skin that had melted off Joshua's face had already begun to heal, and while he was covered in blood, no wounds were visible.

"Interesting offer," Dana informed him. "The thing is, leaving you alone here with Faith doesn't work for me."

"Your choice," Joshua snarled. "All of you broke the truce, so all of your lives are forfeit."

Colleen, stake at the ready, stepped closer to Dana. "How do you want to handle this?"

Dana reached into the pocket of her coat. When her fingers found the sap, she tightened her fingers around the lead-filled bag.

"Remember Atlanta?" Dana whispered to Colleen. "Or Prague … Prague was insane. That was a hell of a nest, wasn't it?"

Colleen's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Prague? Yeah, there had to be twenty-five vamps in that catacomb … Faith and you saved my life at least a dozen times that day." She glanced at Dana. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

Dana pulled her fist out of her jacket, took another step towards Colleen, then drew back her hand and pivoted. Colleen had just enough time to open her eyes wide in shock before Dana's sap-filled fist smashed with practiced precision against the point of her jaw. Colleen's eyes rolled back in her head, the stake dropped from her hand, and Dana caught her limp form as she fell. She dragged Colleen over to the truck, hoisted her aloft, then set her down in the truck bed.

"That I did not expect," Joshua called out.

Dana slapped the back of the pickup, screamed, "GO!" and breathed a sigh of relief when Xander sped down the access road they'd used to enter the construction site. Dana thought, but wasn't sure, that she'd spotted one last glimpse of Jess's red hair through the broken rear window before the truck vanished from sight.

She closed her eyes for a moment, forced every other thought from her mind, then turned back to Joshua. With grim determination, she reached down, unbuckled her belt, and slid it free from her pants. Joshua watched with curious fascination as she tightened the loop of the belt to a small circle, grasped it in her left wrist, then wrapped the belt down her forearm until she had created a leather gauntlet and vambrace. When she'd nearly run out of leather, she neatly tucked the end beneath one of the loops and tightened the strap until the bands were secure.

Faith's muffled screams had reached a fever pitch and it looked like she was trying to bite Joshua's hand.

"Brave," Joshua said to Dana with a gaze of admiration.

Dana pointed at Faith's struggling form. "Let her go."

Joshua's responsive fanged smile was hideous. "Or?"

Bullets slowed you down back in City Hall, so let's try that again.

Dana pulled out of her jacket pocket a snub-nosed revolver she'd purloined from one of the many holsters on Xander's jacket and pointed it at Joshua as she rushed towards him. His arrogant indifference to the possible threat she might pose vanished in an instant, a fact she found immensely satisfying, and he spun away from Faith and darted for the protection of a bulldozer parked nearby.

Dana fired repeatedly at the fleeing Joshua … one of the bullets may have hit him in the side, but she wasn't sure.

Faith scrambled to her feet and rushed over. "Are you crazy?" she screamed. "He only wanted me!"

Dana shrugged. "I owe you … everything … there's no chance I'd leave you here by yourself." She smiled at a memory. "It's funny that you're asking if I'm crazy … Faith, you were the only one for a very long time who thought that I wasn't crazy."

Faith grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "Dana, I've changed my mind, you are crazy. Get the fuck out of here!"

Dana patted Faith on the arm. "How about we go kill him, instead?" She reached down, grabbed the stake that Colleen had dropped, and offered it to Faith.

Faith shook her head and scowled, but she did take the weapon.

Joshua stepped out from behind the bulldozer. Blood trickled from a fresh wound at his side, but his gait seemed unaffected as with an unnerving silence he began striding towards them. Dana could have sworn that Joshua dodged the shot from her gun while the bullet was in the air, but it was probably her imagination. He leaned to the side to avoid the next bullet, her last round, then he dove towards them.

Faith rolled away, but Dana stood, waited, and when his jaws were within arms-reach she jammed her belt-covered left forearm into Joshua's jaw, between his teeth, wrapped her right arm around his head, and allowed his momentum to slam them both into the ground. When her back hit the dirt, the wind was knocked from her lungs in a wheezing gasp, but she managed to wrap her legs around Joshua's waist. Joshua tried to pull himself free, but she squeezed her thighs, yanked on the back of his head, and locked their bodies together.

