Buffy hung a right at the end of the gym and went up the tunnel. The locker room was empty, but the light was on in Matti Hollis's office.
"Hey," the Slayer said, rapping on the door frame. "My mom said you called last night, reminding me to be at school today. Very convincing. By the way, that's a top ten 'you might be a narc' move." She crossed her arms and leaned on the jamb. She wore a sleeveless navy-blue shell top over blue-and-green plaid pants.
"I did throw that one away." Matti made a face. "Probably would have been easier if I didn't know your mom."
"Moving on," Buffy said. "Aren't we planning our little surprise party?"
"That's not an all-day sucker, and if anyone around this place still has eyes on us, I don't want to arouse suspicion. You said Willow could get a map of the sewer tunnels."
Buffy's expression made it clear that this was a minor ask. "I think she has one mounted on the wall of her bedroom. Her mom thinks it's abstract art."
"Could she get us the floor plan of City Hall while she's at it?"
"Is Gavin Rossdale a hottie?" The Slayer observed the gym teacher's reaction, or lack thereof. "Okay, that was a rhetorical hottie, the answer is obviously yes, Gavin Rossdale is tasty and yes, Willow can get what we need."
"Can you get them from her and be at Stefan's place at, oh, six-thirty?"
Buffy nodded. "Ten-four. See you after dinner."
Buffy spotted Willow coming down the hall. It wasn't hard: the teenage witch wore a butter-yellow jumper over a black T and leggings. The two girls veered out of the mainstream of student traffic and docked in a small gap between two banks of lockers.
"Hey," Willow said, her face somber. "I'm kinda surprised to see you at school."
The Slayer's mouth curled up at one corner. "Ms. Hollis thinks we should all look as 'normal'-" finger-quotes accompanied the sarcasm "-as possible today." Willow nodded. Buffy lowered her voice. "Can you still get the blueprints for the sewers… and City Hall?"
"That's almost insulting," Willow said. "I've been doing that since eighth grade."
Buffy bit her lip. "Will, I need you to do something a lot harder."
"Sure, Buffy. Just ask."
"I mean super hard. And dangerous."
Willow shifted her weight, hugging her books closer. "Well, I don't like any of those words, but it wouldn't be the first time. Anything for you."
The Slayer's expression was grave. "I found something out last night. Faith's back in town, the Mayor has her in a cell under the police station, and I need… I need you to help Angel break her out."
Willow blinked. "Okay, you called my bluff." The redheaded Wiccan frowned. "Faith's here? In Sunnydale?"
Buffy nodded. "According to Angel."
Willow chewed her lip. "Are we sure we want to let Faith out? She's crazy, and dangerous, and crazy dangerous."
Buffy took a deep breath and exhaled. "Will, I may not make it back. Who am I kidding? I suck at statistics and even I know that I'll probably die at City Hall. If that happens-"
"It won't."
Buffy ignored her. "-if that happens, we're going to need a Slayer."
"But we can't trust-"
"Willow." Buffy's voice was sharp. "Faith's a wild card, the wildest card, but she does like to fight. You'll need her against Trick and…" The Slayer grimaced.
"What?" Willow leaned in close to Buffy. "What?"
The Slayer pulled her collar aside. "If I do make it, you might need her against me." Willow recoiled; Buffy leaned in. "Will, use your magna cum laude brain-"
"Summa." Willow blanched. "Sorry. Reflex."
Buffy smiled. "Your summa cum laude brain. If there was ever a time for Trick to work his mind-control mojo, this is it. This is Final Jeopardy. No more questions. Even if Angel's right and it takes everything he has to control me, if he wins this time, he can rest for… basically for eternity." The Slayer exhaled. "We need Faith."
"No." Willow shook her head and crossed her arms. "I mean, that's a good argument, in fact, it's a great argument, but Faith has… she's hurt too many people."
The Slayer grabbed her friend by the shoulders. "Will, I've hurt people. God, I've hurt practically everybody I know. Did you ever quit on me? Did you ever cross my name out of the book?" Willow tried to twist away from Buffy's gaze, but the Slayer held firm. "I know I'm asking a lot, but, Will… I need you to do this."
Willow's mouth drew into a tight 'O' of displeasure. "That's dirty pool."
"Yeah, and I'm playing it. Does that tell you how important this is?" Buffy let go of her friend's arms. "Let… let Angel do the heavy lifting, just be there, okay? Let her know… Tell her it's her chance to get Trick."
"That'd do it." Willow exhaled, a deflated sigh. "Okay, my arm is officially twisted."
"I'm not at all convinced this is a sound plan," Giles said, arms crossed over his vest. He paced back and forth across the library.
"It's as sound as we're gonna get," Matti said.
"Sound as the pound," Stefan said. Matti and Giles stared at him, open-mouthed.
"We'll go just after sunrise," Matti said to the librarian, casting a quick warning glance at Stefan. "We're going in as fast and hard as we can, then we're hustling the Seal back here and calling the Knights. Mr. Giles-" Matti held up her clenched fists in front of her "-I promise you that I will protect her with my life. Trust me, please, we cannot keep this from being dangerous, but I will not take any unnecessary risks."
"That's what I'm here for." Stefan winked. "What? Jesus, people, it's called gallows humor for a reason."
"Buffy, how many times have I told you not to play with your food?" Xander wagged his finger at the Slayer, who offered a weak smile in return.
"I know what you're trying to do," she said. "But… just don't, okay?"
"Sorry." Xander dropped his head.
Buffy put her fork down on her tray. "I need to ask a big favor."
The Scoobies exchanged looks, then Oz spoke for the group: "Ask."
Buffy folded her hands on the table, mainly to hide the shaking. "Could you… could you guys watch my mom tomorrow." She continued in a rush. "I don't think there's any real danger, we're going after the sun's up, but I just… I would feel better if someone was with her, so… would you?" She winced.
"Sure," Xander said. "We… we'd be glad to."
Oz nodded. "Mmm-hmm."
"Yeah," Cordelia said. "You need somebody in your life who knows how to accessorize."
