Buffy lay in a beautiful crystal boat that rocked gently on a shining sea. The sun was bright and mild, the breeze smelled of lavender and jasmine, and birds wheeled high in the sky, their calls faint and melodious, but as she reclined there, the waves grew higher, and the ship began to pitch and roll. The air grew bitter, and the birdsong became harsh and grating. She realized the birds cried her name: "Buffy! Buffy!"

She started awake, hands coming up defensively. Giles removed his hand from her shoulder and stood up. "I'm sorry," he said, "but it's time to rotate." The Slayer sat up, her mouth coated with the bitter tang of the smoky stank from the vehicle fires. The other Scoobies were rousing.

Cordelia scooted off the table and did a little jig step. "I need to pee," the cheerleader announced and hurried out the door. Buffy gave a dry spit as she rolled to her feet.

"I need to go splash a little water on my face," she said, "and maybe gargle some Lysol."

Angel stood in the foyer, looking out through the shattered glass of the entry door. Buffy touched two fingers to her forehead as she pushed into the ladies' room. She ran the water cold and splashed it liberally on her face. She was rinsing her mouth for the third time when Cordelia came out of the stall. The brunette washed her hands, then rinsed her mouth.

Buffy looked at Cordelia in the mirror. "I need to ask for a favor."

Cordelia returned the look in the mirror. "What?" Her voice was suspicious.

Buffy moved her hands aimlessly under the running water. "When they come, Trick is gonna try to make me his personal Lamb Chop. If he does that… if it's working… promise that you'll kill me."

Cordelia's eyes narrowed as she looked at the Slayer's reflection. She put a wet finger in her mouth and rubbed it back and forth along her gum line, then rinsed her hands. "Why me?" she asked. "Why not Xander, or Willow?"

"We both know why," Buffy said quietly.

The cheerleader's look hardened. "Because Xander and Willow are your friends, and Cordelia's bitchy enough to do it?"

Buffy turned off the water and grabbed a handful of paper towels. As she dried her hands, she turned to face the other girl. "No. Stop that. Remember when you said tact was just not saying true stuff? I know what you went through… I know how tough you've had to be… and Xander and Willow don't have that. They'd say okay, but… if it came to it, they couldn't do it, even if it needed to be done."

Cordelia turned, water dripping from her hands, and stared down at the Slayer. "If I have to, I'll try to do it. Just don't think that I'll enjoy it, or want to, okay?"

Buffy nodded. "If you put me down, I promise that my last thought will be that you didn't want to. Deal?"

Cordelia ran her tongue along her lower lip. "Deal."

The door banged open and Willow rushed into the restroom. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I gotta go."

Joyce perched on the edge of the armchair and watched Matti Hollis lying on the sofa. The Knight was unconscious (Joyce couldn't conceive of calling this result of violence 'sleep'), her wounded arm wrapped in the peroxide-soaked towel and bound across her stomach by a half-dozen old Ace bandages Joyce had found in the bathroom. Matti's breathing was irregular; she looked, for all intents and purposes, dead. Joyce found her own respiration slowing, stopping, wondering if this was the end… then Matti would inhale raggedly, and Joyce would release her own held breath in a darkly comic counterpoint.

As Joyce watched, Matti's eyes flickered open. She shifted her weight slightly and gasped in pain, bringing Joyce to her feet.

"What do you need?"

"A new arm." Matti tried to laugh; it devolved into a wheezing gasp. Her eyes slid to the window. "How long have I been here?"

"A few hours." Joyce leaned forward in her chair. "What's happening? What should I be doing?"

"It's in Buffy's hands, now." Matti's eyes squeezed shut as a bolt of pain raced through her body. "We can't do anything, but if you could bring me the phone… and then, I need to ask you to go into the other room."

"Why do you want me to do that?" Joyce asked.

Matti looked up at the ceiling. "Because I'm going to do some I Spy stuff and try to get them some help."

The second shift was already asleep: Faith had placed three chairs side-by-side and stretched across them, Giles was in the office, head pillowed on his jacket. Willow and Oz had decided to scavenge the school for any supplies they might find. Cordelia sat on the table, swinging her feet back and forth, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail. Xander sat on the steps, elbows on knees.

"This sucks," Cordelia said. "I mean, probably fighting to the death is bad enough, but to sit around and be bored waiting for it…"

"I'll admit," Xander said, "I didn't see this coming."

