Suggested Listening:

"Wage Wars, Get Rich, Die Handsome" by Mountain Goats

"Dig" by Adam Again

"Times Are Changing" by Built by Titan

"Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" by Sufjan Stevens

If There's A Hell Below

by

Michael Walker

"You seem very… relaxed, sir." Delilah placed the file folder on Mr. Trick's desk and stepped back.

"Yeah, it's all well and good to be a criminal mastermind, but sometimes it's good to just get… basic." He picked up the folder. "Give me the thumbnail… what are we looking at here?"

"There is a promising lead out of the Library of Ashurbanipal."

"How promising?"

She hesitated before answering. "'Promising' is all we've got."

"So, it might be the real deal, might be another blind alley." Trick waved a dismissive hand. "Give everybody high-fives for last night, break out the good blood, something to let 'em know I appreciate the work." He looked up. "Did I stutter?"

Delilah squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. "No, I just… That'll lift spirits for now, but since Calderon…"

Trick nodded lazily. "I know, but let's make 'em happy now. Even if Ashurbanipal doesn't pan out, we're not far from the finish line. Our client is taking a more hands-on attitude."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Doesn't matter. He pays the bills, he calls the shots, even if some of those shots are… iffy." Trick picked up the folder. "Make sure everybody's taken care of. We'll need them all in a positive frame of mind."

"That does not sound good," Matti said, spearing an olive out of her Greek salad. The Knights had brought their lunches to the library.

"It was not," Giles said. "It was awful."

"Just pinned him up there like a big ol' bug, huh? Gnarly." Stefan took a bite of a grilled cheese sandwich he'd brought from home.

Matti and Giles both stared at him. "Aren't you going to say 'Cowabunga, dude'?" Matti asked. She rolled her eyes and turned to the librarian. "So, what-"

Stefan swallowed. "Wait, I'm not done. Did it look like they hammered the nails in or did they use one of those big industrial nail guns?" He took another bite of his sandwich.

Giles looked shocked. "I'm sure I have no idea whatsoever."

Matti shook her head. "Wow. Just… wow." She spoke to the Watcher. "Any idea what this means?"

Giles crossed his legs, rested his right hand on his thigh and his left elbow on the table. "Well, we no longer have to worry about the Reverend."

"Obviously.' Matti took a small bite of lettuce. The Greek dressing was tart.

"Neither does Trick." Stefan shrugged. "What? The Reverend was always kinda hanging out there on Trick's flank. Now he's not. He's out of Trick's hair, but now we're all Trick has to worry about."

"That," Giles said, "does not ease my mind."

"He was crucified?" Willow hissed. The ordinary rumble in the SHS cafeteria probably rendered the precaution superfluous.

"Right there," Xander said. "Man, next time uncle Rory says 'Christ on a cross', it's gonna create a whole new set of mental images."

"So, where's Buffy?" Oz asked.

Xander shook his head. "I don't know. She was in the parking lot with Giles. I, uh, I felt very unnecessary."

"Don't worry, Woody. Andy hasn't forgotten you." Buffy slipped into an open chair. Her hair was slightly damp, and there were several wet spots on her lavender top. An uncomfortable silence settled around the table. "Guys," the Slayer said, "please, no wiggage."

Willow scrunched her mouth. "Xander made it sound intense."

Buffy shook her head. "He exaggerated."

Xander leaned over his tray and pointed his fork at her. "You went full Predator."

Buffy's expression was bland, but her eyes flashed. "Drop it, okay?"

"Um," Willow said, "what's with… ?" She made a circular finger motion encompassing the Slayer.

"Oh, this?" Buffy touched her hair. "Had to do a quick sink rinse and spot-clean. There was quite a bit of… flakeage."

"Oh, okay." Willow bent to her lunch.

The door opened. Faith rose to a crouch and snarled as the guards entered. She watched them through her tangled hair as they circled the cage and went to the faucet. Styrofoam picked up the hose as Shotgun grasped the spigot.

"You f-" The cold, stinging spray cut off her exclamation as it took away her breath. This was not a home garden hose. Her uniformed torturer snickered as he carefully directed the jet of frigid water. Faith gasped and twisted away, but her bonds limited her escape options. Her tormentor dropped the hose as his compatriot turned off the water. Faith pushed back her hair and lunged forward. The chain brought her up short, and then the switch was thrown.

"Look at that." Styrofoam nudged his partner. "She's foaming at the mouth."

Shotgun turned off the electricity. "Yeah," he snickered as the Slayer collapsed to the floor, "but I sure do like to watch her dance." They slammed the door as they exited the cell.

Faith groaned and rolled onto her back.

The Knights got off the elevator and turned left. Stefan took a half-dozen strides, then turned back to watch the hall. Matti continued until she arrived at the proper door, looked both ways, then knocked. The door opened; Gerard Roland stood inside. "Come in, come in," he said, stepping aside. Matti stepped back to allow Stefan to enter while she watched the hall. She went in last and made sure the deadbolt was thrown. Gerard sat down in the room's one chair. The Chevaliers shared the sofa, an article of furniture that was neither bed nor couch, but manifested the worst properties of each.