"Faith!" Dana screamed. "NOW!"

Joshua's jaw muscles surged and squeezed against the leather-covered forearm jammed in his mouth. Garbled, barking grunts were audible from his throat, and while her makeshift armor slowed him down, within a few seconds his teeth had found gaps in the leather and bit down to the bone. Dana threw back her head and howled as the muscles and ligaments of her arm were ripped asunder. Agony whip-sawed through her entire body as she watched and heard the bones of her left arm splintering between Joshua's teeth.

"FAITH!" she screamed again.

Faith rose to her feet, grasped the hilt of the stake with both hands, raised it high, and slammed the point against Joshua's back, right where his heart would be. For a moment, for one glorious moment, Dana thought it was over. Then the stake snapped in two against the chainmail armor Joshua wore beneath his coat.

Joshua pushed himself away, and this time Dana lacked the strength to keep him from breaking free of her grasp. Faith's frenzied cries of anger filled her ears as jagged teeth hanging beneath shining yellow eyes descended for her throat.

I love you, Jess.

The world turned red, and then black.

. . . . . . . . .

Faith threw herself at Joshua with reckless abandon as a howl of grief and anguish escaped her throat. Again and again, she smashed her fist against his jaw, her boot against the bullet wound in his side, and she repeatedly tried to force the broken stump of the stake into his neck.

Joshua rose from Dana's corpse, grabbed Faith's wrist, and squeezed until the stake dropped from nerveless fingers. She raised her fist to punch him again, but he reached out, grabbed her neck, and pulled her close. Below them, blood gushed from the ruined horror that had once been Dana's throat.

"Fuck you!" she cursed as with one hand she tried to pry his fingers off her neck, while with the other hand she reached back and attempted to hook a thumb into his eye socket.

Joshua's only response was to tighten his grip.

Faith tried to stomp on his feet, and she was rewarded with a grunt of pain when one of the strikes landed on his toes. Joshua shifted, used the arm wrapped around Faith's neck to pull her off her feet, then he reached up and grabbed her jaw with his free hand. She kicked at him and screamed epithets as she hung in his grasp.

When Faith caught sight of Joshua's face, she was surprised to find that he appeared human again. Green eyes, as opposed to the yellow eyes of a ravening beast, stared down at her, and while his mouth was coated in blood, the fangs and furrowed brow had vanished. Faith for a moment thought she detected the faintest hint of sadness in his expression.

His fingers dug painfully into her jaw as he used the arm around her neck as a fulcrum and twisted. At first Faith thought that Joshua intended to strangle her, but then she realized the awful truth. In desperation she redoubled her efforts to pry his hands free as he mercilessly continued to rotate her head.

Fuck you, not this …

She opened her eyes wide, and her scream died on her lips as Joshua twisted her spine past the limit of its range of motion. The sound of her vertebrae cracking echoed in her ears, and the moment her neck snapped it was as though most of her body ceased to exist. If he twisted her neck just a few more inches it would all be over, and Faith prayed he'd finish the job.

Joshua released her jaw and with surprisingly delicate movements lifted her numb body in his arms. Faith tried to move her feet, but below her upper chest there was no sensation whatsoever … it was as though she no longer had legs or a waist. While she could gesture with her hands, she couldn't raise her arms at all, and what parts of her body she could still feel tingled with a pins and needles sensation. A scrabbling, desperate panic overwhelmed her as Joshua carried her deeper into the shadows beneath the retaining wall.

"Someone will be here soon to pick us up," he patiently explained, as though he wasn't some monstrous terror, and she wasn't hoping for the oblivion of death.

"You fucking asshole," Faith whispered. She decided she wouldn't cry or beg, but maybe she could goad him into finishing the job. "Your mother was a murderous, unholy bitch, and my friends killed her … they killed her, and I'm glad they did."

He looked down at her. "I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work." He grimaced at her. "Besides, Arach is the one who is really responsible for what happened to my mother, and to me."

"I bet you can only kill when you're wearing your vampire face … that way you can blame it on the demon," Faith mocked him as desperation began to set in. "You're a fucking teenager who has had his head packed full of lies, just like I was once."