"Didn't see what coming?"

"You know." Xander grabbed the rail and pulled himself up. "You and me trapped in a small room, waiting for the inevitable end. It's like one of those short stories in sophomore English, you know, the one about the lady and the tiger…"

Cordelia looked over her shoulder. "You mean 'The Lady, or the Tiger'?"

"That one, yeah, or the one about the guy who saw Death and ran away and Death was surprised, because Death was supposed to see him in another city?"

"Oh, yeah," Cordelia said. "And the city he ran away to was the one where he'd meet Death… yeah."

"Yeah. I mean, this seems like one of those stories."

"Maybe it's like the one about the guy who's getting hanged, and the rope breaks and he gets away, only it turned out it was all in his mind."

"'An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge', yeah, it could be that." Xander walked to the door and looked out, then turned around. "But is this the part that's in our mind?"

"You know, now that I think about it, it doesn't work." Cordelia kicked both feet out and studied the toes of her sneakers. "But, it could be worse. I could be stuck in here with Harmony… or Aura."

"Nah," Xander said, looking through the door's window again. "Three years ago, maybe, but you're better than them. You…" He purposefully kept his face turned toward the door. "You're a lot different than you were then."

"Thank you," the cheerleader said, "but… this company's not so bad."

Xander looked over his shoulder. "Don't try to be nice now."

Buffy looked out through the pulverized glass that had been the front door of Sunnydale High. Angel was halfway up the staircase, well out of reach of any sunbeams falling on the foyer floor. Two of the morning's attackers were at the edge of the lawn; their compadres doubtless arranged around the school. She took in a bushel of air through her nose and turned away. "So," she said to Angel, "what are you gonna do when this is over?"

He was silent, his right shoulder leaning against the wall. "I haven't thought that far ahead. It doesn't seem feasible."

"Oh, c'mon," the Slayer said. "Be a do-be, not a don't-be."

He looked at her, eyes sad in his impassive face. "Assuming any of us has a choice after this is over, I'm thinking LA. Big city, large population of freaks, easy to get anything you want, even if it's a little… out of the ordinary… and that's just the humans."

Buffy chuckled. "Tired of small-town life, gonna see the big city?"

"I've seen big cities."

"I know." The Slayer's voice was hushed.

Oz and Willow came down the steps, their arms full. Buffy and Angel turned and looked up at them, puzzled.

"Don't mind us," Willow said. "We're going down by the library."

"What did you guys find?" Buffy asked.

"Just some stuff," Oz said, carefully feeling for the next step. "Hydrogen peroxide, acetone, wire, batteries…"

"And the buckets?" Angel said.

"We gotta put it in something," Willow replied as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Put the what in the what?" The Slayer cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh," Oz said, "we're making bombs."

Angel and Buffy gaped at each other, then Angel pointed after the departing Scoobies. "Did he say 'bombs'?"

Buffy nodded. "He definitely said 'bombs'. Hey, Oz…"

Giles rubbed his eyes as he walked out of the library office, then stopped and put on his glasses. The library was empty except for Faith on her bed of chairs. The Watcher walked over and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Faith-"

Snarling, the dark Slayer twisted upright in one smooth motion; she grabbed the offending hand and twisted, then realized, a hair's-breadth before she broke the thumb, to whom the hand belonged.

"Sorry." She released Giles and apologetically held up her hands. "My bad… but I'm a wicked jumpy waker-upper."

"Noted," the librarian said, slowly flexing his hand. "Where are the others?"

Faith shrugged. "I d'know. I been asleep."

Giles nodded. "Yes, well, I suppose-" A noise from outside the library caught his attention, and he turned and went to the door.

Four five-gallon buckets stood in the hall. Willow poured liquids into the buckets while Oz unspooled rubber-coated wire. Xander and Cordelia stripped the ends of the wires as Oz cut them. Buffy held up a balloon and asked Oz a question; the teenage werewolf replied and pointed. The Slayer nodded and taped the balloon to the exposed end of wire, then wound the wire around what appeared to be a steel ingot. She carefully taped the wire to the lid of a bucket, leaving the ingot dangling, then lowered the contraption carefully into one of the buckets and sealed it, then Angel picked it up and carried it down the hallway.

Giles pushed open the door. "May I ask what you are doing?"