The trio turned to Willow, whose eyes bulged as she stammered, "I… I… I c-c-can't, uh-"
"No, Willow can't do it," the Slayer said quickly. "I need her to, uh, to do that thing she does and, uh, report on the Seal in real time. She'll, she'll have to be in the library, with Giles."
Willow nodded quickly. "Yeah, I need to do that, the thing Buffy said."
The three Slayerettes stared at her, then Xander shrugged and said, "Yeah, that sounds important."
Cordelia closed her locker door and turned around. She caught an eye watering flash of aquamarine-colored nylon, then realized that it was another pair of those track pants that Casey Porter always wore. The slender sophomore was passing by on the opposite side of the hall. Their eyes met, and Casey offered a shy demi-wave. Cordelia smiled and shook her head, then realized that someone was following the girl. It might have seemed innocent to anyone else, but Cordelia's finely-honed sensitivity to stalker behavior sounded like an alarm bell. She pushed away from her locker and deftly worked her way through the tide of students, caught up to the stalked, then swung around in front of him.
"Hey," she said, "what are you- Wait a minute, you're Willow's little friend."
"Huh? What?" the rail-thin boy stammered. "No, I don't-"
"Oh, please, you sat at the same table as me, and… Oh, oh." Cordelia held out a hand. "Listen, I know that we're all nervous about this thing, but you've got to act normal. You can't just wander the hall tailing random girls."
"I don't have any-"
Cordelia leaned forward. "I know, Willow probably told you to act like you don't know anything, and I'm fine with that, but try to relax. You guys don't really have that big a job tomorrow."
The boy squinted for a moment, then his face relaxed. "Yeah, you're right, tomorrow's the day. I'll, uh, I'll… try to… do better."
"It's okay," Cordelia said in what she was sure was a reassuring tone. "It's your first time, but we've all been through this before. Just do what Willow tells you and you'll be fine." She shook her head. "God, that sounded weird."
Matti parked the 4Runner on the concrete driveway and switched off the engine. "Thanks for the ride," Buffy said, arranging the large rolls of paper in her arms. "I wasn't crazy about walking over here carrying this."
Stefan opened the door. "Mi casa es su casa." His home was a small bungalow that was neat in a way that implied less diligent cleaning and more the absence of homey activities that created clutter. They walked directly to the dining room.
"Angel says that the Seal is in City Hall." Buffy unrolled the floorplans on the table.
Stefan twirled a pencil between his fingers. "And how does he know that?"
"He knows a guy."
"He trusts this guy?" Stefan flipped the pencil into the air, caught it, and resumed twirling.
"Not trust trust, but the guy's trying to cover his ass. He wants to be in good with whichever side comes out on top. So… Angel doesn't trust him, but he believes him."
Stefan nodded. "Makes sense. The Mayor would want to keep it close at hand, and the perfect place to store it is City Hall. Little too perfect, actually. There's a safe in there that's way bigger and stronger than anything Sunnydale city government needs."
Matti and Buffy stared at him. "You know this how?" Matti asked.
Stefan shrugged. "I'm a good citizen. I've already asked about getting my California driver's license. Also had questions about my utilities. You'd be amazed how much scouting you can do when everyone wants to hand you off to another department." He tapped the plans. "It's here, in the Records Room, next door to…" He looked up.
"The Mayor's office." Buffy nodded.
"So, City Hall it is." Hollis turned onto her street. "Direct assault?"
"Good to go," Warner replied.
"Whoa, whoa." Buffy planted both hands on the table and leaned forward. "You want to go straight in the front door?"
Warner glanced back at her. "It's the quickest way."
"It's also the most suicide-y way."
"Think about it." Matti folded her arms. "How many times have you guys tried to sneak into the bad guys' lair?"
Buffy considered. "A lot."
"Ever make it in and out undetected?"
Buffy opened her mouth, closed it, then glanced sideways. "Touche."
"And we're under a real time crunch." Stefan tapped the blueprints. "Take too long, we lose. Turn down the wrong hallway, we lose. No margin for error at all, so no options. Straight in. Death or glory."
"You're a regular Stuart Smalley," Buffy said, turning back to the plans. "So, what do we do? Pick the lock? Climb in a window?"
"Oh, no," Warner said. "We won't have time." He leaned back in the chair and smiled. "Only one way in."
Matti shook her head. "God."
"It makes sense," Stefan said. "I hit it at the right angle, I can jam the Expedition in the entryway and use it as a barricade."
"Wait a minute." Buffy leaned forward between the front seats. "You're gonna just drive through the front door?"
"C'mon, it's what that baby was made for," Warner said.
"It's pretty obvious, don't you think? Won't it just call attention to us?"
Warner leaned forward and tapped on the table for emphasis. "There are three possible outcomes to our little caper. One, the Mayor succeeds, we are all dead, and Sunnydale is a weird Brandenburg gate between earth and hell. Two, the Mayor somehow does not succeed, but Sunnydale is left a smoking hole in the earth. Three, we somehow foil his plan and survive after God knows what. Now, I don't see how, in any of those scenarios, anyone cares about the condition of the lobby of Sunnydale City Hall. Plus, it's fast, efficient, and fun."
"He gets a little full of himself," Matti said. She tapped the paper, then looked at Stefan. "Are you thinking about using the tunnels for the getaway?"
"Definitely." He chewed on the eraser end of the pencil.
"The tunnels?" Buffy was incredulous. "Isn't that where the bad guys are?"
"Going in, the bad guys will be coming from every direction, according to your own information. Going out, if we can punch through one group, they'll be behind us." Stefan took the pencil from his mouth and began tracing the damp eraser idly over the floorplan. "The tunnels work to our advantage going out. They'll be chasing us. If we can pop through, they'll be chasing us and can only come from one direction, and in an enclosed space."
Buffy shook her head and pulled out the schematics for the sewer tunnels. "Courtesy of Willow," she said, unrolling the paper.
"Look at that," Matti said. "There's an egress on three sides of city hall."
"All four." Stefan leaned forward and tapped with an index finger. "That's a phone switching shed. Who needs one of those?" He leaned back, a smile on his face.
"Did you find that out on your visits to City Hall?" Matti asked.
"Yes. Yes, I did."