He looked down at her and said nothing.

Goddamn it, fine, I'll beg.

"Kill me," she said. "Just do it."

"You killed yourself when you violated that truce," Joshua said as he shook his head. "If it wasn't Wilkins … or me … it would have been Wolfram & Hart." He shook his head again. "Murdering a mayor in cold blood after he's left all of you alone the entire year? Really? Why didn't any of you simply leave?"

Faith ignored his pointless yammering and forced down the near-overpowering urge to scorch the Earth with the foulest oaths she could think of. "Buffy and Angel say that you have a soul, and if you do, if there is anything human left in you, kill me now." She plucked at his coat with the half-numb fingers of her hand. "Kill me, you fucking bastard."

"Sorry, Faith," Joshua said as he looked down at her. "The boss needs you for something."

Faith closed her eyes and tried to will her body to respond, but it was if she didn't have a body anymore. When she felt consciousness slipping away from her, she rejoiced.

. . . . . . . . .

"What are they waiting for?" Spike asked after the uneasy détente with the mass of demons had stretched on for what seemed like an eternity. "Are they planning on pinning us down here until sundown, then they'll rush us with vampires?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know, but at least they're not attacking."

"Do you think I could maybe chance a phone call?" Connor asked. "Just to see what happened with Xander and everyone in his truck?"

Spike and Buffy swiveled their heads to gaze at him.

"Are you serious?" Buffy asked.

"Just a thought," Connor grumbled.

When a long, black limousine pulled up to the curb near the largest cluster of demons, somehow Buffy knew who would be joining them.

Yup, there he is.

Mayor Richard Wilkins stepped out of the limousine, adjusted his tie, and strode close enough that they could hear him.

"You guys are a scrappy bunch, aren't you?" he called out with a smile.

Buffy took a deep breath and called back, "What do you want, asshole?"

The smile vanished from Richard Wilkins's face. "Buffy Summers, regardless of her dimension of origin, just cannot keep a civil tongue in her head. Maybe when we're done here, I'll have it cut from your corpse's mouth, bronzed, and turned into a commemorative plaque."

Buffy was about to issue a far harsher series of invectives when she heard the squeal of tires behind her. She turned to see a familiar black sedan racing down the roadway towards them.

Angel? Buffy?

"I don't like this," Spike murmured.

"Maybe they should try to run Wilkins over," Connor said.

. . . . . . . . .

"Buffy, I have come this far on faith, but give me something," Angel said as he slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt near where Spike, Connor, and the younger Buffy were facing off with a horde of demons … and more worryingly, Richard Wilkins.

I wonder if Angel should have tried to run him over …

Buffy shook the thought from her head and reached for the door handle.

"I'm just going to talk to him," she repeated. "That's it. He's made a mistake, and I know I can use it as leverage."

Angel took his hands off the wheel. "Fine, I'll follow your lead."

She began to step out of the car, then a thought occurred to her. She reached back, grabbed the Scythe, and carried it in her arms as she stepped out of the car. She walked towards Richard Wilkins and stopped when she was close enough that they could hear each other. Angel eyed the Scythe in surprise, then stood next to her.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Spike screamed.

"I'm with Spike on this one!" the younger Buffy yelled.

"Stay there!" Buffy called out. "Trust me."

Spike and Buffy exchanged hesitant glances which she studiously ignored as she gave Wilkins her undivided attention.

"You brought the Scythe, a weapon, to a good faith parlay?" Wilkins asked. "You're not getting off on the right foot here." When he saw her look of surprise he chuckled. "What, you don't think I know about the Scythe? Kiddo, I've been at this a lot longer than you or any of your friends."

"I'm not going to attack you with it," Buffy explained. "I mean, you know I don't do that sort of thing anymore, right?"

"Yes, I am aware," Wilkins replied, "so why bring it?"

"I'm not sure …" she replied, and she was shocked by how uncertain her words sounded even to her own ears.

Angel's head whipped towards her in surprise.

"Well, this has been fascinating," Wilkins said. "Allan said I should hear what you had to say, so I told my demons to hold off while I drove back down to City Hall, but at the moment, I'm searching for a reason why I shouldn't just have all of you killed right where you stand."