"Oh, hey, Giles." Willow put down the container in her hand. "Oz and I were thinking about how we could use our knowledge, because y'know, I'm not very good with the-" she mimed doing curls. "We went through every place we could get into and this is what we came up with."

"And what is this?" the Watcher asked.

"Oh," Willow said brightly, "bombs."

"Bombs?"

"Yeah, we found thirty percent hydrogen peroxide and acetone, those are mixed in the buckets, and we'll run a charge from those batteries." Willow pointed and Giles turned to his right to see a bank of square six-volt batteries.

"And that will explode?" Giles asked.

"Probably not," Oz said. "That's why we're putting a little sulfuric acid in there. When Willow closes the circuit, it'll melt the balloon holding the acid and dump it into the solution."

"That'll act as a catalyst, so we're pretty sure it'll detonate."

Giles blinked rapidly. "Pretty sure?"

Willow shrugged. "We haven't had a chance to test it. It'll either work or it won't."

Giles rubbed his forehead, a man trying to jump on a spinning merry-go-round. "But how will it hurt vampires?"

Oz shrugged, less eloquently than Willow. "Might not, but it should produce a pretty good boom, probably some fire, nothing likes fire."

"Whoa." Faith popped out behind Giles. "Did you guys say you're making bombs? Bitchin'!"

"Wait, wait, you said Willow would be… detonating these contraptions. Where will you be?"

Oz paused. "I thought I'd protect the rear entrance. Chain myself to the bookshelf and let out the wolf."

"Oh, I see." The librarian ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Well, then… carry on, I guess."

"Last one's done," Buffy said. "We only had four buckets."

"Yeah, I just need to run the wire along the baseboard and set up the batteries." Oz grabbed a roll of duct tape and headed for the buckets, which now resided at the far end of the hall by the foyer.

"Yes, certainly." Giles turned to the other students. "Xander, Cordelia, come with me. We need to find something more suitable for battle than the gardening implements you had earlier." He pointed them toward the office. Tyler wandered out from the stacks; no one had thought to wake him.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing for you to worry about," the librarian responded. Metallic clanking and thumping came from the weapons locker, then Cordelia came out carrying the naginata.

"I think I remember this," she said.

"You should," Giles replied and pointed toward the large nick in the counter's wood trim.

"Oh, right," Cordelia said. "I guess I'll take it."

"Look, I found Paul Bunyan's axe." Xander propped a poleaxe across his shoulders.

"Do I get somethin' like that?" Tyler asked.

"No!" The response came simultaneously from Giles, Cordelia, and Xander. The Watcher held up a hand. "Why don't you go and wait in the office? You'll be safe there."

"Hey, Xander." Faith stepped inside the door and leaned against the jamb, hands folded behind her. "Good to see you holding something long and hard." Xander flushed bright red and looked down and to his right.

"Faith," Cordelia said, "why don't you just shut up?"

Faith pushed away from the wall, hands loose at her sides, her shoulders suddenly tense. "You feelin' froggy, Chasey? Prom queen lookin' to get her ass kicked?"

Cordelia stepped up and looked the dark Slayer straight in the eye. "I wasn't voted prom queen."

"Aw," Faith said. "I feel so bad for you. Maybe I'll ease up a little."

"Don't do me any favors." Cordelia's eyes flashed. "I've already taken more than you can dish out."

"Faith! Cordelia!" Giles barked. "Stop this foolishness at once!"

Faith raised her chin and pointed it at Cordelia. "Rain check."

Giles slammed his hand down on the counter. "We are not fighting one another."

Faith raised her hands, palms out. "Hey, I can't help if the skin's a little thin around here."

"What's with the Few Good Men table banging?" Buffy stuck her head in the door. The Slayer took a beat and registered the lack of distance between Faith and Cordelia and the strain in each girl's frame, then shook her head. "Are we about to do Trick's work for him?"

Faith rolled her tongue around in her mouth. "Not me. I'm five by five." She pushed past Cordelia, jostling the cheerleader's shoulder. Cordelia's face darkened, but she did not turn around. Faith went all the way back into the stacks. Buffy looked at Xander as Cordelia stalked out of the room.

"We good here?" the Slayer asked.

"Yeah," Xander said. "Faith got a little lippy, Cordelia took exception."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Lippy over…?"

