A heavy silence hung over the living room, then Buffy said, "I've got a plan."

"Yeah," Willow said. "Buffy's got a plan." She turned her head toward the Slayer. "You've got a plan?"

Giles looked intently at the Slayer, but Matti nodded. "Care to tell us what it is?"

Buffy lifted her chin, and her voice was clear and strong. "I go get it."

"Yeah, she– Wait, what?" Willow cried, her voice rising sharply.

"That's not much of a plan," Matti said.

"I'm good with it. Occam's razor, right Will?" Buffy's face was a mask of determination. "We've been a day late and a dollar short this whole time, all the way back to… to last fall. We've spent so much time trying to figure out what Trick's doing, what the Mayor's up to, how did the Reverend fit in, what are they going to do next... It's time to stop counterpunching. We move first. I go get the Seal."

"That is… that is a dangerous decision, Buffy." Giles looked down at his hands, which were clasped in front of him as he leaned forward. "What about…?" He tapped his neck with the first two fingers of his right hand. "Earlier, you were afraid Trick would use them against you. What has changed?"

"Nothing. A lot." The look which passed between Slayer and Watcher was between two people who had no secrets left from one another. "When I said that, I thought there was another way. I was afraid Trick would use me against you. You guys won't be around. If Trick uses his mojo, I'll die there, where I can't be used as a weapon against you."

"Maybe he's waiting for you," Matti said. "Maybe this is all designed to lure you into a trap."

"I don't think so," Buffy said. "I may not be a Knight, and I may not be book-smart, but I've been in a lot of fights. When you crucify an enemy, that's not a cool-headed mastermind, that's someone who's lost his…" Her hands groped at the air.

"Shpadoinkle?" Willow offered.

Buffy snapped her fingers and pointed at her best friend. "Yeah, his shpadoinkle. Thanks, Will. Trick may try to act all Superfly, but he's still a vampire, and he's still mad, and when people are mad, they act on emotion. They make mistakes."

"You can't do this," Xander protested. "It's insane."

"No, it's not." Cordelia's face wore the sharp, chilly expression with which Xander was very familiar. "I mean, yes, it's crazy."

"You mean, so crazy it just might work?" Willow's voice rose, trying to find a hopeful note.

"No," Cordelia said. "It's just crazy-"

"I would appreciate it if everyone would stop using the word 'crazy'," Buffy said quietly.

"What would you call it?" Cordelia demanded.

Buffy crossed her arms. "I prefer the term 'alt-sanity'."

The cheerleader rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Yes, it's crazy, but… Buffy's done crazy before. She went up against the Master, and he killed her, and she still kicked his ass. She drank that... goo at the hospital so she could see der Kindestod and kill it. She-" Cordelia glanced quickly at the Slayer, then back to Matti. "-she sent her boyfriend to hell to save the world. She's done hard, and she's done crazy. This plan is nuts, but lots of her plans have been nuts, and she's still here."

"Cordelia's right." Oz never moved from his cross-legged posture on the floor, but the gravity of the room swung to him. "If any of us tried it, we'd be doomed, but…" He locked eyes with the Slayer. "She can do it."

"Gee, guys, those votes of confidence are going right to my head." Buffy ran her hands through her hair.

"It's suicide," Matti said. "Hell, it's not even good suicide. It's amateur suicide."

"It's actually a pretty fair plan." All eyes turned toward Stefan. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"How is it a good plan?" Matti asked.

He shrugged, arms still folded. "Seriously, look at where we stand. We're on the clock for Nebula Black, and even if that wasn't a factor, are we just going to sit here on our hands until Trick makes his move?" He looked at the Slayer, his eyes cool and level. "I think moving forward is preferable to standing still."

Buffy offered a curt nod. "Thanks."

"When were you planning on going and getting it?" Stefan asked

Buffy shrugged. "I was thinking maybe, oh, yesterday."

"No way. This is hard enough without going in half-cocked. We need to work this out." Stefan scratched the back of his neck. "If she's dead-set on doing this, and we're not going to run Nebula Black, then we might as well go all in." He held out a hand toward the Slayer. "And didn't you say that Seal is probably at City Hall?" Buffy nodded, and Stefan held up a hand in a 'there you go' gesture. "See, we probably won't even run into Trick, plus, if we do crap out, the Knights will be here pretty quick anyway."