"Because you still need me to concede," Buffy replied. "You were sworn in today, way earlier than you should have been, because you thought I conceded … except I didn't."

"You sure did," Wilkins said as he checked his watch and sighed in irritation. "There's that pesky Buffy-Summers-isn't-conceding-based-on-the-unofficial-vote-tally form that you needed to personally file today, and you failed to do so."

"I have all day to turn in that form," Buffy explained. "You jumped the gun, Dick."

He waggled his finger in an excruciatingly patronizing fashion. "Wrong again, Ms. Summers, you had until the close of the clerk's window." He crossed his arms and stared at her. "The clerk's window closed at one p.m. today, and I was sworn in a few minutes later."

Buffy pulled out her phone and pointed the screen at him. Wilkins squinted his eyes in an attempt to read the miniscule text.

"And what is that?" he finally asked.

Buffy turned the screen around and searched for the section she wanted. "I had a rather long drive this morning," she said, "and it gave me time to read up on the Moonridge election laws." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Apparently, if the clerk's window doesn't close at its regular time, which is four o'clock p.m., Dick, any deadline falling on that day is extended until close of business the following day." She rattled off the lengthy string of letters and numbers that corresponded to the ordinance in question. "I actually have until close of business tomorrow to decide whether I'm conceding, and that means you were sworn in prematurely. If I want, I can refuse to concede, have your position as acting mayor revoked, and delay you for at least a few weeks." She tapped the phone thoughtfully. "You don't have any nefarious plans in the work that require precise timing, do you?"

Wilkins's face grew drawn and his expression darkened the longer Buffy spoke. When she finished speaking, he retrieved a phone from his pocket, turned away, and placed a hushed, angry sounding phone call. Buffy was fairly certain that at one point she heard someone sobbing on the other end of the line.

When Wilkins disconnected the call, his pale blue eyes were narrowed and murderous, and his words were clipped and precise, as he turned back to her. "For your concession, I assume you have a price?"

"I do," she confirmed.

"What?" he spat the word at her.

"Leave my friends alone," she said. "Call off your goons, let them go."

Wilkins considered the request. "If you concede, your friends here," he gestured towards Angel, Spike, her younger self, and Connor, "can leave, and I'll even give them until daybreak tomorrow to be out of Moonridge."

Buffy nodded. "We have a deal then."

"Buffy, what are you doing?" Angel whispered as he leaned close to her. The feel of his breath upon her neck made her shiver.

"Whatever happens, trust me," she whispered back.

Wilkins put a finger to his lips as his face took on a pensive expression. "Now, I hope you understand I can't take you at your word, Ms. Summers." He walked over and opened the door of the limousine. "I'm going to watch you fill out the concession paperwork and slip the completed and signed form into the clerk's drop box." He rubbed his hands together, and Buffy felt a tremor of fear at his gleeful expression. "After you drop off the form, you will be my guest until your concession has been processed, which will probably be sometime tomorrow morning." His smile vanished. "That's the deal."

"No," Angel vehemently whispered as he reached for her arm.

Angel, don't.

She froze and waited for the feel of his hand, but it never arrived. When she glanced towards him, Angel's arms were draped at his sides.

"What's it going to be, Ms. Summers?" Wilkins called out. "In exchange for you saving me a few weeks of mystical, and clerical, headaches, you in turn will save some lives, but the clock is ticking on my offer."

"I agree," Buffy replied.

"Good," Wilkins said as his face erupted into a broad smile. He gestured once more at the limousine. "Shall we, then?"

"Buffy …" Angel growled.

"What the hell is going on over there?" Spike shouted.

I'm saving your lives, that's what's going on over here.

"Give me one minute," Buffy called out to Wilkins.

He scowled but eventually nodded. "One minute," he agreed. "Whatever you have to say to your ex-boyfriend, say it." His face grew sad. "I was really rooting for you two … it's such a pity you couldn't make it work."

Buffy turned to Angel and stepped in close. "Listen," she started to say.

"Buffy, you cannot seriously be considering going with him," Angel interrupted. "We haven't even tried fighting our way out of this."