Xander looked at her and his face clearly communicated 'don't make me say it' vibes. The Slayer nodded her head, then followed Cordelia, passing Oz, Willow, and Angel as they entered. As the Slayer passed, Willow asked "What's…?"

"No big," the Slayer said as she went through the door. "I'll deal." She popped open the bathroom door and looked warily around the privacy jog in the wall. Cordelia leaned against the far wall, the naginata propped in the corner, the sinks and mirrors to her right. The brunette looked ready to explode. Buffy stepped into space between the stalls and the wall. "Pretty gutsy, standing up to Faith. Not even sure I wanna do that."

Cordelia bit at a cuticle and shook her head. "I am just so sick of her crap."

"Of her crap," Buffy said, keenly aware that Faith had been back in their lives for a grand total of maybe six hours. "It was cool that you went to bat for Xander."

Cordelia looked up, fierce. "I get to ride Xander, nobody else." Her eyes went wide as her mouth dropped open. "Ohmygod, I can't believe…"

Buffy couldn't stop the belly laugh that erupted from the center of her body. Cordelia hesitated for a heartbeat, then the bathroom echoed with twin peals of tension-relieving laughter. When the cacophony died down to chuckles, Buffy grabbed a paper towel and wiped her eyes. Cordelia splashed water on her face and turned to the Slayer.

"You can never, ever tell anyone about that."

Buffy made the universal 'lock the lips' gesture. "I swear on whatever you want me to swear on, this never happened… besides, would anybody believe it did?" She looked frankly at the other girl. "You good?"

Cordelia's mouth twisted to one side, and then she gave a short nod. "I am, I just… sometimes I get really mad."

"I feel ya." Buffy gestured at the naginata. "Don't forget your buddy."

"Are you kidding?" Cordelia grabbed the weapon and hefted it. "I think I might keep this."

"All packed?" Josie leaned against the wall of the garage. Her trench coat was, if possible, even more wrinkled than before.

"That doesn't frighten me. I know all of your parlor tricks." Florestan closed the hood of the Boxster. "It never hurts to be prepared."

"Yeah, but putting your suitcases in now? That seems a little more than 'prepared'." Josie ran a hand through her messy hair.

"Well, if someone is going to put their thumb on the scales, then I must take extra steps." The demon dusted his hands together.

"First, who says I did? Second, I never said I wouldn't, and, third, who says I did?"

Florestan's lips worked as he gave her a long look. "I was told that both Knights were dead."

Josie shrugged. "So you hired idiots who don't know how to take a pulse. Not my fault."

"I am not persuaded by your feeble denials."

"Besides, as I understand it, if one of the Knights did survive, she's badly wounded, won't be any help to anyone, so…" Her hand made a motion like a fluttering bird.

Florestan's eyes narrowed. "You do know, I hate you."

Josie sighed. "And that's your fatal flaw."

"Um, how did your phone call go?" Joyce tried not to sound desperately concerned, but the way she shredded the tissue in her hand belied the effort.

"They're aware of the situation, but they won't be here in time to help tonight. Big organizations're never good at moving fast." Matti closed her eyes, although it was impossible to determine whether she did so from pain or anguish. "It's all up to Buffy, now."

Joyce leaned forward. "We need to go over there."

"No. That's the thing you can't do." Matti held up her good hand. "I know you want to, that everything in you is screaming to do that, but the only thing it would accomplish is distract her, make her worried about you." A tear slid out of the Knight's right eye and coursed down toward her ear. "I'm sorry, Joyce, but you need to stay here."

Joyce kneaded her hands, sending shreds of tissue paper flying. "Well, I appreciate what you did… getting her out of the tunnel."

"It was so strange." Matti's voice was soft and her eyes stared at the ceiling, but her focus was somehow beyond the room. "I always told myself that I'd keep one shot in the Ruger, that I'd use it on myself before I'd let one of them get me, but down there… I was out of my mind, it hurt so bad, and I had one shot left and… sonofabitch, there was one of them left, and I just realized… it didn't matter. This was the end of the road."

"The end of the road?" Joyce asked.

"The end of the road… and I just… I just took the last shot and then… then I was gone."

"Gone?"

The Knight's voice dropped to a bare whisper. "I was somewhere… It was a street corner, or riverbank, or… something that you cross, and I knew… I knew I could cross it, but if I did… no take-backs. Then, it was like a static spark, and I was in the tunnel, but I don't remember if I even knew that, all that was in my head was that I needed to get here… and tell the kids to go to the library." She turned her head and looked at Joyce. "She's exceptional, you know. If anyone can do this, she can."