"And leave Sunnydale a smoking crater," Xander said.

"Which is no worse than what the Mayor is planning." Stefan shook his head and sat back, utterly relaxed. "I love this plan. I'm excited to be a part of it."

"And by part of it…" Matti said, her voice edged with something hard.

"I'm going with her. This idea is bonkers, but it's even more bonkers for her to go alone."

"Her is right here," Buffy said in a dry tone.

"Yup, and you're committed to this, aren't you?" Stefan raised an eyebrow in a gesture halfway between a question and a dare. The Slayer didn't need to respond; the look on her face was answer enough. "Well, then," Stefan continued, "I guess we're just haggling over price."

Buffy started to stand up. "So, then, I'm headed to City Hall–"

"Hold your horses." Matti gave the Slayer a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You can't just run off to City Hall. We need a better plan."

Buffy cast a wary look toward the Knight. "We need a better plan?"

Matti nodded. "If my partner's in, I'm in. You're not doing this by yourself. It's stupid dangerous any way you slice it, but let's minimize that as much as possible. We've got forty-eight hours before the Knights start to act. We called roughly twenty-four hours ago, so we have twenty-four hours left."

"And at least another twenty-four before they can feasibly mobilize," Stefan pointed out. "Gives us until Saturday night, probably until Sunday night, Monday morning."

"Just jawboning here," Xander said, "but the Knights seem to move awfully slow."

Stefan favored him with a wry look. "A weapon like Nebula Black isn't particularly time sensitive. You wouldn't rush loading up a thermonuclear device, would you?"

"And if the three of you attempt this suicide mission and it turns out to be… suicide?" Giles finished quietly.

Buffy's laugh startled everyone. "Giles, there's a good chance we'll all be dead before Monday anyway. If the three of us do a total New Coke, it just speeds up the process."

Willow looked taken aback. "I don't like that at all."

"Let's say…" Giles cleared his throat. "Let's say that this plan succeeds, that you obtain the Seal. What is the end game?"

The Knights looked at each other, a silent communication passing between them. Matti spoke. "When we retrieve the Seal, we'll notify the Chevaliers. That will forestall Nebula Black. Then, we hold off the Mayor and Trick until the Knights can move in force and take the Seal for containment and quarantine. Anybody see any holes in that? Anybody have any suggestions?" The Scoobies were big-eyed, but no one spoke. "Okay, then." Matti turned to the Slayer. "Tomorrow, we plan."

Buffy squinted slightly. "And we throw down…?"

"Saturday morning. City Hall's closed, less risk to civilians, less attention on us, we can hit it after sunup to minimize vampire encounters."

The corners of the Slayer's mouth turned down, but it was a frown of approval. "Violence and skulduggery. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday."

"Sorry, I'm a little late." Joyce hung up her jacket and placed her purse and keys on the coffee table. "Had one of those clients just before closing. Couldn't make up his mind, but obviously wanted to spend money, so…"

"It's okay," Buffy said, looking up from her magazine. "I've been fine… here, by myself."

Joyce nodded, a little breathless. "I'll get something ready for dinner." She went into the kitchen, and Buffy could hear plates and silverware being removed, followed by a brief silence, then Joyce's head popped around the doorframe. "Didn't we have a bag of chips in the cabinet, or am I losing my mind?"

"What? No, I don't... think so." The Slayer tucked her feet up under her and tried to keep her voice level.

"It's just… I was sure they were there. The emergency bag I keep in case Xander comes over?"

"Oh, uh… those…" Buffy gulped. "Now, I remember, I was… I got hungry, and… I ate them."

Joyce's eyes widened. "You ate an entire bag of chips?"

Buffy swallowed and attempted to keep her eyes from darting from side to side. "Well, you know… Slayer metabolism."

Joyce made a tsk sound. "Still, it makes me feel like kind of a bad mother." She shook her head. "Go wash your hands."

The Slayer stood up and tossed her magazine on the chair. "Mom, it's not like I'm six. I haven't been outside playing in the dirt."

"I'm glad you're still picking up your messages." Florestan stepped out of the shadows.

"Good to see you, too." Angel stood with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, feet spread wide. Mist and steam floated through the alley, an alley a fair distance from the one behind Willy's Place. "I was a little surprised… I was about to contact you."