"Xander texted me," she explained. "Things are really bad, and I have to buy you guys some time so that everyone can regroup."

"What did Xander say?" Angel asked. "And why didn't he text me?"

"Angel, pay attention," she whispered to him. "You've got until tomorrow morning before Wilkins will come for all of you again, so you know what that means, right?"

"We hit the castle tonight?"

Buffy nodded. "Exactly."

"Buffy, I don't think we have the manpower to take Wilkins on …" Angel said.

Buffy stepped in close and lowered her voice further still. "I know you don't want to, but you need to make that phone call, Angel … you know exactly which one I mean. Swallow your pride and do what you have to do."

Angel looked at her in confusion for a moment, then he understood what Buffy meant. "I will," he promised.

"That's settled then," she said. "Now, there's something else I want to tell you."

"Do not get in that car, Buffy," Angel interrupted her. "Please, do not do this."

She patted him on the arm. "It's done, Angel." She looked up at him, and she couldn't remember his dark eyes ever looking so frightened. "In case we don't see each other again, I want you to know …"

"Don't say that," Angel said in a strained, hoarse whisper.

She pursed her lips in irritation. "Angel, I need to say this …" she tried to continue.

"ENOUGH!" Wilkins roared. His shadow seemed to stretch in an unnaturally long fashion as he walked over to them "It has been one minute, and we had a deal." He pointed at Buffy. "Get in that limo, fulfill your end of the bargain, or I will hunt your entire miserable ragtag band to the ends of the Earth."

Buffy ignored the angry screams from Spike and the feel of Angel's fear-stricken eyes boring a hole in her back as she climbed into the limousine. When the limo door slammed shut, she made her peace with realization that none of her loved ones were likely to ever see her face again.

She scooted as far away from Richard Wilkins as she could when he joined her in the limo. "I'll take that," he said as he reached out a hand.

For a moment, Buffy had no idea what Wilkins was referring to, then she realized she was still holding the Scythe.

. . . . . . . . .

"She's gone," Xander confirmed as he reached out and closed Jess's eyes.

Jess's skin was pallid, and her expression was serene, almost peaceful. Droplets of blood still dripped from the stump of her arm and the wound slashed across her neck and face.

Willow twisted in the front seat and tried to crane her head around. "Are you sure?"

Xander nodded. "I'm sure."

Perhaps it was the conversation that woke Colleen, but she stirred in the truck bed, sat up, and peered in through the broken rear window. "What the hell …" her eyes opened wide as she rubbed her jaw and remembered what happened. "Dana!" she yelled. "That bitch, she hit me!"

"She saved your life," Xander informed Colleen. "Dana and Jess didn't make it … and Wilkins has Faith."

Colleen reached through the window and checked Jess's neck for a pulse. When she couldn't find one, she hung her head in grief and slumped against the truck.

"I'm sorry," Xander said.

Colleen blinked back tears. "What about Connor? Spike? Buffy?"

"They found Dana's body, and now they're on their way to Xander's," Willow explained. "Which is where we'll also be heading … once we've taken care of Jess."

"I still think you should go to the emergency room, Will," Xander said. He sounded frustrated and confused. "You lost a ton of blood, you're not telling me what's wrong, and you were passed out for a good long while."

"I know what's wrong, and I need Giles to fix it," Willow informed him. "Trust me."

Colleen put a protective hand on the shoulder of Jess's corpse. "What about Jess?"

Xander gestured out the front windshield towards the hospital. "I'm going to drop her off."

"Drop her off?" Colleen spluttered. "What?"

Xander fished a hat out of the glove compartment, pulled it down over his face, then opened the driver's door. "I'll leave her someplace where she'll be found right away, then I'll be back in a moment."

"This isn't right," Colleen said as Xander opened the back door of the truck and reached for Jess's body. "Jess has been fighting for Moonridge all year, and I know she didn't get along with you guys sometimes, but she's saved a lot of lives." Colleen's voice grew heated. "She was my friend, and she deserves better than for us to dump her body at a hospital."

"Maybe we all deserve a hell of a lot better than what we've gotten in life," Willow said as Xander pulled Jess out of the truck, "but we'll just have to do the best we can with what we've been given."

