Willow, Faith, and Tyler pounded up Revello Drive. Faith suddenly stopped short. "There," she said, pointing at an old pickup parked along the curb. "I can hotwire that."
"Faith," Willow cried out, "you're going to steal a car?"
"Really? You're going to worry about that now?" Faith's expression was a study in confusion. "How about I leave a note explaining why we need it?"
"Where would you leave the note?" Tyler asked.
"Cram it, Beanpole." Faith gave him her Clint Eastwood face, then turned back to Willow. "This is faster than walking, plus these shoes aren't doing my feet any favors, so…" She looked at Willow, wide-eyed, and when the redhead didn't respond, yanked the door open, reached under the dashboard, and yanked free a bundle of wires. She pulled two of the wires free, stripped the ends with her teeth, then touched them together. Sparks flashed, the engine rumbled, then died as the pickup lurched forward. "What the fuck?" Faith said. She leaned forward, looking into the foot well.
"Shit," she said, standing up. "It's a standard"
"And?" Willow asked.
Faith clenched her fists in frustration. "I can't drive a standard transmission."
Willow processed this information. "So, you can start it, but you can't drive it?"
"I can." Both girls turned toward Tyler. "Before we moved here, when we lived on the farm, I been drivin' trucks and tractors since I was, probably, eleven."
"Well, now we finally know why you're here," Faith said, a broad smile on her bruised face. "I guess this literally puts you in the driver's seat." She ran around to the passenger's side and climbed in. "You get the hump, Willow!"
"I what?" Willow said, alarmed.
Tyler pointed inside the truck. "The transmission runs under the middle of the seat. She means you get the middle."
"Oh, okay." Willow got in the driver's side door and scooted over. Tyler followed and closed the door.
"Oh, yeah, this is just a three-speed on the column." He pressed in the brake and clutch. "You wanna hit that again?" he said to Faith. The dark Slayer leaned across Willow and grabbed the wires again. This time the engine coughed into life and continued to rumble. With a minimum of clashing gears, he reversed the truck out into the street and took off, weaving a little.
Faith reached out the window and banged her hand on the roof. "Wahoo! Now we're cookin'!"
Buffy stumbled through the sewer tunnel. It was one of the smaller ones; she couldn't stand fully upright. She was running on fumes and inertia; if she stopped, she wouldn't get started again, but she wouldn't stop, couldn't stop. She had to get out of this place, had to see the sun again and try to purge her memory, erase the guilt and helplessness that choked her.
She had turned right at the junction after abandoning Matti; moving at a good clip, she'd gone pretty far along the tunnel, but not far enough. The concussive detonation of the grenades, the stuttering chatter of the MP5, and the growls and screams of the targets had been faint, but clear. The distance had afforded an odd doppler effect as the sound swam past her.
The Slayer had paused, had even started back, until she felt the weight of the stone in her pocket. She'd hesitated, then turned away from the sounds and resumed her journey. Tears and snot ran down her face as the gunshots changed from the staccato crackle of the submachine gun to spaced single shots and, finally, a change in tone from flat, snapping reports to a deeper, more solid boom. One… two… three… four…
When the fifth shot echoed down the tunnel, Buffy had fallen to her knees in the shallow trickle at the bottom of the tunnel and vomited. Now, she staggered on, covered in ichor and blood, gunpowder and sweat, sewage and her own puke.
The pickup bounced over the curb and into the SHS parking lot. Willow suspected that Tyler didn't have nearly as much driving experience as he claimed, but he had gotten them there. He pumped the brakes and Faith yelled, "No! No! Jump the curb! Right up in front of the door!"
"What?" Willow yelled, turning toward the dark Slayer just in time to be thrown into Faith's shoulder as Tyler gunned the engine and the pickup's front end bounded up in the air. He stalled the engine trying to stop, but the truck's grille ended up about three feet from the front door. Faith jumped out of the cab and balanced on first one leg, then the other, as she pulled off the guard's shoes. Barefoot again, she picked up the shoes and hurled them into the parking lot, then yanked open the door to the school. Faith and Willow raced down the hall toward the library as Tyler trailed them, Faith's bare feet slapping on the tiles. Willow pushed open the library doors and shouted "Giles!"
The Watcher appeared in the door of his office and surveyed the trio. "Faith," he said. "I'm… very happy to see you."
The dark Slayer eyed him coolly. "Yeah. Good to see you too, I guess."
The librarian looked at Willow. "Why is he here?"
"You try to make him go home," Willow said.