Joyce nodded, chin quivering, eyes overflowing. "I know, I just… Why couldn't she just be dating the wrong guy? Or thinking that it might be better to work at McDonald's instead of going to college?"

Matti swallowed, which apparently took a major effort. "I don't think that would be any easier."

"This is it. Tonight's the night." Trick stuck his hands in the front pockets of his suit pants. He liked this pose, the way it made his overcoat swing out behind him like a cape, especially with the upturned collar. "You know how hard we've worked, you know what a high-wire act this has been, and you have been outstanding. I could not be more proud of you.

"Some of you may be asking why we're gearing up, why are we putting ourselves in harm's way, didn't we deliver the package to our client. We did, but the package has been taken from him, and this is the big leagues. If our client fails, we won't be able to just walk away. Right or wrong, we have to get it back-" he paused for dramatic effect "-and there's nobody I'd rather be with right now than you."

An approving rumble passed through the assembled vampires. Trick paced back and forth, letting the emotion swell, riding the wave, then coming in on the backside.

"While we are dealing with the Slayer and her pitiful allies, tech people, I want everything cleaned and wiped. I want us to be ghosts, no, I want ghosts to be unable to find any traces we were here. By sunup tomorrow, Sunnydale will be our rearview."

He swung around and faced his followers. "Our client will meet us at the site with a few of his people. Ladies… gentlemen… tonight, we become legend!"

Delilah led the applause, eyes glistening with tears.

Xander and Cordelia stood just inside the library doors, their breathing shallow and fast. Tyler was stashed in the office, where he'd spent most of the afternoon. He had protested at first, but it was a feeble objection. After the earlier incident, the dark Slayer had kept to the hall, prowling the corridor and looking out the ruined door. Angel sat on the steps. When the attack came, the plan was to meet it in the hallway, in front of the library doors. That would leave the option of falling back into the library itself and barricading the door. Willow sat at the table, four batteries in front of her, wire connected to one terminal, a bare strand of copper dangling beside the other. Giles came out of the office carrying a cardboard box.

"Here," Giles said. "This might be the time to give you these." He placed the box on the counter and opened the flaps.

Buffy tilted her head and looked at the Watcher from the corner of her eye. "Giles, this is, like, the weirdest time for giftage." She reached into the box and pulled out- "Stakes?" She turned them over in her hands. "But…"

Giles shuffled his feet and looked down. "I, I had the shop class make them… just before school began. I… I believe that I thought that perhaps you would… " His voice trailed away.

"You thought that if you made a bunch of stakes it would bring me back home? Like, what, bread crumbs in a fairy tale?" Buffy hefted them. The lengths of oak and ash were slightly longer than her usual implements, but beautifully balanced and subtly curved, turned on a lathe to needle points. "They're… they're beautiful." She tucked three of them into her waistband.

Giles nodded. "Honestly, I'd hidden them because… it seemed morbid, but… now seems like the right time."

The Slayer's head came up. "The sun's down." Buffy peered through the library door's window.

"A while ago," Willow said.

Giles fidgeted, his hands in his pockets. "I'm sure Faith and Angel will warn us when Trick is here."

"I wonder if-" There was a loud clunk and the rest of Willow's statement was cut off as the lights vanished. A scream rang out in the darkness, then the emergency lighting kicked on, dim and red-tinted.

"That was me," Cordelia said. "Not Xander."

"Here they come," Buffy said and stepped into the hallway as Faith and Angel pounded toward them. "Oz, it's showtime." A cracking, rending sound from the rear of the library, followed by a snarl, signifying that the wolf was free. Buffy looked over Faith's head and saw the vanguard of Trick's force breach the door and turn toward the library. "Set it off, Will," she said.

