It took just shy of ten minutes for Parker and Faith to reach the basement level of the building. In that time, Faith had to admit that Parker had performed impressively. It hadn't been easy crawling through what felt like miles of ductwork – especially when the diameter of the space had tightened, just as Parker predicted.

Faith kept quiet and kept going, trusting that she could slip through, and that it would be over soon.

"Hold up," Parker said. She was speaking so quietly that Faith heard her over the coms instead of normally.

She held position as instructed, taking the break to marvel at Hardison's technological prowess, and the number of times it would have come in handy in her own line of work. Ahead of her, Parker appeared to be struggling with something. A moment later, the thief started to slip out of sight.

Once she was almost out of view, Faith saw the opening she'd uncovered. There wasn't a lot of light coming through, which was something of a relief. The plan was for them to come out in a locker room, and if it was still dark that meant Faith was right about the likelihood of them crossing paths with anyone.

She followed after Parker as soon as she could, gripping the edge of the grille opening and flipping herself out and to the floor.

"Are they gonna notice the grille being out?" she asked the thief as soon as they were face to face again.

Parker glanced up, and then shrugged. "Probably." Looking back at Faith she asked, "Where to?"

Faith thought about what they'd been able to see of the layout and the likely schedule of any of the Slayers currently calling the place home. She stripped off the long sleeved shirt she'd worn for the climb through the ductwork, revealing a close-fitting tank top. "Check the lockers," she said. "Find a shirt to change into."

She half-expected the thief to start questioning the instructions, but Parker seemed to be perfectly comfortable following Faith's lead. She opened and closed three different lockers, before pulling out a faded pale blue shirt and holding it up for Faith's inspection.

Faith nodded. "Good." They didn't need to make a lot of changes to their appearance – just enough to look more like the sorts of girls that would be living here.

"All right," she said, as Parker changed shirts – stuffing her own shirt in the locker, "say as little as possible, and stick close. If somebody tries to get in your face, push back – shows of strength are pretty common. I'll cover you as best I can, but you're going to have to try and look like you belong here."

"Faith, are you sure direct confrontation is the way to go?" Nate's voice in her head.

"I have to find out if any of them are reachable, Pops," she said. "Parker's safer with me than on her own – especially if we have to take a more direct route out of here."

"Parker…"

The thief met Faith's eyes more directly than she ever had before. "I'm good," she said. "Faith'll watch out for me. She promised."

"We gonna do this, or we gonna talk about it?" Faith asked, winking at Parker.

Eliot stepped off the elevator, and was immediately faced with a set of polished wood doors. Magically warded, he noted. Even though he couldn't sense them, he'd worked enough jobs for Wolfram & Hart that he knew how they – and especially Lindsey – worked.

Behind the doors was a high reception desk. A young man in his early twenties was behind it, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit. "Mr. Spencer," he greeted Eliot before the latter could say a word. "He's waiting for you. If you'll follow me?"

Stepping around the furniture, he went immediately to another door. Resisting the urge to run, Eliot followed him through the door and into Lindsey's inner sanctum.

It was everything he expected his brother to have done for himself. The wood was real, the carpet was plush, and the furniture and appointments had clearly been chosen to leave no doubt as to the power being wielded by the owner of this space.

The owner who was even now sitting behind his desk, smiling at Eliot. "On time. Thank you for that."

Eliot glanced around the room. "Guns, Linds?" The comment was as much for the team as for his brother. "Semi-automatics are a bit overkill, don't you think?"

"Eliot, was that plural?" Nate asked.

Before he could figure out a way to slip Nate the information, Lindsey shrugged. "You said you don't trust me. I'd be a fool to let you into my office without some sort of protection." He paused. "They already know not to try and close with you, and they will shoot if you get too close to them."

Eliot chuckled, taking another look at the three hulking figures that surrounded them. Lindsey was probably working an angle, but Eliot suspected that at least part of this move was because he really was worried about what Eliot might try.

And that fact amused him a whole bunch. "Where'd you get these three, anyway?" he asked. "Rent a hulk?"

"Got it."

Lindsey gestured at the chair that had been positioned opposite his desk. "Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Orange juice?"

"No thanks," Eliot said – dismissing both the invitation to sit and the offer of something to drink. "Let's just get this over with."

It hadn't taken long for Faith and Parker to map the entire basement level. In addition to the locker room, there was a full gymnasium with free weights and machines, a sparring area with workout mats that looked to Faith as if a hundred girls could easily be drilled at once.

She'd started to count the number of beds in the barracks, but Parker beat her to it. "A hundred fifty bunks," she said, keeping her voice low. "Eighty-three filled."

"Where are the rest of them?" Nate asked.

Faith snorted. "That's easy."

The cafeteria held twenty-five girls, scattered at different tables – each in various stages of wakefulness. "They don't have everyone they're after, yet," she muttered, going over the master list of borderline cases in her head. Slayer HQ at last count was tracking closer to two hundred girls that Buffy and company felt could be turned into working for Team Evil.

"Lindsey's probably allowing for some failures along the way."

Faith had to admit that it made sense. In her experience, not all the girls could be swayed by the promise of money and power. A lot of them just wanted to be left to their own devices, and were more than likely to tell anyone who came knocking from Wolfram & Hart to pound sand.

"Here goes nothing."

As she was pushing open the door, she heard Nate say, "No chances, Faith. Remember one of those empty beds likely has your name on it."

She'd been holding off thinking about that as long as possible. Wolfram & Hart had tried to recruit her before. This entire scheme was merely a larger version of the plan Lindsey had been involved with years earlier. More resources to draw from.

Faith walked to one end of the serving line and grabbed a tray. Parker immediately followed suit. I should have killed him when I had the chance, she thought – guilt starting to close in. Or hurt him so bad he'd think twice about pulling this shit again.