Buffy pointed to the map. "Most direct line to the school is this one." Her finger rested on a manhole cover at the southeast corner of the City Hall parking lot.
"Most direct and most obvious." Stefan rested his elbows on the table. "You said these guys aren't too bright, right?"
"I was assured that they aren't the monster Mensa," Buffy replied.
"If we can find a way to make them think we're over here when we're actually over there, could make a breakout easier." Stefan looked at Matti, a question in his eyes.
"Okay. We go in at seven-fifteen, that's well after sunup." Matti knocked her knuckles on the table. "We blow the safe, find the Seal-"
"If it's there," Buffy said.
Matti held up a hand. "No negative thoughts now. We find the Seal, create a diversion in the southeast tunnel…" She looked at Stefan. "Grenades?"
He nodded. "Drop two down the well, they go boom, our buddies run toward the disturbance, we go down the northwest egress, up the line to here, turn right, straight on 'til morning."
Buffy shook her head, confused. "Wait… blow the safe? Grenades?"
Stefan held up a hand and left the room. He returned in a few minutes and placed two objects on the table. One looked like a swollen version of the stick-on rhinestones sold at a kiosk at the mall; the other was a gray sphere sporting a stubby paddle-shaped lever. "Empowered focus," he said, pointing to the rhinestone. "Tremendous amount of kinetic energy held in place by magic. Trust me, it'll take the door right off that safe."
"And most of the plaster off the walls," Matti muttered.
Stefan ignored her. "Silver salt grenade. Actually has iron filings in it, too. Flip the trigger, it's a five-second fuse."
"Oookay," Buffy said slowly. "Looks like you packed toys for this play date."
"We are professionals." Matti crossed her arms. "After we get into the tunnels and are past whatever perimeter is down there, Stefan and I will set up a rearguard defense. You will haul ass back to the library and give the Seal to Giles. We will rendezvous with you there. Got it?"
Buffy's eyes drifted over the blueprints. "Consider it got."
"Yeah, we're supposed to be at City Hall at seven-thirty, so if you can be at the police station before that, you guys can already be inside and get her as soon as it starts to go down. I've already talked to Angel. He'll meet you there." Buffy examined the nails on her free hand. "Thank you, Will. Thank you so much. I'll… I'll see you at the library after it's all over." She hung up.
"So, tomorrow's a big day?" Joyce stood in the doorway, trying to appear nonchalant, but the pallor around her tightly-clenched lips betrayed her tension.
The Slayer met her mother's eyes for a moment, then her gaze slid away. "Uh-huh. I've gotta be at Ms. Hollis's house at six-thirty."
Joyce nodded. "I'll drive you."
"Mom, you don't-"
Joyce raised a hand, her eyes shut tight. "I don't have any powers, or any way to contribute to whatever this is, but I'm your mother, and… I will give you a ride in the morning."
Buffy nodded shortly, went to her mother, and hugged her. "Thanks, mom. I, uh, I gotta get to bed."
Buffy came down the stairs, yawning. She had actually slept soundly, as though her body realized there was nothing more to be done and simply shut down. Joyce stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway. "Do you want anything to eat?" she asked.
The Slayer shook her head. "Nice try at normal, but… not really." She blinked and took a deep breath. She had dressed for utility: cargo pants and a black long-sleeved T over her old hiking boots. She exchanged a long look with her mother. "We should probably just go."
Joyce nodded and picked up her car keys.
The Jeep bounced as it turned into the driveway. Buffy got out and gaped in surprise as Matti came out of the house swaddled in a fluffy terrycloth robe and slides. She waved the Slayer toward the front porch as she went around to the driver's side of the vehicle. Buffy shook her head and went up the sidewalk, her head spinning. The door opened as she stepped up on the porch. Stefan Warner was already inside.
The Slayer stared at the history teacher. He wore a black T-shirt and black BDU pants. A handgun rode on each thigh in a drop-leg holster. Spare magazines were tucked into compartments on one side of his belt; stubby shotgun shells rode on the other side. Said shotgun hung barrel-up in a holster along his spine, the modified grip just above his belt line. Two knives were strapped to his left forearm. Buffy's mouth opened and closed as she searched for something to say.
The door closed behind her. She turned to see Matti peel off the robe, revealing an outfit identical to Stefan's, except her pants were rolled to the knee and her feet were bare. Buffy looked toward the sofa and spotted a pair of tactical boots, thick woolen socks stuffed inside. Matti sat down as Stefan began packing a medium-sized black nylon duffel bag.
"What?" Matti said as she laced up the boots. "Your mom didn't need to see me dressed up like Rambo. Her day'll be hard enough." The gym teacher stood up. "We need to make sure of a few things." She reached down to the couch and began to struggle into a shotgun rig identical to Stefan's. "Be sure–"
"You know, guns don't hurt demons," Buffy said.
Matti rolled her shoulders, settling the harness, then pulled a shell out of her belt. "This is a phosphorous slug. When it's exposed to air, it burns. Last I checked, fire does hurt most of these chumps." She held up one of the spare pistol magazines. "Rounds modeled after the Glaser Safety Slug. Bullet is a steel-silver alloy, the cavity holds a mixture of garlic resin and consecrated oil. It may not kill most supernatural beasties, but it will hurt like hell."
"My bad," the Slayer mumbled.
"Now, if I can finish…" Matti opened her eyes wide. "All right. We each have one phosphorous round in the tube, then one behind it. You be sure and stay behind us. When I say it burns, it burns everything, including you, if it gets on you. Do not let that happen. After that, all the rounds are silver flechettes."
Buffy's forehead furrowed. "Flechettes?"
"Think five hundred silver needles," Stefan said.
"Oh," Buffy said. "What's that?" She pointed at Matti's belt. The Knight reached behind back and pulled out a stainless-steel revolver, the cylinder unfluted.
"This," Matti said, "is a Ruger ASP .44 Special."
"Doesn't look very big," the Slayer said.
"Only holds five shots."
"That won't stop many bad guys."
Matti looked into Buffy's eyes; the teacher's face was deadly quiet. "It's for very close range… and the last one's not for the bad guys." She reholstered the gun at the small of her back. Buffy gulped as the meaning became clear.