"Ah, serendipity."

Angel chuckled in a not-funny way and nodded. "I guess. So, what's on your mind?"

"Oh, I thought I might share some information with you."

"I think I've got a few things figured out," Angel said, leaning against the wall of the alley.

Florestan looked impressed. "Why don't you tell me these things?"

Angel walked a few paces down the alley. "Well, someone's been sweeping the gutters and bringing in whatever comes up. The phrase 'muscle, not brains' has been thrown around."

"So?"

"Well, I just wondered who could afford to do that, and who might need it, and the Venn diagram overlapped over you."

The demon sighed, a sound so world-weary it almost collapsed in on itself. "And, here, I thought you were actually using your brain. That is a very elementary supposition."

Angel held up a hand. "I'm not finished. The next question is 'why'. Now, I'm just guessing here, but if I had something really precious stored in a place with limited access, an easy way to secure those access points would be to just stack bodies in front of them. Doesn't require much thought or direction. Simple and effective."

"Again, very simple reasoning. Are you simply asking me to confirm your pitiful guesses?" Florestan shook his head.

"Okay, you called this little get-together," Angel said, a bit nettled. "How about you wow me with whatever card you're holding close to your vest?"

"Finally, an apt metaphor. Sometimes we must show a face card, which I think you will find very interesting." Florestan pushed past Angel, walked to the end of the alley, then pivoted and returned. "There is an extra card in the deck, a joker, if you will."

Angel gritted his teeth. "Tell me or don't, but stop the overacting."

The demon shrugged. "Very well. At the request of Mayor Wilkins, your little friend has been returned to Sunnydale."

Angel couldn't conceal his confusion. "Little friend?"

"The other Slayer." Florestan's head tilted back and a broad grin creased his features. "Oh, you were not expecting that at all, were you? To continue the gaming metaphor, you have a terrible poker face."

Angel shook his head. "Faith? Faith is back in Sunnydale? Why would she come back?"

"She didn't 'come back'... I said she has 'been returned. She was brought back in shackles at Wilkins's order. She is, even now, in specially constructed accommodations beneath the Sunnydale police station."

"Why are you telling me this?" Angel asked. "Seems a little out of character for you."

The false good humor dropped away from the demon. "When we learned of her whereabouts, Wilkins ignored my advice, my fervent counsel." Florestan shook his head. "There was always a greater than zero chance that this enterprise would fail… but until recently, that prospect was at what I believed to be a manageable degree. The Mayor's insistence on bringing back your Slayer, his refusal to listen to reason, and Trick's recent actions have raised my exposure to unacceptable levels. This entire scheme has been a tremendous risk, but risk should be mitigated whenever possible. If anything, this is perfectly consistent with my character."

Angel's eyes narrowed. "I still don't get it."

"And you never will, you simple, simple boy. The odds still favor us, and if the plan succeeds, I am on the winning side. 'Treason doth never prosper, for if it prosper, none dare call it treason'. But, if it fails, well… I can make a plausible claim to being a double agent, someone who appeared to be on Wilkins's side, while sowing the seeds of his downfall. After all, who told you about his plan?"

"So, you're just covering your ass?"

Florestan smirked. "Oh, how can I stand in the face of your moral disapproval?" His expression hardened. "You will all die, and I will be the favored advisor of the new king of hell… but I have walked this world for so long that you still seem like a newborn babe to me. If the cosmic dice fall in that one throw, some will pay… but I will not be one of them."

The young woman leaned against the metal frame of the convenience store and looked around the corner. The chipped brick facade, a builder's attempt to make the structure look more solid and grand, brushed her cheek. The bright halogen lights over the gas pumps rendered her almost invisible, at least to human eyes. Her own eyes were focused on the mouth of the alley two blocks away. The lights didn't bother her, because her eyes weren't human.

As she watched, a lean figure exited the alley and walked swiftly away, never looking back, giving the impression, once it had gone a few paces, that it hadn't even seen the dark passage running between stores. As the first figure turned the corner and walked along the larger street, a second, wider figure paused at the mouth of the alley and looked around. For a split-second, it looked as though the second player looked right at her, but it shook its head and walked away in the opposite direction from the first. A silver Porsche Boxster zipped past the store, its throaty engine roar dopplering in her ears. As the powerful sports car disappeared from sight, Josie stepped out from behind the cover of the building.