Giles turned to Tyler. "Young man, you must leave here this instant." The boy stared at the Watcher. Giles pointed toward the door. "Now!" Tyler looked toward the door, then walked over to the table and sat down.
"See?" Willow murmured.
"Now, see here, you can't just… you can't just…" Giles fumed.
"That really showed him," Faith said to the librarian, but he paid her no attention. She realized he was looking past her and turned her head to see a familiar figure enter the room.
"Angel." The librarian seemed on the verge of saying something more.
"Giles," Angel said.
"You're here."
"I came through the tunnels."
Faith clapped her hands. "Well, the repartee here is way over my head. Anyway, Willow said I'd get a shot at Trick. Where is this doodad he wants and when's he coming after it?"
Giles took a deep breath. "Buffy went with Ms. Hollis and Mr. Warner to retrieve the Seal. She is bringing it to us."
Faith stuck her tongue in her cheek. "You sayin' that, or wishin' it?"
"She got out of City Hall with it," Angel said. "I know that. Tunnel gossip." He flexed his hand and winced.
"Are you hurt?" Willow said.
Angel shook his head. "Little surface burn. I didn't cover up quite as well as I should have before I got to the sewers."
"Okay." Faith nodded. "Well, now that we're up to date, what I'm gonna do is head to the gym and see if I can find something a little more… supportive." She winked at Angel, who turned away. Giles frowned and looked at Willow.
"Forget it, Giles," she said as Faith left the room, "it's Chinatown."
"Xander, could you be careful?" Joyce said. "I don't want to seem ungrateful, but these are hardwood floors."
Xander stopped trying to balance the hedge clippers on their point and placed the tool beside him on the sofa. "Do you have any snacks?"
"Snacks?" Joyce repeated the word as though she was trying to learn in phonetically.
"Yeah, chips, cookies, anything?"
"Uh, there's some apples and oranges on the kitchen cabinet… There might be some cookies in the cabinet next to the refrigerator, and I'm… I'm pretty sure there's soda in the fridge."
"On it." Xander bolted from the couch and vanished into the kitchen.
Cordelia paused in her pacing before the front door. "I'm sorry he's such a dork," she said.
"It's all right," Joyce said. "Oz, do you need anything?"
"No, thanks. I'm good." The spiky-haired werewolf had moved a chair from the dining room table to a position where the front door was at a ninety-degree angle to his right and the back door at an identical angle to his left. He could watch both without moving and, aside from turning his head, he had been very still.
Xander returned from the kitchen. "Look," he said, "Chips Ahoy. Chips Ahoy!"
"You have a glass of milk?" Cordelia scoffed.
Xander sat down on the sofa. Joyce got up quickly and placed a coaster under the glass of milk. "Thanks," Xander said. "The whole reason Chips Ahoy was invented," he continued, addressing Cordelia, "was to soak up milk. They are so dry and crumbly, they beg for its cowy goodness. Oh, by the way, the only good use for milk is to dunk Chips Ahoy... and maybe Oreos."
Cordelia rolled her eyes and turned to Joyce. "Again, I am so sorry."
"We need to secure the doors, all the doors but one," Angel said, grimacing as Giles wrapped a bandage around his burned hand. "They're gonna be coming, we need to be sure there's only one way in."
"That is… a capital suggestion." Giles wrapped white tape around the end of the bandage and snipped it with scissors. "You," he said to Tyler, "go help him."
"Me?" Tyler said. "Hey, I don't know if you know-"
"I know very well what he- who he is," Giles snapped. "You have chosen to remain here, well, now you are well and truly in it. Go help." Chastened, Tyler jumped up from his chair.
"C'mon kid," Angel said. "Let's go find some chains."
"This is unacceptable," Mayor Wilkins said as he stepped out of the records room and surveyed the wreckage of the front hall. The corpses of demons, ghouls, and goblins littered the area, the floors and walls bore burn marks, the air was still foul with various disgusting odors, and a Ford Expedition was wedged in what had been the front entrance. Behind him was the gaping, twisted maw of what had once been, he had been assured when the city purchased it, the finest safe money could by, as well as a breathtaking amount of damage to the walls and ceiling.
"I agree," Florestan said. "They have taken the Seal and-"
"I would not let even so much as a scintilla of 'I told you so' find its way into my voice, if I were you." Wilkins said, still looking around.
"They have the Seal, but the Knights did not survive. That means that their entire force, such as it is, consists of one Watcher, two Slayers who mistrust each other, four students, and one misguided vampire with a soul." Florestan shrugged. "This smacks of a desperate gamble rather than a strategic move."