"Well, that was dramatic," Stefan said "What do you want to carry? We've got an extra shotgun. Or would you rather have an MP5?"
Buffy shook her head. "Oh, no, no guns. I mean, nothing against you guys, you look… very comfortable, but I don't know anything about them."
Stefan cocked his head. "Then what were you planning on carrying?"
Buffy reached into her waistband at the small of her back and held out two stakes. "These usually work."
Stefan shook his head. "Nope." He went down the stairs to the basement; the Slayer could hear him rummaging around, then his steps coming up the stairs. He came back into the living room, a black lacquered box in his arms. "Here." He handed it to her.
Buffy lifted the lid. A slightly curved scabbard, the wood a match for the box's exterior, lay inside on a bed of ivory satin. Buffy felt light-headed: A sword. Not a sword. Can't be a sword. She thrust it back toward the Knight. "I can't… I just can't."
"No, you can," he said, pushing it back. "You're not walking in there holding two sticks."
"You can't stop me," she said.
"I know," he said, "but the fight would take time, which we don't have, so just take it."
Buffy reluctantly took the hilt and slid the blade out a few inches. The gleaming steel of the katana reflected starbursts of light into her eyes. She looked at Stefan. "I'd like to kick your ass."
"I hope you have the chance," he said. "It'll mean we lived."
Willow slipped out of the house at the beginning of the golden hour; the sun hadn't yet risen, but the air was already suffused with light. She closed the door carefully. It wouldn't do to accidentally wake the parents today. Sunnydale at this hour looked one of those weird post-apocalyptic towns, where someone had killed all the people, but left the buildings untouched, or like one of that episode of Eerie, Indiana, "The Lost Hour", where the girl was trapped in the Daylight Savings time hour, in the same place as everyone, but in a different–
Willow shook her head. Snap out of it. She almost giggled. Thinking about Eerie, Indiana? Using it as a point of comparison, when she was on her way to help a real-life vampire break a real-life vampire slayer out of jail, to try and stop another vampire from conspiring with the Mayor to… Willow shook her head: just thinking about it's enough to make you paranoid. She glanced around, but saw only empty streets. The shiver up her spine was just nerves. She continued walking, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her green fuzzy sweater.
She came across Weatherly Park, still feeling that weird itch between her shoulder blades. The east edge of the park butted up against the rear parking area of the police station. She stopped behind a tree. Angel was supposed to meet her, but he wouldn't be outside… the sun was up.
"What's going on?"
Willow clapped both hands over her mouth and stifled a scream. "What are you doing?" she hissed.
"Following you," Tyler said.
Willow stared at him, struck by the absurdity and the tragedy of the situation. "Well, why are you doing that?"
He shrugged. "Your idiot friend let it slip that you were doing somethin' big today. Since you never said anything, I thought I'd try to find out myself."
Willow looked around, exasperated. "You were waiting outside my house? Since when?"
"Oh, I hadn't been there very long."
"You've got to go," Willow said. "You have to leave right now." She pointed back toward the park."
His eyes followed her arm all the way out to the end of her index finger and back. "Why?"
"Why?" Willow actually stamped her foot on the ground. "Because this is dangerous."
"You're here."
"Yes, but–"
"Well, I'm not goin' anywhere."
Willow felt herself growing dizzy with the knowledge of passing time. "You need to leave. I'm going into the police station." She turned around and looked at the building. She could see three doors, all of them featureless gray steel panels. No helpful labels, no sign reading This One, Willow. She felt herself beginning to hyperventilate.
"That one on the left's propped open," Tyler said, pointing. Willow looked; the door was ever so slightly ajar.
"Okay, thanks," she said. "Now, you have to leave."
"You can't make me," he said.
Willow shook her head. "I have no time for this." She hurried across the parking area, red hair flying behind her. A rock no bigger than a marble had been jammed between the door and the frame. She yanked the door open, and inspiration struck her. She skipped across the threshold, then turned and yanked at the push bar. The pneumatic closer defeated her; the resistance was just enough for Tyler to scamper inside. His smile was so infuriating, she wanted to slap him. Instead, she turned and stalked down the hall, staying alert for any approaching footsteps. Halfway down the hall, a door suddenly opened. Willow recoiled; Tyler's mouth opened to yell, but a hand shot out, grabbed the front of his shirt, and yanked him in before any sound came out.
"What is he doing here?" Angel asked.
"Don't ask." Willow shook her head. She looked around; the room was a small area full of electrical breakers, routing boxes, and gauges.
Angel glowered at the boy, who showed his first signs of good sense and looked scared. "Get out."
Willow turned around. "We can't do that. He can't wander the halls, and even if he goes right back out…" She shrugged.
Angel fumed, then turned to the skinny kid. "If you do anything, what I showed you in the basement will be a walk in the park." Tyler nodded quickly, but the realization that he was not about to have his head plucked from his shoulders seemed to buoy his spirits a little. Angel pointed at what looked like a plain hollow-core door beside an industrial-sized breaker box. "There are stairs. They go down."
Willow wrenched the door open and realized that appearances were deceiving: the door was solid steel. Angel in the lead, they went down, but encountered no one. They reached a small chamber at the bottom with another door in the opposite wall. Angel listened at the door, shook his head, pointed at Willow, pointed at the door, then grasped the sturdy knob, put his shoulder to the door, and pushed.
Joyce Summers nearly fainted when the doorbell rang. She stood up quickly, took a minute to control her breathing, then opened the door.
"Hey, Mrs. S." Xander stood on the porch. Cordelia and Oz stood behind him, looking slightly uncomfortable.
"Hello… Xander." Joyce frowned, puzzled.
"Yeah, we can come in." Xander crossed the threshold. Cordelia followed, looking down in embarrassment. Oz stopped in front of her.
"Thanks," he said.
"Xander… Cordelia… What are you doing here?"
"What?" Xander said, clapping his hands together. "We can't come over and hang out with our buddy Buffy's mom?"
"Not on a Saturday, not without it seeming weird, no," Joyce said. "Does this have anything to do with where Buffy is now?"
"Yeah," Oz said. "She asked to watch out for you."