"Faithless bastard," she said.

"For something you threw together at the last minute, that was really good." Buffy wiped her mouth on her napkin and carried her plate to the sink.

"Well, thank you," Joyce said. "I'll see if I can get a Michelin star for my macaroni and cheese with leftover meatloaf."

"The tire people rate food? I'll get that." Buffy hurried into the living room and picked up the phone. "Hello?" She listened for a moment, her heart rate increasing as she did. "Okay… see you in… fifteen." She hung up the phone and turned to her mother. "I gotta go out for, like, a minute." She ran up the stairs to get her shoes. When Buffy descended, Joyce stood by the door, a small, tense smile on her face and her hands clasped.

"Be careful," she said to her daughter.

"I will, mom." Buffy rose up on tiptoe to kiss her mother on the cheek, then scooted outside. Joyce stood in the open doorway and watched her daughter's small figure disappear into the dark night, then slowly closed the door.

Florestan stood idly watching the digital numbers change, his hand shoved carelessly into his pockets. A suggestion of movement in the darkness caught his attention. A slender girl with long, dark hair stepped out of the blackness into the harsh white circle of halogen light.

"Filling up?" she asked, her gaze traveling along the Boxster's sinuous lines.

"Yes. Are you looking for a ride?"

"No." She shook her head. "Probably going in the wrong direction. I'm headed into town."

He shrugged. "It's your funeral."

She smiled. "I seriously doubt that. Nice car, by the way."

"I thought I deserved some reward from my hard work."

"So you're sticking with your usual MO—stir the pot and then bail."

"What harsh judgment. I do believe that however this affair is resolved, my presence might be required elsewhere, so it's important that I be prepared for that eventuality."

"A sick aunt you have to visit? Your self-preservation skills are impressive."

He smirked. "No one else will look out for me."

"That's true." She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. "Saw your little tete-a-tete back there. Let me guess… you told him about the Slayer in the cellar."

"I did." The pump dinged and the demon pulled the nozzle from the fill slot.

"Your usual both-ends-against-the-middle game?"

"Why stop using the tried-and-true when it still works?" Florestan spread his hands wide and offered her a beseeching look.

Josie stared at him for a half-dozen heartbeats, then her face shifted. "You sonofabitch… I thought you were just building a case for yourself, but… you're hoping that they try to rescue her, and they all die."

Florestan looked very satisfied with himself. "There are so many possibilities. As you said, they could all die, which… yes, I would be in favor of that, because it would ensure our success and I could claim it as a brilliant stratagem, but they could also succeed, only to find that old animosities and hatreds wreak havoc, also ensuring our success. Or they could, I suppose, triumph against all odds and put their old grudges aside… the Watcher and the Knights could work together… " he laughed "...no, they will not defeat us, but if the hubris of my compatriots causes us to fail, I and I alone will be able to stand before the Merciless Seat and point out that I was actually undermining their rebellion." He tilted his head and shrugged. "It is a beautiful gambit, if I say so myself."

Josie walked around the Boxster and looked over its roof. "You're sure the Summers girl will attempt it?"

"Are you joking? She holds herself responsible for Faith's condition… she is full of guilt and compassion. She can no more ignore an opportunity to make amends and be the hero than a tiger can become a vegetarian. We will be forgotten, at least for the moment, while she tries to atone for her sins. That's the problem with having a purpose, with a higher calling. You become so consumed with what you should do that it makes you blind to what you actually can do." He winked at her.

She stared at him, slowly shaking her head. "You really are a sonofabitch."

"Please." He attempted a mock-humble expression. "I know you consider that an insult, but, really, your disapproval warms my heart."

She shook her shoulders and sighed. "Well, I'm sure I'll see you around."

"Certainly." He opened the door and paused, one foot inside the car. "You know, you shouldn't be so sanctimonious. At least I actually get involved."

She looked back without breaking stride. "Who says I don't?"

"You sounded intense." Buffy stuffed her hands in pockets as she looked out over Ramsett Park.

"I had a meeting," Angel said. "We were right about the goons. They're arranged around City Hall in case anyone tries to take the Seal before the spell is found."