She hadn't known at the time that Lindsey would prove to be the long-term threat. Not that you would have cared. The lawyer she'd maimed hadn't been so much a threat as an annoyance, and Faith had enjoyed putting him out of commission a little too much.

Banana…oatmeal…egg and sausage sandwich… Faith glanced down and saw that Parker's idea of breakfast consisted of sugared cereal and a donut. Which of us looks more like they fit in? she thought – feeling suddenly a lot older than her chronological age.

Scanning the room, she picked out a likely looking girl sitting alone at a table near the wall. "Hey," she said, nodding a greeting to the girl. "Mind if we join you?"

The girl shrugged. "Free country." She was slender and tired looking – body language closed down and defensive.

Faith slid onto the bench across from the girl. Parker slipped in beside her. "I'm Tammy," she said. She jerked her head in Parker's direction. "This is Parker. We got in last night."

"Mary," the girl said. "You meet the big guy yet?"

Faith flashed back on the memory of her experiences with Lindsey McDonald. "We've met, yeah. Interesting dude."

That seemed to amuse Mary. "Intense is the word you're looking for."

Lindsey sighed. There was something to be said for the power play of making somebody stand while he sat, but not when it was Eliot. "You're being ridiculous, you know."

His brother smiled. "Wouldn't be the first time. You got me here, Lindsey. Time to let me know why you're not wasting my time."

"You're suddenly too good for all of this?" Lindsey asked. His smart phone chimed for his attention, and he glanced quickly at the screen. It was a message from IT, letting him know that Alec Hardison was trying to hook into the building's security system.

Glancing at Eliot, he said, "Give me a sec." Snatching up the phone, he dashed off a quick message to let them allow the hacker to finish his work. Nothing for him to exploit. Letting him see the workings of their physical security system was an acceptable risk.

"Sorry," he said, setting the phone down again. "Boss stuff." He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers dramatically. "So. You wanted to know why I'm not wasting your time?"

Eliot smiled, but there was no warmth to it. "That's what I said."

"We want you to come on board long-term," Lindsey said, remembering his conversations with the VP of Special Projects in Los Angeles. "The Senior Partners believe you are the only person who can do this for us, and they're willing to set you up for life once it's done."

Lindsey realized he was half-expecting this new version of his brother to dismiss the idea of financial security – even though that had been one of Eliot's driving motivations in their youth. "You have my terms," was all he said, however.

His jolly band of misfits again. Lindsey was reaching the limits of his patience where the great Nathan Ford and his influence on Eliot were concerned. "You'll do this if I guarantee their safety?"

His brother shrugged. "Plus our usual terms. I notice you're not exactly full of details on this super-important, long-term assignment."

Not for lack of trying, Lindsey thought – remembering how he'd been stonewalled when he'd asked the VP to elaborate on the assignment. Get his cooperation first. "I've been told it wouldn't be in the firm's best interest to let you know too much up front." It was the one thing that bothered him about the whole business. "I'll offer you our usual terms, however," he added. "Sign on, and I'll watch your back. You won't have to take a step you're not comfortable with."

If Eliot had laughed at the offer, Lindsey couldn't have been responsible for his actions. Come on, he thought. This is smart. It's easy. And we can work together again. He missed having Eliot in his life – more than he would have ever admitted to anyone. More than his presence, he missed being needed by his brother.

His intercom beeped for his attention. Annoyed at the interruption, he jabbed the button with a finger. "Is it an executive VP or higher?"

"No…no…" his assistant stammered. "But…sir…"

"It can wait," Lindsey snapped, cutting off the communication. Taking a moment to compose himself, he looked back at Eliot. "I can't guarantee their safety in perpetuity," he said, trying to pick up the conversation where they'd left off. "You wouldn't believe me if I said I could."

"True," Eliot said.

"I can," Lindsey said, "offer you something that will clean up another mess in your lives, however." He paused, partly for dramatic effect, but also so he could be sure of having Eliot's full attention.

"Damian Moreau."

Lindsey knew there were only a handful of things he could have said that would have broken Eliot's poker face so completely. Luckily for him, it was a genuine offer. Moreau was a long-term, valued client of Wolfram & Hart, but whatever job the Senior Partners wanted Eliot for – it was important enough that Lindsey had been authorized to use Moreau as a bargaining chip.

Before Eliot could recover enough to call Lindsey a liar, the door to the office opened, and Lindsey's administrative assistant burst into the office. "Sir, I'm sorry. This really is important."

Lindsey had come to his feet, ready to order the man shot on sight – but one look at the fear in his eyes stopped him. Making sure everyone in the room knew how unhappy he was, Lindsey beckoned him over.

Eyeing Eliot nervously, the man crossed the room and leaned in close to Lindsey's shoulder. "They found Peters," his murmured. "He's been in a coma for the past three days – she dropped him at the hospital with no identification."

Dammit, Lindsey thought. He'd spent too much time trying to track down Peters in order to pinpoint Faith's location. Which meant…

He glanced at Eliot. "Faith's in Boston, isn't she?" His eyes widened as a sudden flash of insight hit him. Lindsey couldn't say how he knew – Eliot's expression hadn't changed at all – but staring at his twin, he suddenly knew with absolute certainty precisely where the dark-haired Slayer was.

Keeping his eyes on Eliot, Lindsey picked up the phone again and pressed the hot-key for his head of security. "Lock down the barracks. I want an immediate head count of all the girls – if you come up with any extras, shoot to kill."

That got Eliot's attention. Lindsey hung up the phone, never taking his eyes off his brother. "You better hope your people are fast enough and smart enough to stay out of their way."

"You promised if I came in…" Eliot began, but his voice trailed off.

Lindsey laughed. "You know that was only good until you tried to double cross me. All bets are off now."