Joyce looked both alarmed and perplexed. "Why? Am I in danger?"
Cordelia shook her head. "Not really."
"How can you be sure?" Joyce asked.
Cordelia jerked a thumb at Xander. "She asked him to be part of it."
"Hey!" Xander said. "Uncool."
"You'd know," Cordelia muttered. "Listen, Mrs. Summers, do you have anything we could use as, like, weapons, if we needed to?"
Joyce looked stunned. "I don't… in the garage, maybe."
"Great," said Cordelia. "I'll go look."
Faith raised her head as the hinges rasped slightly. She breathed fast, waiting for her tormentors to enter the room. Instead, the door flew open, bounced off the wall, and rebounded. A slender hand caught it. Willow pushed the door open and looked around, her eyes taking in the bulb in a wire cage bolted to the ceiling, the only illumination in the freezing room. In the center of the room was the cube of steel bars, the bed frame welded in the middle of the cell. Faith stood by the bed frame, shackled to it by the thick chain and manacle around her ankle. Her hair was wild and disheveled, her lower lip swollen, and red scratches cross-hatched her body.
"Uh, Faith," Willow mumbled, "you're, uh, you're naked."
"No shit," Faith replied.
"Naked and chained." The speaker was just behind Willow, a skinny kid with jug ears.
"Hey, you enjoyin' the free show, perv?" Faith demanded.
"Kinda," the skinny kid said.
"You let me out of here, I'll kick your ass," Faith snarled.
"You might try," he retorted.
"Yeah? What'll you do?" Faith asked.
His chin rose in defiance. "I might run like hell."
There was a beat of silence, then Faith snorted, a muffled laugh that, for the most part, went up her nose. "Okay, beanpole, you got wicked big balls, I'll give you that."
"Okay," Angel said, stepping inside, "we need-" He saw Faith, stopped short, and swallowed.
"Hello to you, too," she said. "Everybody gettin' a good look?"
"Uh… uh…" Angel stuttered.
Willow put a hand on his arm. "Why don't you go find some clothes?" Angel nodded and stumbled out of the room. Willow bent down to examine the cage's substantial lock. "Okay," she said. "I'm gonna try something."
"What?" Faith rattled her chain and glared at Beanpole.
"You might wanna step back." Willow nodded toward Tyler, then leaned slightly toward the cage The weird skinny kid put his hand on her shoulder. Willow's head shook, her eyes went cloudy and unfocused. As she stood there, bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks and sweat beaded at her hairline. Faith backed away to the far corner of the cage, to the maximum length of the chain. Willow's head shivered, and a series of grinding pops and clunks issued from the lock. The metal wavered, then buckled, and, with a final clunk, the mechanism popped open. The door swung free. Beanpole slowly removed his hand and Willow's vision cleared.
"Whoa," Faith said. "Impressive."
"Oh," Willow said, "it was, it was-" she stumbled and went to one knee "-whoo… it was nothing." She took a couple of deep breaths. "Gimme a minute and I'll try… whew." She pointed at the cuff around Faith's ankle.
"Jeez," Faith said. "This is all you could find?"
"They don't keep a lost-and-found box. That's it." Angel's speech was clipped as he swiveled his head, alert for any sounds of company.
"You pay any attention to sizes?"
Angel glanced at her quickly. "Not really."
Willow half-stood, slouched against the wall, her face an even whiter shade of pale than usual. She looked at Faith. The dark slayer wore a bright yellow smock and matching tie-waist scrub pants. A light-gray stripe ran down the shoulders of the smock and the outseam of the pants. Sunnydale PD was lettered on the front and back of the smock and down the leg of the pants in the same pale gray. Both garments were too large. Faith rolled up the legs of the pants and yanked the drawstring tight, then slipped her feet into shower shoes Angel had brought. They were too small. The dark Slayer kicked them away.
"You couldn't find any underwear?" she asked.
Angel licked his lips. "I-I-I didn't really… I don't think… I mean…" he stammered.
"Okay, thanks, tall, dark, and fumbling. We're square." She turned away.
"Where do you think you're going?" Willow snapped, pushing herself upright. She stumbled slightly and steadied herself by placing one hand on the wall.
Faith laughed. "I'm outta here."
Willow's eyes widened. "The end of the world is coming! We broke you out to help!"
Faith's eyes hardened. "My world already ended, and I didn't ask you to come to my rescue. I don't think I owe you shit. Bye bye."
Willow licked her lips. "Trick will be there."
Faith turned back. "What?"
Willow swallowed. "Giles has something he needs. Trick is going to try and get it back. You want payback, it'll be at the library."
"I have no idea what's goin' on," Tyler said. Angel tapped him on the shoulder and gave him the 'be quiet' sign.
Faith leaned in close to Willow. "If this is a lie, if you're yankin' my chain, I am gonna come at you like Cam Neely."
"I have no idea what that means." Willow tried to keep her voice from shaking. "But if you want Trick, you'll come with us."
"Ladies," Angel leaned in close, "time's wasting. We have to go."
Faith stared into Willow's eyes for a breathless, crackling minute. "Okay," she said at last, "I'm in."
Willow exhaled in a rush. "Let's go." She staggered toward the stairs, but Faith was already ahead of her. Angel and Tyler hurried to keep up.
"Is anyone gonna tell me what's goin' on?" Tyler panted. Angel shook his head.
"No time," he said. "It wouldn't make sense anyway."
The Expedition idled at the curb. The side street dead-ended at Revello at about a forty-five degree angle from the front door of City Hall. The Knights were in the front seats; Buffy occupied the rear passenger seat. The sword was in its scabbard beside her and the duffel bag was bungee-corded in the cargo compartment behind her. "What's in there?" Buffy asked.
Matti looked over the seat. "Extra ammo. Grenades. Two MP5s." She handed a small plastic case to the Slayer. "Earplugs. Put 'em in. You'll appreciate having your hearing." Buffy stuffed the silicone stubs into her ears. Matti pointed toward the cargo area. "Right behind the seat, there's a big pillow. Put on your seatbelt, lie down in the seat, and hold the pillow over you. Stay loose."