. . . . . . . . .

Faith awoke to find herself seated in a folding chair, which itself sat within a cobblestone courtyard. She had been propped so that she was facing east, but the red glow of the sky and the long, ruddy shadows cast by the courtyard's pillars established that she'd been unconscious long enough for sunset to arrive. An enormous, black iron brazier sat in front of her, and she was close enough that the heat of it rippled against her neck and face. A thick metal door set in the body of the brazier was open, and within the iron casing the burnt red-white heart of the fire blazed.

She instinctively tried to rise, was momentarily surprised when she couldn't do much more than lift her fingers from the armrest of the chair, then remembered what had happened. The parts of her body she could still feel were half-numb, and there was a painful, lancing pressure low in her neck, just above where she'd felt her spine snap.

Why'd I have to wake up?
She recognized where she was immediately. The pale, yellow sandstone blocks that formed the battlements, the black granite crenellations, the sculpted gargoyles, and the six towers of the Valle dell'Ombra castle had become familiar to her over the long hours of staring up at the rim of Moonridge Canyon while she prayed that the Powers would save them all months of misery and simply obliterate the structure entirely.

Like pretty much all of her prayers, that one also hadn't been answered.

When she heard yelling, she tried to turn far enough to see who was crying out, but she couldn't raise or twist her body. Her breath turned to ashes in her throat as she waited for the reveal of whatever new horror awaited her.

"Faith, no," Buffy howled as she came into view.

Buffy tried to wriggle free from the grip of a black suited vampire standing behind her, but her efforts had no effect on the fingers wrapped around her upper arms. Buffy's jeans, boots, and windbreaker seemed intact and free of blood, and Faith immediately wondered how Buffy had managed to end up in Wilkins's clutches without there having been a ferocious battle of some sort.

"Buffy, what are you doing here?" Faith asked. "I would have thought Angel, Spike … heck, everyone, would have had to be chopped into little bits before they'd let Wilkins nab you."

"Ms. Summers is here of her own accord," Richard Wilkins informed Faith as he stepped into view. Joshua strode past, close enough that his elbow brushed against her fingers where they rested on an armrest of the folding chair, then he threw a few bloody lumps into the brazier. Faith bit her lower lip in anger at the sight of him.

The meat Joshua had thrown onto the fire crackled, blackened, and the aroma of burnt flesh filled the air. Wilkins gestured with his thumb towards the brazier, and said, "Sorry about the smell, I had a problem with a staffer tasked with researching election ordinances. It's been taken care of."

"We had a deal!" Buffy yelled. She'd stopped trying to claw herself free, but her eyes were wild and red as she stared at Wilkins. "You said you'd let my friends go, that was the agreement."

Wilkins shook his head. ""That is not what we agreed upon. Your concession bought the freedom of that little group on the street, including the counterpart Buffy from my home dimension, and no one else." He smiled in satisfaction. "Two can play the game of technicalities, Ms. Summers."

"Faith, are you okay?" Buffy asked. "What has he done to you?"

"It doesn't matter," Faith said. "You need to worry about yourself, B."

Allan, who was holding the Scythe, walked towards Wilkins. "Sir, what should I do with this?"

Wilkins gestured towards the large, pale, black-haired vampire holding Buffy in place. "Let Ian keep an eye on it."

The vampire-Ian released one of Buffy's arms, extended his hand, and accepted the proffered Scythe.

"Dana's dead," Faith informed Buffy. "I'm only telling you to spare you any misplaced notion that you might be able to save her."

"I suppose you killed her, you monster," Buffy said to Joshua. "I cannot believe that I ever felt guilty, for even one second, over what happened to you and your mother."

Joshua turned away from the brazier to stare in curiosity at Buffy.

Faith recognized the look in his eyes, but she doubted the kid would figure out anything important in the next few minutes. Nevertheless, she felt compelled to try. "It's never too late to do the right thing, or start on that rocky path to redemption," she forced herself to say to Joshua, though truthfully, what she wanted to do was curse at him. "Trust me, I know."

"Don't waste your time, Faith," Buffy snapped. "We should have climbed down into the crater and burned his body."