"I'm sure this is not a social call, and since you asked to meet here rather than discuss this in the library or at Rupert's apartment, I assume it has something to do with your… divided consciousness."

"Yeah," Matti said. "We've put it off about as long as we can. Our reports have been kinda on the thin side of shady, but we're at a point where we have to call it in."

Gerard nodded. "I assumed that would be your position. What do you think the Knights will want to do?"

Matti rubbed her hands together. "Well, I think, given the conditions on the ground, that we're past a logistical or intelligence response, so… we're probably looking at something operational."

Gerard considered this. "In what way?"

"Just off the top of my head? I'm guessing a tactical team or two"

"That seems a bit heavy-handed."

"Heavy-handed?" Matti's hands slapped down on her thighs. "Gerard, what are you smoking? The Seal is here, it is in the hands of the enemy, they are working on the last lock to open this vault, I think a tactical team would be welcome."

Gerard shook his head. "But we have the Slayer-"

"Yes, ya do, but the Slayer is one girl with a support system of three friends and… whatever Cordelia is to them."

"She has her Watcher."

"Yes, she has Rupert Giles, and you're here, but there is no Watchers Council backing you up. No mages, no network, just you and Giles." Matti shook her head. "Listen, I know how you feel, I really do, but… we're up against it here. I'll push for me and Stef to be point on the team. I'm happy to do that."

Gerard nodded and turned to Stefan. "What do you think?"

Stefan shrugged. "If I wanted to have input, I'd have tried to be team leader. I didn't, and I'm not, so assume I stand with Stretch here."

"Don't call me that."

"But if you want to hear me say something, then I'll tell you this. You need every warm body you can get. This is no time for medieval rivalry or pissing contests. We've put it off as long as we can, hoping that we'd catch a break. We didn't, and now time's up."

Gerard nodded again, but with more sadness this time. "Of course. You are right." He sighed and stood up, as did the Knights. "Should we tell Rupert?"

"Of course." Matti twisted at the waist, trying to work out a kink caused by the awful sofa-bed. "And I'll do it… I won't put that off on you. He deserves to hear it from me."

The ringing doorbell startled Bob Snyder. He honestly hadn't been sure if the bell worked before now; no one had ever pushed the button. That meant that there was little (no) chance of any social visit; probably either a solicitor or some sort of prank by one of those little shaved apes. He cinched the belt on his robe tighter, then opened the door warily, prepared to slam it in the face of a Jehovah's Witness or confront any joker.

"Hello, Bob, mind if I come in?"

Snyder took a step backward. "Mr. Mayor… I… I wasn't expecting-"

"Oh, I know, I probably should have called, but I thought this would be a nice surprise." Richard Wilkins stepped across the threshold, followed by his mountain of a security chief, who had to duck and turn slightly sideways to enter. Once inside, he took up a position beside the door, looking for all the world as though he had been carved and deposited there. Snyder just stood there, a stunned look on his face.

"Bob," the Mayor said, "why don't we take a seat?" Snyder nodded and shuffled to a damask-uphostered armchair. He dropped into it, still staring at the enormous man beside the door.

"Bob." Mayor Wilkins sat in another armchair, not bothering to remove his overcoat; the matching sofa empty to their left. "I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate all you've done for me. Your help has been invaluable in keeping this project on track."

"Yes, a-about that," Snyder stammered, tearing his gaze away from Nicholas to take a quick glance at Wilkins before his eyes were drawn back to the behemoth. "I, uh, I've never really understood exactly what this project is."

"Well, you didn't need to, Bob… and don't start thinking 'need to know and I didn't need to know'. It's nothing personal, it's just that this is a very… complex endeavor, and trying to explain most of it to you would have been a waste of your time. The key thing is for you to know just how much your assistance has meant to me, especially since we're getting very close to the culmination of the whole thing."

"I-If I can ask, when will that be?"

Wilkins offered a brief nod. "Certainly. This will all be wrapped up before graduation. We're on final approach."

"That's good to hear." Snyder felt perspiration trickling down the side of his bald head. "I'm glad I could help."

"Well, you've been a tremendous asset, and there's only a couple more things I need from you." The Mayor stood up and extended his hand. Snyder struggled to his feet and reached out to grasp the offered palm. He detected movement from the corner of his eye and looked over involuntarily. Nicholas had moved slightly; his bulk covered the door completely. Snyder opened his mouth to speak and realized that the Mayor still held his hand. Wilkins tugged, hard, and the shorter man stumbled forward, his consciousness registering a flash of motion as the Mayor's left hand thrust upward. Snyder felt the blow in his solar plexus.

Why did he punch me in the stomach? Bob Snyder thought, then felt a burning sensation in his gut and terrible sense of weakness in his limbs. He looked up at the Mayor and tried to ask Why?, but his voice was gone and all he could produce was a pathetic squeak. Wilkins pushed again, and Snyder felt any remaining strength drain from his legs.