Buffy pursed her lips, then nodded. "Okay, just let me strap in." She clicked her seatbelt and fell back in the seat, the pillow over her upper body, the sword held in her left hand. "Ready when you are."
Stefan's face split in a wide grin."Gentlemen, start your engines." He held the brake pedal down and mashed the accelerator; Buffy felt and heard the massive V-8 engine howling as it was held back, smelled the burning rubber as the tires spun.
Matti braced herself and looked over at him. "I cannot believe you get to do this."
Warner winked. "Yee haw," he said, and lifted his foot off the brake. Two tons of steel, glass, aluminum, and plastic shot forward.
Buffy was jolted in the back seat as the SUV jumped the curb, mashed down in the cushion as it slammed down on the street, then tossed in the air when it hit the far curb. There was a sickening moment of vertigo as the enormous vehicle went airborne, a thunderous impact as it landed on the parking lot, then the world went sideway, blurry and whiplashed, a cacophony of squeals and crashes, the air filled with flying pellets of shattered safety glass, the seat belt biting into her waist, a moment of supernatural quiet and clarity, then the air filled with steam and dust as the passenger door screeched open, framing Matti Hollis.
"Out now!" the Knight barked, stepping aside and deftly pulling her shotgun from the holster. The Slayer shook her head, and bailed out, feeling the sword in her hand. She reflexively slipped the scabbard's strap over her shoulder, then stumbled slightly and looked around at the weird scene.
The foyer was amazingly well-lit: knocking down the front door let in a lot of sun, which filtered through the floating dust and wafting steam to create a silvery haze. The Expedition sat at an angle, the rear still wedged in the shattered door frame, the hood reaching almost to the far wall. A single fluorescent light dangled by its cables, which let go and sent it spiraling to the floor to shatter into millions of sparks and tiny shards.
Stefan limped slightly as he headed toward the target room. The duffel bag was open, he already had the foci with him. Buffy looked around, heart pounding with adrenaline, ready to destroy a foe that wasn't there... yet. She whirled, looking for Matti, who had taken a position just behind the crumpled front fender of the Expedition.
"Stay frosty. Watch my back," the Knight ordered. Buffy shook her head, incongruously amazed that the earplugs actually worked; Matti's voice was slightly muffled, but intelligible– "Buffy!" Matti snapped. "Look sharp."
The Slayer nodded and turned to watch the hall that led toward the back of the building. As she did so, Stefan ran out of the records room, pushing his hands toward the floor and yelling, "Down! Down!"
Without thinking, Buffy obeyed the order, feeling gritty bits of broken brick and shattered safety glass bite into her stomach. There was a massive crump, not the sound of a normal explosion, but of a giant aluminum can being crushed. Buffy felt an enormous wave of energy push at her, then pull, actually sliding her a few inches toward the door, then Stefan was up and back into the room.
The quartet crept down the hallway. The station was weirdly quiet, which made the sound of approaching footsteps quite disconcerting. Two men came around the corner; one carried a shotgun, the other a long cattle prod. They stopped short when they saw the foursome standing in the hall. Faith stepped forward, a slow smile growing on her face.
"Hello, boys," she said.
"Okay," Willow said slowly, "I think we can beat a strategic retreat–" Faith screamed and launched herself forward "-or we can do that." Willow shook her head.
"Jesus," Tyler whispered. The shotgun began to rise. It never made it to the guard's shoulder. Faith covered the short distance at a mad run, grabbed the shaft of the electric prod, kneed the guard in the balls, and head-butted him in the same motion. He collapsed like a sack of flour, or tried to. Faith grabbed the front of his shirt and rammed him into Shotgun, who stumbled backwards and fell. Faith stepped over Cattle Prod and aimed one powerful stomp at Shotgun's head. He was lucky she was barefoot; her Doc Marten would have split his skull. His head bounced off the concrete floor, just in time to catch the butt of the shotgun, which Faith had grabbed by its barrel, full in the mouth. As he hacked up blood and shattered teeth, Faith snatched up the cattle prod. She held it aloft and depressed the button, watching the electricity arc.
"Remember?" she said. "My turn."
"Here they come!" Matti screamed. The Slayer scrambled to her feet and her hand went back over her shoulder for the sword. From behind her, she heard the flat boom as Matti opened up with her shotgun. Buffy risked a quick glance at the entryway and saw a Hieronymous Bosch vision of day-glo hell: sparks of white phosphorus burned bright orange, bodies had already hit the floor, some in flames; one target of the phosphorus rounds staggered away down the hall, fire engulfing its head, which made its hair appear to be… snakes? Or was the 'hair' really snakes that were on fire? Buffy pushed the question out of her mind and turned back to her post, just in time for four assorted no-goods to push through the doorway into the foyer.
'Muscle, not brains' was an apt descriptor. They came straight at the Slayer, who dispatched them quickly, with only a splattering of ichor to trouble her. She wiped a glob of the gunk from her eyebrow as Stefan came out of the records room. He had a small black nylon zipper bag in his hand; he thrust it at Buffy.
"Is that it?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Seems like you should hold it." Buffy nodded and stuffed the small bag into the pocket of her pants. Stefan turned toward the back hallway as more assailants rounded the corner, probably forty feet away. He fired his shotgun from the hip, the two phosphorus slugs breaking apart as they hit the first rank and turning the hallway into a smoky, burning inferno. Buffy remembered the warning that phosphorus burned everything. She gripped her sword, but the demons in the second rank backed up, their flesh shredded by silver needles, as their compatriots burned. The smoldering husks collapsed, breaking apart on impact. The demons in the back pushed forward, the wounded in the front spilling into the hall. Stefan fired two more flechette rounds into the hazy smoke and raised his voice. "Matti! Time to go!" Matti nodded, then all hell broke loose.
"Faith," Willow said, approaching the dark Slayer cautiously, "I think that's enough. They passed out a while ago, and you're going to use all the battery."
Faith jerked her head around, teeth bared, her eyes wide and staring. For a moment, Willow felt the thrill of fear, but then Faith shuddered, and her cocky grin replaced the snarl.
