Faith didn't leave Tara behind as they ran this time. Instead, she gripped Tara's arm and dragged her down the hallway. It was almost like flying. Tara was sure her feet barely touched the ground as they passed numerous dark classrooms and ascended a set of stairs.
"Me and B got a recording of her voice in one of the freezers in the kitchen." Tara heard the evil smile in Faith's voice. "Can you do somethin' like you did with the tiles? I ain't sure even Riley's dumb enough to go runnin' in just 'cause he hears B." Faith never slowed as they continued along yet another hallway.
Sucking in air, Tara managed to gasp. "I c-can do one m-more glamour." They'd only managed to find enough ingredients for two. "And t-two wards, like in the lab." If Tara's strength held. Her personal magical stores were low; she'd used those trying to protect herself and Buffy with the mirror spell, and replenishing from nearby ley lines was difficult while running. If only Scooby life wasn't so new – and so out of control – she might have thought to do it while they'd been in the construction office doing nothing more strenuous than reading Professor Walsh's files.
"Didn't Red have more in that bag? She's normally got it crammed full of shit," Faith said as she helped Tara over a fallen row of lockers.
Shit was right, but Tara was too polite to say it out loud.
Luckily, Faith didn't seem to expect a response. "It'll have to…" Stopping abruptly, she tilted her head to the right.
Tara froze in place, caught by Faith's intense concentration. Something wasn't right.
Something, in fact, was very, very wrong. As Faith resumed moving, rotating her body in a slow circle, Tara felt a light brush on her shields. Oh, Goddess. Ethan. Tara huddled deeper behind those protective barriers, afraid to breathe.
Seconds later, a second touch probed at her mind.
Buffy wasn't planning to waste time. Instead of sticking to the sidewalks, she left the Science Wing and cut diagonally across the quad. God, she was tired. The rest of the crew had to be close to collapsing. Willow had certainly looked ready to pass out in the office, and Tara…
Tara.
Without conscious thought, Buffy slowed down. Why was Tara still here? She had every reason to leave; to tell Buffy that she was through. Or worse, to pretend to be part of the Scooby gang and then put a magical neon sign over Buffy's head for Ethan to find.
Slowing further, Buffy realized she was still doing it. Still treating Tara the way she had at Hemery. Tara was a good person. Turning Buffy and her friends over to the monster Walsh had created wasn't something she'd ever do. Instead, Tara would hang around, risking almost certain death, to help stop Walsh's evil plan.
To help Buffy.
Buffy smiled. Tara had stayed to help her. No one had ever done that before. Well, Willow was still in Sunnydale, but her decision had more to do with Faith than Buffy – no matter what she said. Giles and Joyce didn't count. They had to stay. Giles because it was his job, and Joyce because she was Buffy's mother.
Tara was here because she wanted to stay. She wanted to help Buffy.
It was suddenly even more important that they beat Ethan and Walsh. Buffy began running again, tapping into Slayer speed so she was a blur across campus. No matter what, she'd keep Tara…the gang safe. Buffy was so focused on speed she didn't see the group of soldiers until she was right on top of them.
Narrow, bug-like goggles swung her way, along with the tips of several very large machine guns. "It's her!" one of them uttered. At least, Buffy thought he talked. It was hard to see his lips move through the mask he wore under the goggles.
Recovering quickly, Buffy waved and smiled. "Hi! You look lost. Can I give you a tour?" Then, before the guns could do more than hover in front of her face, she grabbed the tip of one and squeezed. It flattened immediately, and Buffy moved on. She repeated the mashing on a second then yanked another away from its owner and bent the metal in half. The newly reformed weapon made an effective, if short, staff. Buffy swung it with both hands, sweeping the final two machine guns out of the hands of their users.
As they watched in goggle-eyed amazement, Buffy posed with hands on hips. "You don't want a tour? But it's such a nice school. There are only a few holes in the floor…" It was fun to tease; however, Buffy needed to be somewhere else. Now that the soldiers were unarmed and no longer a threat, she waded in – with fists, not her metal staff.
"Enjoy the nap, boys. Wish I could take one, too," she told the pile of unconscious bodies left in her wake. The stakes were even higher now. Buffy used her enhanced speed and senses consciously this time as she resumed her journey toward the Administration Wing. Where there was one group of baddies, there was probably more. She didn't want to be surprised again.
Nothing showed up on her senses, though. Whatever forces Walsh's crew had mustered didn't include the supernatural. She couldn't even feel Ethan, and he had to be nearby. God, she hated running into danger blind. After all the years of demon fighting, surely Buffy had earned a few perks.
The crackle of another unseen radio said otherwise. Buffy slowed as she rounded the side of the main building. Faint footfalls sounded ahead.
"Damn." Just short of stomping in frustration, Buffy slipped behind a stand of scraggly bushes. She'd have to do this another way. She engaged Slayer Stealth Mode and crept toward the noises. As expected, a new group of soldiers stood in a single-file row next to the double doors leading into the building. They were linked by one hand pressed to the shoulder of the man in front. "Too bad I don't have a bowling ball." They'd go down in a clump.
Since that wasn't an option, and the strung out posture would make it hard to repeat the gun-crushing technique, Buffy had to let them go. She'd have to trust the booby traps she and Faith had set. It was hard, though, to creep cravenly away. Buffy didn't have to be too much like Faith to enjoy a good brawl. Staying alive had never seemed so…well, so cowardly.