Joshua stared at Faith with guarded eyes and an expressionless face.

A wind whistled through the courtyard and blew a strand of hair across Faith's forehead. She couldn't even lift her hand to brush it away, so she continued to stare into the fire as she tried to will her heart to stop. For the first time she noticed that robed figures lined the walls of the courtyard and that the battlements swarmed with demons of an endless variety.

You'd need an army to take this place.

"What are you going to do with Faith?" Buffy asked.

"The question isn't what I'm going to do with Faith," Wilkins said as he stepped over to the chair where Faith sat. "The question is what Faith has done."

"Just get it over with," Faith muttered. "I don't want to hear any speeches."

Wilkins frowned, but continued, "You see Ms. Summers, I want to bring something very old, very precious, and unfortunately, very destroyed, back into this world." A robed figure waddled into view, handed something to Wilkins, then waddled away. Wilkins held aloft the wood carving Buffy had seen photographs of earlier, the three triangles carved in an interlocking pattern.

The Valknut.

"You recognize it," Wilkins said. "This is the last vestige of a rather unique Norwegian Stavkirke, one that was painstakingly brought piece by piece to Sunnydale. This Stavkirke, you see …"

"Yeah, yeah," Buffy interjected, "the Stavkirke has some sort of connection to Yggdrasil, the world tree, and beneath the roots of Yggdrisil is the well of Mímisbrunnr, and you want to drink its magic wisdom water. My question is, what do you have planned for Faith?"

Richard Wilkins seemed remarkably put out that Buffy already knew of most of the finer points of his undoubtedly well-practiced monologue. "Well," he sputtered, "you seem to have worked out the gist of my master plan all on your own."

Wilkins stepped behind Faith's chair and put his arms on her shoulders. "You see, everything came down to this little lady."

Faith screamed internally as her fingers fluttered on the arms of the chair.

"Get your hands off her," Buffy pled.

Wilkins stood back up. "The tech boys caught the Osbourne witch poking around in my websites, so you already know that every vote cast for me was a sacrifice on my behalf." He sighed in contentment. "Not too much of a sacrifice, you understand … I don't want to rule over a city of ruined souls, but maybe someone dies a year earlier than fate intended, or they wake up and their eyes are a slightly less attractive shade of blue, that sort of thing." He gestured towards Faith. "But real sacrifice, the kind that will grant someone like me the power to reach through time and bring back a wooden structure that burned in the first half of the twentieth century? Well, for that you're also going to need something big."

"The truce," Buffy said as her heart fell. If not for the vampire gripping her elbow, she might have fallen to her knees.

Wilkins nodded. "You are more clever than you look … I'll have to remember that if I need to kill any more versions of you." He pointed at Faith. "Faith knew that her life would be forfeit if she broke the truce with Wolfram & Hart, and nevertheless she willingly and explicitly violated it anyway." Wilkins crouched in front of Faith and rubbed a hand on her lifeless knee. "I thank you for your willing sacrifice, Faith. See, that's the secret to making this whole spell work … all the participants have to be willing."

Faith wracked as much phlegm into her mouth as she could, spat at his face, and watched in irritation as the spittle struck some sort of unseen barrier and dropped onto the cobblestones by her feet.

Wilkins shook his head as he rose to his feet. "I honestly don't know what I ever saw in you."

"Why me?" Faith asked. "You could have just asked any of these lunatics in robes to off themselves, and I bet they'd have creamed themselves at the chance to do their master's bidding."

Wilkins stared at Faith for such a long time, Buffy began to wonder if he intended to answer.

"It couldn't be just anyone," Wilkins finally replied, "it had to be the person I love most in the world."

What?

"You don't love me," Faith guffawed. "To do this to someone," she stretched out the fingers of one of her hands and gestured towards her body, "you couldn't possibly love them."

"But the me from this dimension, he did love you," Wilkins said. "As much as it pains me to admit, I am in many ways a visitor here, but I have it on the very best authority … from folks who don't tell lies about this sort of thing … that he loved you more than any other person now living."

"What the hell does that have to do with you?" Buffy asked. "You're not him."

"I am him in the ways that matter for this particular spell," Wilkins said.