The question of whether the improvised bombs would work was answered in spectacular fashion. One after the other, the buckets detonated, emitting rolling fireballs and sending shards of plastic flying. Some of the vampires winced and faltered as large chunks of bucket pierced legs and arms; a couple were ignited by the inferno and lurched into their comrades, sowing confusion and injury. Buffy felt the heat of the explosions wash over her, tried to blink away spots as her eyes adjusted after the intense light of the bursts of flame burned out. The charge faltered, but didn't break, and in an instant, energy was converted from potential to kinetic as the Slayers met the vanguard. Buffy stepped forward; evil was in front of her, the world was in the balance, and she was the Slayer. She brought the truncheon around in a flat arc and caught the first vampire on the side of his head. This didn't put him down, of course, but it did straighten him up, making him a great target for the stake she now held in her left hand. He exploded into dust and Buffy blinked to clear her vision, just in time to block a jagged-nailed hand that struck at her face.

Faith skidded to a stop beside her and turned at the point of attack, the saber held point-up in her right hand. Xander and Cordelia took the flanks, fighting hard to keep the assault from enveloping the Slayers. Angel and Giles were somewhere in between, now supporting the students, now stepping up beside the Slayers to provide them a bit of room. Drifting ash, murky light, and splashing gore turned the hall into something out of a '70s Italian horror flick. To Buffy, it felt like the very air was coalescing into a gelid goo. Faith slashed back and forth with her saber, a mad grin on her face. Buffy was less of a whirling dervish, but her work with the bronze club was just as deadly. The strategy she'd hit on with the first vamp was very effective: blow to the head or chest to stop and stun, then the stake as the coup de grace. It worked well, but there were just so many foes. Inexorably, the defenders were pressed back until Giles's foot hit the library door.

"Buffy!" he shouted, pushed the door open, and leaped inside. Cordelia and Xander tumbled after him as Buffy and Angel pulled Faith into the library and slammed the doors. That was Willow's cue to slide the flagpole she held in her hands through the door handles. The makeshift barricade held for the moment, long enough for them to realize how their limbs trembled, how their breath came in gasps, how their shoulders slumped under an unfathomable weight, then the flagpole bent, cracked, and the library doors flew open as the full madness of what was happening rushed in. Willow ducked under the table, the cacophony of battle rising until no sound was distinguishable, just the white noise of pain and death. She scrambled out from under the table and fetched up against the library counter. For the moment, the doors were a sort of bottleneck, a kind of Thermopylae Pass for the outnumbered Scooby Gang. Buffy and Faith punched, kicked, stabbed, swung, but for every enemy who fell, it seemed two took their place. Giles backed them, sword in hand. Angel was vamped-out, fighting for all he was worth, with the pent-up ferocity of a man returned from hell. Xander and Cordelia fought with all their hearts, although Cordelia's sessions in Matti's basement had given her far more skill. Willow could hear the snarls and growls as Oz guarded the stacks. So far only a few attackers had tried to come through that entrance, and they had been dispatched, but whether through the stacks or the front doors, it was only a matter of time. No matter how valiant the defense, sheer weight of numbers would eventually win the day. Fluids of an unknown but certainly disgusting nature oozed along the floor, causing treacherous footing for both attacker and defender. A vampire started to swing a section of rebar at Buffy and slipped; his blow sailed over the Slayer's head. Before he could recover, Faith cleanly decapitated him with one stroke, creating a shower of ash that sparkled in the muddy emergency lighting as the rebar clanged against the floor tiles.

Willow crawled around the counter and reached up, groping for the knob to the office door. She found it by feel, wrenched the door open and crawled inside, slamming it behind her. The sounds of battle diminished slightly.

Tyler huddled under Giles's desk, his hands over his ears. Willow leaned close and grabbed his arm. "You wanted to see this. You thought it was exciting. This is what it is." She grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged him out from under the desk. He scrambled after her, pulled along less by the force of her arm and more by the force of her will. She got to her knees and pulled him up. A teak-and-iron box sat on Giles's desk; to Willow, it fairly hummed.

"Anchor me," she yelled in Tyler's face. "That's all, just hold on to me." She grabbed his hand and placed it on her arm, said "Crap", reached back and grabbed his other arm, and wrapped it around her waist. "Just hold on," she yelled, then looked at herself in the glass front of one of the bookcases and…

The Never Never hummed like a giant supernatural hive of bees. The usual fractal, kaleidoscopic images were washed out by the throbbing white light that pulsed at the center of her vision. Turning her head did nothing; the star was always in front of her, and Willow could feel the light pouring over her, rippling and scouring her being. Something was wrong with her eyes (they're watering… no, my eyes can't water here, they they…are they melting?). Choking, she reached out and swiped at the searing glare, trying to push it away.