"Be that as it may, they need to be punished, and that right quick." Wilkins lifted his chin and twisted his neck.
"If I may suggest a course of action?"
The Mayor waved a hand. "Of course."
"We still have a fair number of our more… thuggish associates who are not bothered by sunlight. Given her previous behavior, it is fair to assume that the Slayer has returned to the school. Send our remaining forces there as soon as possible."
"Do you think they can recover the Seal?"
Florestan shrugged. "Perhaps, but I wouldn't place a wager on it. It will freeze the Slayer in place, however. We can use the rest of the day to plan an assault after sundown with Trick's forces."
"That's very good," the Mayor said. "Yes, let's do that. Get right on it."
"I will, sir." Florestan's eyes glinted for a split-second before he banked the fire.
The Slayer climbed out of the sewers across the street and down the block from the main entrance to Sunnydale High. She shivered in the warm spring sunshine, and realized that it was still early on a Saturday morning. She looked down the street and saw an old pickup parked askew on the sidewalk in front of the school. The incongruity of its position snapped her out of her daze.
Buffy hit the entrance doors to the school at a dead run and barely slowed down as she skidded to her left and raced down the hallway toward the library, yelling Giles's name at the top of her lungs. Her Watcher flung the door open, and she ran into the middle of the room, finally coming to a jerky stop. She bent over, hands on knees, the Seal clutched in her right hand.
"Buffy," he said, "are you-?"
She raised her head and looked at him, her eyes wide and wild, the right side of her face dappled with the dried blood spray from Nicholas's severed carotid artery, her clothes grimy and caked with layers of unidentifiable filth and fluids. Her teeth were bared in a fierce grimace; she began to tremble.
"Ms. Hollis?" Giles asked. "Mr. Warner?"
Buffy shook her head, a wild spastic motion, more of a seizure than a gesture. "N-No," she gasped, the words torn from her throat. "He- He didn't… She- She-" The Slayer drew in air in a great, shuddering convulsion and tears poured from her eyes, the brine carving a path through the dried gore on her face.
Giles stepped forward, took her by the shoulders, and guided her to a chair. Buffy went without resistance, her breath half-gasp and half-sob. "Now," her Watcher said, "try to calm-"
"Shut up!" she screamed; he fell back in the face of her vehement outburst. "Shut up! I can't be calm- He died, he broke his neck, and then I… with the sword… and she stayed to buy time… and… and…"
"Buffy," Giles said as gently as he could, "do you have it?" She stopped babbling and stared at him, then held out her tightly closed fist. The fingers slowly unfolded to reveal the small black bag. Giles nodded slowly. "I'm going to take it from you," he said, moving his hand forward. He closed his fist over the bag and the Slayer slumped forward in her chair. He shook the brilliant blue stone into his hand, nodded, and disappeared into the office.
"Hey, Buffy." Willow knelt beside her friend and put her arms around the Slayer's shoulders. "You need to get cleaned up. Come with me."
"Willow?" Buffy turned a blank stare toward her friend; the Slayer's eyes held a haunted, hollow look. "You're here… Did you… ?"
"Hey, B." Buffy turned toward the voice and saw Faith, hands on her hips, clad in a cardinal-red T-shirt with 'Sunnydale High School Phys Ed' lettered in marigold yellow and yellow sweat pants. Garishly white Nike Air Force 1's completed the ensemble. Buffy stared at them, noticed a bandage wrapped tightly around one of the dark Slayer's ankles, then lifted her eyes to Faith's face.
""What, the kicks?" The dark Slayer shrugged. "I just kicked in lockers until I found a pair that fit. They're not really me, but, any port in a storm, right? Some girl named Gwennifer is gonna be pissed on Monday."
"Right," Buffy whispered, allowing Willow to lift her from the chair as Giles returned empty-handed from the office.
The redhead spoke to the Watcher as she began to guide her friend toward the door. "I'm gonna take her to the locker room to get cleaned up and find some clothes."
Josie stood in the hallway and surveyed the carnage. Bodies, human and demon, were strewn from the door to the far end. The diversity was impressive: humans, vampires, goblins, ifrids, maybe a djinn, even a couple of ghouls. The severed heads of the latter still snapped their jaws in mindless, futile attacks. The bulk of the Expedition acted as a sort of line of demarcation. She stepped over the rubble until she came to an enormous corpse. It was human; there was no whiff of the supernatural about it, but the man (when he was alive) would have verged on being a giant. She cocked her head, noting the head lying to the left of the torso. It had obviously been severed with a single stroke. She whistled softly.