Buffy threw back her head and tried to keep from yelling in frustration. "Are you telling me you're going to sacrifice Faith so you can exploit some mystical loophole?"

"Faith sacrificed herself, actually," Wilkins reminded her, "but yes … when you put it that way … it about sums it up."

"So, you get this tree-water, then what happens?" Buffy asked. While she doubted that she'd ever have the chance to tell Angel or the rest of her friends, she found she still wanted to know. "What kind of wisdom do you get? Or will you turn into one of those monsters that led to the good folks of Sunnydale burning down the Stavkirke in the first place?"

Wilkins stared into the heart of the brazier. "It isn't wisdom, per se, it's … everything."

"You always did love your bullshit riddles," Faith snapped.

"The knowledge, experience, power, of any life you've ever lived across any dimension, available to you," Wilkins explained. "Any prior point of your own life, you can revisit, recapture, make it a part of yourself again." He clasped his hands in front of him as he turned around. "The possibilities are limitless … you can bring back anyone you have lost so long as you can pluck an alternate version of them from the multiverse … or gain the knowledge or skills of any version of yourself throughout the different planes of reality." He smiled. "You don't want to drink too much of the water at any one time, though, that can have unpleasant side effects." He shuddered. "Just ask Odin, he had to pluck an eye out to keep from being torn apart by what he had absorbed … or the citizens of Sunnydale who absorbed a few too many souls and had everyone believing they were monsters."

Buffy gave up trying to make sense of whatever nonsense Wilkins was spewing. "Faith was your sacrifice, right?" Buffy asked. "It's done, then? You don't need anything else from her?"

Wilkins shook his head, and Buffy noticed that Allan looked like he was going to be sick. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the diminutive man backed away, ducked through an open entryway, and vanished into the castle.

"I'm still alive, B," Faith said. "Not quite a sacrifice yet." She looked at Wilkins. "Are you going to do it yourself, or do you not want to get your hands dirty?"

"I have to do it myself," Wilkins replied.

Faith tightened her jaw as she stared into the flames. "How will it happen?"

Buffy fought back tears as Wilkins gestured towards the open door of the brazier.

"This isn't how I'm supposed to die," Faith announced.

For a moment, just a moment, Buffy had the strangest notion that Faith was speaking the absolute truth, but as soon as the thought occurred to her, it was gone.

Wilkins laughed, and Buffy tried once more to wrench herself free so she could throw herself at him and claw the eyes from his face. "Funny," Wilkins said, "but I think this universe's version of me thought the exact same thing before the end."

"Don't do this," Buffy pled.

"It's over, B," Faith said. "If you have any pull left with this douchebag, use it to get yourself out of here."

"Faith …" Buffy found she didn't know what to say.

"I know you don't give two shits about me," Faith informed Richard Wilkins, "but maybe out of respect for the real version of you, can you grant me two requests?"

Wilkins considered for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm in a rather good mood, so it depends on what the requests are, I guess."

"First request," Faith continued, "Buffy doesn't need to watch this."

"No!" Buffy gasped. "I don't want to leave you."

Wilkins curtly gestured towards the vampire holding Buffy, and he immediately yanked her away from Faith and began pulling her across the courtyard towards the castle.

"Faith, no!" Buffy yelled as she tried to fight her way back.

"Thank you," Faith said through gritted teeth at Wilkins.

"And your second request?" Wilkins asked.

Faith waited until she could no longer hear Buffy screaming her name before she spoke again. "Burning alive seems like a bad way to go," she said in as uncaring a voice as she could manage. "What other options might be on the table?"

"It has to be fire, I'm afraid," Wilkins said.

Faith closed her eyes and refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"But out of deference for the feelings of the me that once lived in this world, I can do you the favor of making it painless."

Faith's eyes snapped open. "Sounds good."

Wilkins leaned over, murmured something in her ear, then traced a symbol upon her forehead. When he finished, she no longer felt anything … not the breeze on her skin, not the feel of the chair beneath her fingertips, nothing at all. She tried to say something, but her lips and tongue no longer responded to her commands.

As he had promised, when Wilkins lifted her from the chair and gave her to the flames, there was no pain.