"I really am sorry, Bob," Wilkins said as he lowered the gasping man to the floor. "If it's any consolation to you, and I hope it is, I need the blood of a friend, and I really and truly do consider you a friend. Please remember that." The Mayor watched as the question grew in and the light faded from Snyder's eyes, and then the light went out. Wilkins left the knife embedded in the body as he stood up and stretched. "Getting a little stiff in my old age. Get to the kitchen," Hizzoner said to Nicholas, "and find me something to use as a basin. I want it right here when I open up the carotid." He looked down at Snyder's corpse and shook his head. Nicholas appeared in the passageway between the living area and kitchen and held up a large Dutch oven.

"Outstanding. Okey-dokey," the Mayor said, "grab him by the ankles and hold him up." The massive man plucked Snyder with no more effort than a normal person would use to grab a plucked chicken. Wilkins grabbed the hilt of the knife protruding under the sternum. 'Hold him steady. This will be difficult enough as it is. He's not getting any warmer."

"Buffy? Buffy?"

The Slayer struggled awake. Her mother loomed over her, a way-too-concerned-for-this-hour-of-the-morning look on her face. Buffy licked her dry lips and pushed up on her elbows. "Yeah, I'm… I'm awake. What's up?"

"There's an announcement on the radio. School's been canceled today."

Buffy flopped back on the bed, then pinched her upper arm. "Ouch."

Joyce frowned. "Why did you do that?"

"To make sure I'm not dreaming."

Joyce scoffed. "Why would they cancel school?"

The Slayer shrugged, a movement made more eloquent by her prone position. "They came to their senses?"

"I'm going to make breakfast. Since you're home today, how about waffles?"

"Mmmmm, waffles." Buffy stretched slowly, luxuriating in the comfort of her bed. "I'll be down in a minute."

It was actually several minutes before the Slayer tripped down the stairs, her robe flying behind her like a cape. "Wow," she said, sliding into a chair at the table, "an unexpected day off. What to do, what to do?"

"Well," her mother said as she poured batter into the waffle iron, "I could always use a hand at the gallery."

"Mom, if you found a hundred dollars on the street, would you say, 'Hmm, I should put this in my savings account'? Okay, you might, but I wouldn't. This is a day to do something special."

The phone rang. Joyce held up a hand in a 'wait' gesture and picked up the handset. Buffy ran a finger around the rim of the bowl and licked off a dollop of waffle batter.

"Yes, she's right here." Her mother held out the phone. "It's Mr. Giles." Buffy scowled and took the phone.

"Yes, Giles?" She listened for a minute, then hung up the phone. "Better wrap up one of those waffles to go, Mom."

Giles frowned. "What is that?" The Watcher turned the key and the Citroen's engine coughed into life. He put the transmission in gear and pulled away from the curb. The Watcher wore his version of dressed-down: some sort of rough tweed jacket with enormous bellows pockets, a corduroy collar, and a suede panel on the right shoulder. The Slayer had dressed in a pair of jeans with ripped-out knees, a pink sweatshirt, and a quick, messy topknot.

Buffy took a bite, dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a finger, then licked said finger clean of whipped cream. "It's a waffle sandwich. Two waffles around whipped cream and strawberries. Messy, but delish." She nodded at his coat. "What's that?"

"A shooting jacket."

"Groovy. Do you wear it when you're shooting or when you're being shot at?"

Giles shook his head. "We need to move forward." He worked the clutch and shifted gears. "Did you wonder why you had this impromptu vacation?"

The Slayer scrunched her nose. "I did for a second, but then I remembered that old saying about not buying a gift horse in a bag… or don't look in a pig's mouth… something like that." The car hit a small pothole and she almost lost her waffle sandwich.

Giles rattled off an address. "Is that familiar?"

Buffy finished off her breakfast before she answered. "I know it's in the northeast part of town, but other than that, not even a little. I mean, I could find it if I needed to."

Giles kept his eyes on the road as he spoke. "That is Principal Snyder's address. School was called off today because he was found dead this morning."

Buffy's eyes grew wide. "Well, that's quite a co-inky-dink."

"Indeed," Giles said. "It would be, if I believed for a second it was."

"That's everybody," Buffy said as she looked out the window. "Police, ambulance, looks like those people who look around for evidence."

"Forensics," Giles said.

"God bless you," the Slayer muttered. As the Citroen cleared the commotion in front of the former principal's house, she turned to face front. "Okay," she said, "here's how I think we handle it. You go up to the front door, play the concerned co-worker-"

"I am concerned."

"Good, that's even better. You attract the attention, I'll hang around the perimeter and listen to people run their mouths."

Giles frowned as he turned right on a cross street and pulled to the curb. "Will that work?"

She gave him a look that expressed how much she pitied his ignorance. "Nobody will even notice I'm there. Anyway, you talk to whoever's in charge, I'll keep my ears open, when I see you leave, I'll drift away and meet you back here. Sound good?"

"I… I guess." Giles took a deep breath as they exited the car. "I'm not sure what to say."

Buffy pursed her lips. "If there's lull, mention your shooting jacket."