"Nice skills," she said to no one, "and some serious torque on that swing." She put out a sneaker-clad foot and rolled the huge man over. As the massive corpse settled to one side, she looked down into the unblinking eyes of Stefan Warner; the dead Knight of the Cross's head was twisted at an unearthly angle. "Man, that sucks," she whispered.
She looked back at the Expedition. A jagged, oblong hole had been punched in the front fender, and an impressive amount of blood was drying there. A spatter trail led away from it. Josie crawled over the front seat of the Expedition and came out through what had been the front of the building. She walked quickly to the corner of the parking lot and lifted the cast-iron manhole cover with one hand. She looked inside for a moment, then dropped it with a clang and went back into the building. She followed the blood spatter past more bodies and out the back of City Hall. There was a small structure at the northwest edge of the parking lot, maybe a switching station for the electricity or a junction point for the phone system. Josie went to it, looked around, and pulled open the door. There was a narrow staircase spiraling down. She went tripping down it and came out in a large tunnel: misty, damp, and easily high enough for her to stand up. A few yards to her right, and she came upon more bodies, more spooks and boogiemen who would never trouble a child's dream again. The walls were pocked and scarred, but the marks were new and white, the edges sharp and was a strong stink of gunpowder in the air, masking other, fouler smells. She picked her way through the carnage for a good fifty yards, passing a smaller tunnel on her right, until there was only one more body lying ahead of her.
Matti Hollis sprawled on the filthy floor. Her upper right arm was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, and a submachine gun, two pistols and a dozen magazines lay around her. Her left hand loosely grasped a stainless-steel revolver. Josie whistled as she stepped over the bodies toward the wounded Knight. She shook her head. Hollis had certainly made her firepower count.
Josie crouched down beside Matti's unmoving form. "This sucks, too," she said. She settled back on her heels, her arms extended between her raised knees, and thought. Finally, she shook her head, leaned forward, and touched the insensate teacher's forehead. Matti twitched, groaned, then her eyes shot open. She drew two ragged breaths, then sluggishly swung her hand up, trying to bring the Ruger to bear. Josie caught her forearm and easily held it away.
"Shhh," she said. "This won't last long, so you should get going before it wears off. Get to the Summers house. Tell them that they don't have to worry about Buffy's mom. Everything depends on the library. Got it?"
Matti's eyes rolled like a panicked animal, then stared blankly at the tunnel's brick ceiling. Josie stood up and stepped back; the Knight of the Cross struggled to her feet and stood for a moment, swaying like a tree in a high wind, then stumbled away, bouncing off the wall every few steps. She went to one knee, then slowly, painfully fought her way to her feet and staggered off, half-supporting herself on the rough brick of the wall. Josie watched her go, then turned back to look at the slaughter in the sewer.
"What a pain in the ass," she said, and it was. Justifying this was going to be a bitch.
Buffy and Willow entered the library quietly, the Slayer wearing a sweatshirt with an abstract all-over print of orange, teal, electric magenta, and neon yellow over a pair of baggy, cuffed jeans shorts. Her wet, tousled hair hung on her shoulders.
"Buffy," Giles said, "are you all right?"
"Nice threads, B," Faith said, hopping up on the counter.
Buffy jumped slightly, then looked down at her outfit. "It was… They're some extra old clothes I keep in my gym locker… for emergencies."
"Good call," the dark Slayer said. "That outfit is its own crisis."
Giles looked sternly at Faith, but she didn't seem to notice. He turned to Buffy. "How are you?" he asked.
Buffy drew in a slow breath and looked at him. "I went full China Syndrome in the shower, but I'm okay… not okay okay, but okay to get us through this."
Willow looked around. "Where's Tyler? Where's Angel?"
Buffy swallowed. "Angel's here?"
"Yeah… after we got Faith, we all came back here. We, uh, we stole a truck. Angel came through the tunnels because, you know." Willow kept a protective arm around the Slayer's shoulder.
"Oh," Buffy said, as if this was the most logical concept she had ever encountered. "I wondered why there was a truck on the lawn."
Faith nodded toward the hall. "Yeah, Pouty Face and Beanpole are securing the last of the doors."
"Securing… ?" Buffy looked puzzled.
"Somebody's gonna be comin' after us with fire up their ass," Faith said, drawing her legs up, knees out, hands pressing the soles of her feet together. "There's gonna be more of them than us, but if we barricade every door except one, we might be able to fight 'em at a choke point." As if to underline her sentence, the door opened and Angel and Tyler came into the library.
"All the doors are chained shut except the east entry," Angel said. "The sun's up, so anything that comes through there isn't a vampire." Tyler stood next to him, eyes wide.