Buffy pursed her lips. "You believe your source?"

"Two sources." Angel looked up at the stars. "Willy… and Florestan."

The Slayer's head whipped around. "The demon who works for the Mayor? We're trusting him now?"

Angel shook his head. "No, but I believe him. Willy said these guys are meat on the hoof. They keep 'em fed and paid, they're happy. Florestan confirmed that." He rubbed his chin. "One wrinkle… they're above and below ground. In the tunnels and watching the streets."

Buffy nodded, her mind racing ahead as she kicked absent-mindedly at the turf. "We'll need maps for the sewer tunnels. Willow can do that."

Angel rubbed a hand over his chin. "That's not all…"

"What?" Buffy looked up at him. "They have nazgul flying around?"

"He said…" Angel stepped around in front of the Slayer. "He said Faith's here."

Buffy's heart dropped into her stomach; her bones turned to water. "What?" Her voice was a bare whisper.

"Wilkins found out where she was and had her brought back. He implied that she's imprisoned in the basement of the police department."

"Implied? Implied how?"

"The word 'shackles' was used." Angel stepped forward. "Buffy-"

"No." The Slayer held up one hand; the other covered her mouth. She stood as still as a statue for what seemed like an eternity, then said, "Do you believe him?"

"I do." Angel licked his lips. "If things go sideways, he can claim that he was trying to undermine the Mayor the whole time." Buffy nodded, a faraway look on her face. Angel shifted from foot to foot. "What are you-"

"Shh, shh." The Slayer's eyes narrowed in concentration. Finally, having worked through whatever problem was in her mind, she turned to him. "Are you free Saturday?"

Angel chuckled. "I'll check my calendar."

Buffy shook her head. "Sorry, I mean… I think I'll need you. Are you okay with that?"

Angel chuckled. "If I wasn't, I'd already be long gone."

Buffy eased open the front door and slipped into the living room. It turned out her stealth was unnecessary: Joyce Summers sat in an armchair facing the door, hands folded in her lap. "Mom," the Slayer said, startled, "you're… still awake."

"Mmm-hmmm." Joyce checked the clock. "I usually am at eight-thirty."

"Um, yeah." Buffy looked down at her feet. "My bad."

"Buffy." The Slayer looked up at the tone in her mother's voice. "Please, sit down."

"Okay." Buffy moved sideways onto the sofa, like a person who expected to find a tack on the seat or a whoopee cushion underneath it. "What's up?"

"I'd like for you to tell me that." Joyce's gaze was level, direct, and sad. "After you left, without telling me where you were going, I might add, I was cleaning up the house, and I began to notice… little things, like missing chips, things not quite in the right place, like people had been here, only no one told me. Then, a little while ago, Ms. Hollis called for you. When I offered to take a message, she didn't want to say anything, but finally she just said she wanted to be sure you were at school tomorrow."

"Yeah." The Slayer nodded quickly. "She's planning a surprise for Cordelia, and–"

"Buffy." Joyce leaned forward, her hands clasped. "This is how it started, nearly a year ago… cryptic phone calls, you making excuses and slipping away to meet people I didn't know about, and… God knows, maybe I'm being overly sensitive, because I'm really, really aware of that… anniversary, but… it feels like it's starting again."

The Slayer shook her head. "Mom, don't-"

"Buffy." Joyce's voice was more sad than sharp. "Please. If something's going on, tell me. Please. Last year, you had a secret-" Joyce's voice broke, and she took a moment to recover. "Last year you had a secret, one that you felt you needed to keep, but… I know who you are now. Please don't think you're doing me any favors by keeping me in the dark."

Buffy stared into her mother's eyes and recognized what she saw there. She nodded slowly. "You're right, mom. Something's going down. It's, like, Sunnydale tradition, the equinox, then prom, then the annual festival of the end of the world."

Joyce leaned back and drew a trembling breath. "I'm not… I'm not going to ask you to explain it all to me, because I know it would terrify me, but… please don't try to protect me by lying to me or hiding things from me."

Buffy wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "If you can promise not to freak out."

Joyce looked down at her lap, then up at her daughter. "What if I promise not to freak out in front of you?"

Buffy smiled, and the movement caused tears to stream down her cheeks. "Deal."