"Yeah," she said. "Enough appetizers. Time to go find the main course." She tossed away the prod. It clattered on the tiles. "Speaking of which, anyone else feel like fried chicken?" She shook herself, then eyeballed the two unconscious guards, reached down and yanked off one's shoes. She stuffed her feet in and turned around. "Little big, but better than runnin' barefoot in the street." She headed for the exit.
"You might–" Willow caught herself. "You might pick that up," she said to Angel, pointing toward the cattle prod. "We could need it."
"What's this?" Cordelia asked. She held up an implement a little over a foot long.
"That's a sledgehammer," Joyce said. She perched on the edge of her armchair, clasping her hands to hide the trembling.
"Really?" Cordelia examined the orange handle. "It's a little one."
"I use it to open crates at the gallery," Joyce said, sounding a little dazed.
"These look pretty useful," Xander said, holding up a set of hedge clippers.
"For what?" Joyce asked, her intonation rising.
"You know," Xander said, and made a stabby motion. Joyce put her head in her hands.
A larger group of demons appeared at the end of the front hallway, coming fast. Matti pulled two of the silver salt grenades from her belt, flipped the triggers, and lobbed them down the hall; she ducked behind the Expedition's fender and was already jamming shells into her shotgun as they bounced on the floor. Buffy realized she was still standing and dropped to a crouch as the grenades detonated. Shrapnel flew over her head, squeals of pain echoed…
Squeals of pain coming from the wrong direction! Buffy tore her eyes away from the entry and saw another group erupting from the doorway behind her. Stefan rolled onto his back and worked the slide of his shotgun at blinding speed. The weapon roared three times; she could see the silver needles slicing through the first demons. Stefan rolled to the side and his shotgun boomed again and again. Buffy watched, wide-eyed, as the silver flechettes did their thing, both perforating and burning supernatural flesh. The shotgun's reports ceased, and Buffy shook herself from her stupor and leaped forward. The first two demons were easy; they were mad with pain from the flechettes, and the effect of the silver on their bodies let the sword slide through them like a knife through butter. She swung and stabbed, swung and stabbed, but there were so many…
"Buffy! Clear!" She didn't know who yelled it, but she listened. The Slayer fell back and pushed off, bowing back and planting her left hand to execute a one-handed cartwheel. She landed on the balls of her feet, the katana in her right hand. It was unnecessary.
Stefan rolled to one knee; this placed him at an almost ninety-degree angle from Matti. She turned and both Knights opened up. The thunder of their weapons was a physical slap at Buffy's torso, spots danced before her eyes from the muzzle blasts. The demon dead filled the doorway and sprawled into the hall. Matti looked over the Expedition's hood. "Incoming!" she shouted. She fired until the shotgun's slide locked open, then dropped her weapon and reached into the gym bag. Her hand came out holding the MP5, and she opened up down the hall. One clip and the wave was broken; demons that weren't dead were dying.
"Okay," Angel said, "you guys have to get to the school as quickly as possible. I'll get there as soon as I can."
"Should we go now?" Willow said. "What if somebody's outs-" The whump of an explosion shook the building, followed by rapid gunshots.
"I think that'll draw the attention away," Faith said. "C'mon."
Stefan fired into the mass of monsters that had reappeared in the door. His shotgun locked open, empty. He drew one of his pistols and shouted "Buffy!" The Slayer nodded and leaped to the duffel bag, reached in and pulled out the other MP5, turned to toss it to him…
And froze. The demons, ghouls, and goblins had poured through the door. She was cut off from Stefan. She heard the oddly small report of his handgun and saw clawed hands rising and falling, then she dropped the submachine gun and leaped forward, sword already swinging. She hacked and thrust, trying to dodge the blows aimed her way, not always succeeding. She finally cut through the last of the attackers separating her from the Knight.
Stefan was bleeding from… everywhere, it seemed. Most of it on his face seemed to come from a long slash across his forehead, just below the hairline, blood dripped from his hands and saturated his shirt. The USP Compact was still in his right, slide locked open. He met her eyes, then crumpled to his knees and fell forward onto his face. Buffy stared at him for a moment, her breath panting, then rushed back to Matti, who stared over the Expedition down a hall of dead foes. The Slayer grabbed the Knights shoulder and pointed. They both turned…
And saw a looming behemoth standing over Stefan. Buffy vaguely recognized him from pictures in the paper; he was always with the Mayor, some kind of personal security. The pictures hadn't done his bulk justice; he seemed to fill the entire hallway. He must have been waiting in the Mayor's office, maybe some kind of fail-safe. His expression was flat and blank. He flexed his hands, bowing his shoulders, flexing slightly. He kicked Stefan's legs out of the way and took a step toward them. Matti Hollis shouted "No!" Her right hand darted to her left forearm, then flashed forward. Buffy heard a sharp buzz, then a whump.
Nicholas stared down at the knife protruding from his massive chest. He grasped the hilt with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and, with great deliberation, pulled it out. He scrutinized it for a moment, watching it dangle between digits the size of a Fourth of July bratwurst, then, with an almost nonchalant flick of his hand, he threw it back.
Buffy heard the buzz again, followed by a wet thwock and Matti Hollis screaming. The Slayer turned her head. Hollis was trying to fall down, but the blade that passed through the bicep of her right arm and into the sheet metal of the Expedition's fender held her quasi-upright.
Buffy turned back to the grim, silent figure of the Mayor's chief of security. "I guess that makes it you and me," she said. There was no sign that he heard her. She shifted her weight, trying to plan an attack, feeling the grit beneath her feet, the sweat trickling down her face. She feinted to her right; the giant's left hand shot out with uncanny speed. Buffy drove a kick to his exposed chest. The shock of impact vibrated up her leg and rattled her teeth. Nicholas grabbed at her foot, managing to get a swipe at her heel. The contact flipped Buffy onto her back. She scrambled up, keeping a wary eye on her opponent, and barely maintained a grip on her sword. She feinted with the blade and slashed upward, but he leaned back and the strike whistled past. Great, he was big and scary fast. The giant took a step forward and widened his base, his tree-trunk arms swelling.
Stefan Warner rolled onto his back and emptied his other pistol into Nicholas's groin at point-blank range. The enormous man looked down. He did not appear to be in pain; rather, he seemed more pissed-off that someone was firing a gun at his nads. His right hand flashed down and grabbed Warner's hair.