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked.
"Not really, no," Tyler replied. "I'm kinda… I don't know what I am. What's going on?"
"Here," Willow said, taking him by the arm, "come with me." They went into the office and she closed the door. "The monsters are coming. While we were breaking Faith out of jail, Buffy took something they want, and they're going to try and get it back."
He blinked. "So, what do I…?"
"Nothing," Willow said. "You're gonna stay in here and keep a low profile." She noticed a large wood-and-iron box on the desk. She could practically feel power radiating out from it.
"What's gonna happen?"
Willow bit her lip. "We'll fight them off. If we can't, and they get what they're after, we're all going to die… if we're lucky."
"Fuck that!" he blurted. "How about I just leave now and take my chances on my own?"
"No!" Willow scowled. "You've been a stubborn little pain. We gave you a chance, many chances to leave, but you wouldn't, and now it's too late. It's about to get very dangerous around here, but it would be more dangerous for you to be walking around on the street by yourself."
"How?" he demanded.
"Did it ever occur to you," Willow said, "that one of them might recognize you?"
Tyler went ultra-pale and looked like he was going to throw up. There was a knock on the door, and then Buffy's muffled voice said, "Will, can I use the phone? I want to call my mom."
Willow snapped her fingers and made a 'come on' gesture. They passed the Slayer in the doorway. As the door closed, Willow turned to Giles. "So…"
"I have called the Knights," the Watcher said. "Ms. Hollis gave me the contact information in case… in case of the situation we now find ourselves in."
"How'd it go?" Willow asked.
"They, um, they seemed very puzzled, but I did provide them with all the proper authentication…"
"They'll be here," Angel said. "One way or the other."
Joyce hung up the phone and leaned against the wall. No one breathed in the Summers house. Tears leaked from her closed eyes. The three Slayerettes exchanged nervous looks. Joyce finally opened her eyes. "Buffy's at the library." She sobbed once and covered her mouth with her hands.
"Well, that's good, right?" Xander asked, the hedge trimmers dangling at his side.
"Mostly," Oz said. He went into the kitchen and came back. "Back door's secure," he said. "I'm going to wait in there."
"Wait a minute," Cordelia said. "Didn't you hear? Buffy's at the library. She's okay."
Oz looked unfazed. "Because whoever Buffy took it from might want it back, so…"
"Yeah, but vampires have to be invited in. I know that. That's like, thing number one with vampires: don't invite them in. Why are you guarding the door?"
"Yes," Joyce said. "That's right. They do have to be invited in." She stood up and walked to the armchair, her steps somewhat shaky.
"Yeah," Oz drawled, "but it's daylight now, so vampires aren't the problem. Humans don't have to be invited in, or werewolves, or-"
"It's true," Xander said. "It's easier to get rid of a Jehovah's Witness than some of these spooks."
"Really?" Cordelia snapped. "Now you try to make with the funny? Inappropriate much?"
Xander shrugged. "It's called dark humor for a reason."
"Nobody made you come."
"Cor, look around. We're the B squad. We might be the C squad-"
"I can hear you," Oz called from the kitchen.
"No offense," Xander said. He turned back to Cordelia. "You and I don't even have any cool powers. I mean, look at you. You're holding a hammer."
Cordelia glowered at him. "It's a sledge hammer, and I might use it to tenderize your thick skull."
"Well," Joyce said, placing her hands on her thighs and rising from the chair. "I certainly feel well- protected."
Xander glanced at the floor, then looked up at Cordelia. "Sorry. I… I went too far. Truce?"
"Until this is over," Cordelia said, shaking the hammer at him, "then we're going to talk."
"Oh God," Xander said, "I'm suddenly rooting for the Mayor."
Their staredown was interrupted by a slow, irregular knock at the door. A second, weaker knock followed. Cordelia and Xander froze, watching the door. A tense moment passed, then Oz stepped around Cordelia and grabbed the doorknob.
Cordelia yipped, startled. The hammer flew up, cocked over her right shoulder. "Hey, give a person warning, okay? Wait, why are you opening the door?"
Oz turned to face her. "There's lots of creepy-crawlies around, and some have to be invited in, some don't, but I don't think any of them knock."
"Some ring the doorbell," Cordelia said. "That bug guy did."
Oz shrugged. "There was probably only one bug guy."
Cordelia considered this, then shrugged. "Okay, that makes sense." She raised the hammer. "But just in case."
Oz nodded. "Be careful with Mjolnir." He wrenched open the door, and Matti Hollis tumbled into the living room.