Buffy detoured, retracing her steps and running for the opposite side of the building. Her original plan had been to grab the camera next to the main building. Thanks to Walsh's goons, that was out. She should have known having a plan was a bad idea.
The next closest camera was in the locker room. Great, now Buffy needed to be thankful Snyder had been a pervert.
Taking more care than before, Buffy maintained her speed but kept to the shadows and the sides of the buildings. She paused frequently to listen and look. There weren't any new groups of soldiers; at least, none she could see. Buffy didn't believe for a minute that the two groups were the only ones, though. Walsh had had an entire underground hideout.
She was sweating and every nerve ending was on edge by the time the towering two-story gym and its row of clerestory windows loomed ahead. The slight sounds of insects in the bushes and the occasional rustle of leaves made Buffy jump and reach for her stakes. Setting her jaw, she determinedly completed her journey. The only way into the locker room without going through the main school was through a window (and not even Slayer skills would help with a jump that high) or through a maintenance entrance. At least the locked door was easy to open.
With a single twist of her wrist, Buffy broke the lock. The gym was lit better than the kitchen or hallways. Moon and starlight filtered through the windows and Buffy crept across the wood floor, wincing as her tennis shoes squeaked. Without the bulk of the bleachers and the basketball goals marking the ends, the large space seemed endless. Only the need for stealth kept Buffy's pace slow and cautious. She wanted to run. She needed to run. Her breathing sounded like hurricane-force gusts of wind. Finally, after an eternity and a million steps, Buffy reached the girls' locker room.
The girls'. Not the boys'. Snyder's creep factor continued far after his death.
Scents of the past assailed Buffy as she pushed open the door and went inside. Chlorine. Bleach. Sweat. Not even a bomb and massive reconstruction efforts could get those out of the concrete floors and metal lockers. Wrinkling her nose against the stench, Buffy paused to let her eyes adjust to the deeper gloom.
Little by little, Buffy began to see details of the room. Lockers and sturdy changing benches ran in neat rows throughout the room. Cheap venetian blinds hung haphazardly from the windows of the tiny coaching office. And, cleverly camouflaged by a dilapidated Razorback statuette sitting on a wall shelf near the ceiling, was the camera. Buffy hopped onto a bench and clambered onto the nearby lockers.
Crunching metal and the thud of her footsteps might have woken the dead. If the soldiers were in the building, they'd have to be deaf not to know where Buffy was now. Buffy gave up on stealth. She gripped the camera at the base and wrenched it from the mooring plate. Trophy in hand, she jumped to the floor and took off using every last bit of her enhanced speed.
The gym, the quad… They whipped by as Buffy made her way back to the construction office. She never slowed or paused; she did take enough care to avoid the areas where she'd left the soldiers. "Will," she gasped out, sliding to a halt in the construction office. "Do your thing with the camera."
Willow stared at her in incomprehension.
"Camera. Ethan. You said it could turn him off." Hoping for help, Buffy peered at her mother and Giles. "Come on, guys. Walsh's goons are out there, and we're running out of time!"
Her words stirred everyone to action. Willow snatched the camera out of Buffy's hands, nimble fingers prying at the metal casing. Giles and Joyce hurried around blowing out candles and grabbing up weapons.
It was the perfect time for Walsh. "I don't know why you bother. You are no match for what we've created. Ethan Rayne was a pathetic man who believed he was powerful. I've made him more powerful than he could have imagined. Than you can imagine."
Walsh was wrong. Buffy had a very good imagination, thanks to years fighting evil. "Shut up!" Her voice was harsh; it betrayed her fear and anger. Betrayed her to Walsh, who smirked. Buffy wanted to turn away – and didn't. She was not going to let Walsh control her again. Deliberately keeping her eyes on Willow, Buffy said softly, "Can you do it? Use the camera to stop Ethan?" Please, she added silently.
"I got the information off the internet, Buffy. It's unreliable at best. Maybe I can stop Ethan." Willow didn't meet Buffy's eyes. She continued to strip the camera apart. "Or I'll hook the battery I stole out of the clock on the foreman's desk up to Snyder's camera and we'll get nothing more than a spark."
Buffy's knees felt weak. A spark? She'd grabbed the camera for a spark? She pushed back the panic, remembering her earlier conversation with Faith about Willow's stress levels. "Well, if that's what we get, maybe it'll be enough to set Ethan's hair on fire. I never did like that slicked back look, you know?" She tried to smile and then stopped. It felt too wrong to be reassuring to anyone. "Besides, we have more to worry about than one of Walsh's toys. I took out one group of soldiers on the way to the gym. And…" Did Buffy really have to admit she'd run away from the other group?
"Indeed." Giles cut in before Buffy made her embarrassing admission. "Just after your departure, I glimpsed a group on the monitors. Faith and Tara have gone to set the wards. I believe we shall have to be ready for Ethan to arrive soon."
If Buffy had felt bad about her actions outside, she felt even worse now. Not to mention suddenly very scared. Tara was out there with all of Walsh's troops hunting for them. "I'll go make sure Tara's safe," she said.
"No, you won't," Willow answered. "My girlfriend isn't going to let anything happen to them." Even focused on her role as MacGyver, she got Buffy's attention. "Faith is a Slayer, just like you. Stop acting like you're the only one."