Buffy's hyper-acute central nervous system flooded with adrenaline. Everything seemed to move in crystal-clear slow motion. Her right hand reached back with the katana as Nicholas grabbed Warner under the jaw with his left hand. The sound of the teacher's neck snapping was preternaturally loud; his head turned at least 110 degrees. A nasty smile of satisfaction crossed the giant's face as he raised his head.
Buffy brought the katana back so far that its chisel point tapped the ground behind her left foot, then she whipped it around in one fluid motion, the action so fast that it looked as if she stood at the hub of a silver wheel. She felt the slightest hitch in her motion, the blade twitch in her hand. The momentum of the stroke carried her around until her upper body was twisted, the right shoulder pointing at her assailant. The tip of the blade struck a chunk of broken concrete; sparks flew. Nicholas looked at her with that same flat stare.
Shit, she thought, I missed.
Those black eyes glared at her for another heart beat, then his chin lifted. A red line opened at his throat, a line that became a spurting geyser as his head toppled backward. His body wavered, then collapsed forward. Buffy stared, mesmerized, rooted to the floor. The scarlet spray splattered her and she jumped, the moment broken. She was suddenly aware of the acrid sulfur smell of gunfire, the coppery odor of new blood, and the overpowering stench of whatever it was that spilled out of demons.
She dropped the sword and stepped back, trying to avoid the growing pool of gore, and went to Matti Hollis. The gym teacher had pulled the knife free and slumped to the floor. Buffy winced at the thought of doing that. The Knight's back was pressed against the Ford's front wheel. She'd extracted a field dressing from one of the pockets of her pants with a shaking hand. She jerked her arm away when the Slayer tried to touch it.
"We gotta go," Matti gasped, her voice breathy with pain. "Get that to Giles."
"But your arm," Buffy protested. "There might be-"
"We've got to get to the tunnel. I'll hold them off, you get to the school. If any of them are left, they'll want that jewel more than they'll want me. Get your ass moving." Matti tried to open the dressing, but using her left hand, combined with the pain, made the task almost impossible.
"But what will you-"
Hollis groped on the floor and was finally able to locate her pistol. "I'm going to cover you in any way I can, then get his body out of here. Now move. That's not a suggestion." She worked herself into a taller position, her back against the tire, and raised the pistol in her left hand, her right dangling at her side as blood ran from the gaping wound. "Get the bag. Do it now." Sweat beaded her forehead and upper lip. "Hear that? They're coming."
Buffy nodded, then stepped up and grabbed the dressing. She ripped open the packet, folded the pad around the wound, and tied it off as Matti winced.
"Thanks," the surviving Knight of the Cross rasped as she steadied her gun toward the growing commotion. "Now, the bag." Buffy grabbed the black nylon duffel as Matti used the wall to get to her feet. She blinked and swayed. "Take two of the grenades. Drop them down the manhole cover at the southeast corner, then get back here."
Fighting tears, the Slayer went. She pushed past the rear of the Expedition; the manhole cover was just to the right. She pulled the cast-iron cover up, adrenaline lending her even more strength than usual. She stared at the grenades, then flipped the triggers and dropped them down the hole. They exploded behind her as she ran, weaving, back to the busted entryway. Faint screams wafted into the air; she didn't even register them.
Matti had pulled herself away from the vehicle and somehow repacked the bag. She lay face down in the rubble. Empty ammunition clips lay on the floor, the shotguns abandoned. The exertion had cost the Knight; the bandage around her upper arm was already soaked with bright red blood and rivulets trickled from underneath it to her elbow. Buffy skidded to a stop, standing over her. Matti rolled over, her face gray from concrete dust and the pallor of blood loss.
"I'm… I'm gonna need a hand up," she gasped. "Time to go."
Buffy grabbed the duffel bag, then tried, as gently as possible, to use the Knight's good arm to help Matti to her feet. It wasn't very gentle, judging from the gasps and groans. Buffy started to put her shoulder underneath the Knight's arm and had to fight back a hysterical laugh when she realized the height disparity wouldn't allow it. She settled for grabbing Matti around the waist and half-dragging the taller woman to the back door, past the hulking corpse of Nicholas, and the body of Stefan Warner. Buffy pretended she didn't hear the hiccupping sob that Matti uttered as they left the body of her partner where it had fallen. They picked their way through the demonic dead, reached the back door, and paused; the back alley was empty.
"There it is." Matti nodded toward the dummy phone switching station. "Long way away, but… nobody's coming out of it, so…" She sagged against Buffy's arm.
"Let's go." The Slayer pulled and tugged as they stumbled across the asphalt. They reached the shed and Buffy yanked open the door with her left hand. "I don't hear anything."
"Then… let's go." The descent was torturous. The stairs were a tight spiral; it would have been a snug fit for the two of them under the best circumstances. Buffy didn't see how they could make it, but they arrived at the bottom of the iron stairs to an empty tunnel.
"C'mon." Buffy started along the tunnel, Matti stumbling beside her, their progress lurching and erratic. They had covered maybe a hundred yards when the Knight fell out of the Slayer's grasp. Buffy knelt down beside her. "It's not too far to the junction. Just keep moving."
Matti uttered a long, low groan as tears trickled from her squeezed-shut eyes. She opened her eyes and stared into Buffy's face. "You get the Seal to Giles. I'll hold them off as long as I can here."
"No, no." Buffy grabbed the Knight's shoulders. "It's not far."
"C'mon, you can hear them, can't you? They know we're not in the building." Matti's voice was thready with pain. "No way can I get there ahead of them." Her eyes closed.
"But you… you…" Buffy began to cry.
Matti's eyes opened again, and for a brief moment, her voice grew stronger. "I am a Chevalier du Croix, and I chose this life. You can get to the library, I can't. Go."
Buffy struggled to her feet, vision blurry with tears. She opened her mouth, but no words would come, so she turned and stumbled away down the tunnel. Matti listened, and when the footsteps faded, she hooked the handle of the duffle bag with her foot and began to drag herself along the rough concrete.