In the middle of a punch, Buffy shivered as a pulse passed through the room. A frozen moment shuddered through the battle, like a stop-time in a song, a heart-freezing beat, then Trick's forces fought with even more frenzy. Buffy felt herself pushed back and sensed Faith sliding beside her. Cordelia screamed somewhere behind her, and it didn't sound like a shout of triumph. As the Slayer nearly beheaded a vamp with her bronze club, Mayor Wilkins stepped inside the library door, a smug smile on his blankly handsome face. A burst of insane fury rose inside Buffy: how dare that sonofabitch look so self-satisfied. She struck at another demon, sensed movement in the periphery of her vision, turned, and saw Mr. Trick step out from behind the Mayor.

And the iron cap slammed down on her skull.

Never Never Willow staggered, stunned by the sheer impact of that small contact with the primal force that danced and pulsed in front of her. She tried to see, to understand whatever it was, but the power was too great, the luminescence too bright. The floating star flared brightly.

No! Buffy screamed internally, but it didn't matter. She spun, her movements jerky and disjointed, and watched her own fist swing the club at Faith. The dark Slayer saw the blow coming at the last second and twisted to avoid the worst of its impact, deflecting the club with her saber, but now she was forced to fight on two fronts, against whatever Trick had in front of her and her erstwhile comrade-in-arms. Buffy cried, scalding tears coursing down her face as she exerted all of her will to resist, but the best she could do might have been an infinitesimal lessening of the force of each blow.

Giles gasped, his breath coming short and his heart sinking as he saw Buffy attack Faith. Utter despair washed over him, then his vision was blocked as Xander and Cordelia leaped into the fray, trying to fill the gap.

"What, what about the stacks?" Giles shouted, dimly aware of how ludicrous the question sounded.

"Not our biggest problem right now," Xander panted, stabbing forward. "Oz's got it."

Willow shook violently as the white light flared, then felt herself begin to slip. No! she screamed without words and, in a desperate, last-ditch effort, because she had no other ideas, she thrust both hands into the inferno, and grabbed whatever was at its heart.

Their faces inches apart, the Slayers remained locked in their grim tableau.

"Buffy," Faith groaned.

Tears welled up in Buffy's eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't help it." Trick kept his eyes on the struggling Slayers, a profane grin on his face, sweat running down the planes of his cheek and jaw as his forces pressed back the other defenders of the library…

It was like grabbing a high-voltage wire, no, Willow knew this was worse, even though she had never grabbed an electric line. Power slammed into her and through her. She felt her eyes disintegrated, the teeth blasted out of her head, her joints dissolved. In desperation, she did the only thing that occurred to her: pulled as hard as she could.

And then an absence of sound so deafening it sucked away the air rang through their heads and blasted the library, followed by a rushing roar that turned their vision red and black. The world buckled, and Mr. Trick involuntarily glanced toward the office.

"Oh, shit," he muttered and whipped his attention back toward the battle.

For a heartbeat, the iron cap loosened every so slightly. Buffy took a half-step backward and dropped her hands, letting the club fall to the floor, but it was a false, fleeting hope as the screws tightened again around her temples.

In the second when the universe warped, in that frozen millisecond when everything was discombobulated, Cordelia saw Buffy's back, exposed and open. The cheerleader hefted the naginata in both hands, hesitated, then muttered "Screw this" and struck.

Trick felt a fierce elation; his control had wavered, but was firmly re-established. She was his bitch, he had her in hand. He could keep Buffy fighting until Faith was exhausted; after all, did he care if he pushed the Slayer past the limits of endurance? What better outcome? One Slayer dies at the hand of the other, and the survivor expires from sheer exertion.

Cordelia cursed herself; the naginata was blade-heavy to begin with, and the curve made it wildly unbalanced. The minute it left her hand, the weapon began to wobble, the sleek head pulling it down and away from the intended target.

Trick's vision was focused to a pinpoint; he never saw the naginata sail over the heads of the fighters. It arced in from his left, the point of the blade dropping, a weapon that was never meant to be thrown, launched by a person with no training in the discipline, so it passed behind him and clattered on the floor, but on its way past, the blade sliced neatly across the back of his left thigh. The pain raced through Trick's central nervous system, and produced an involuntary, unavoidable response: his leg jerked forward and his hand went back to grasp the burning wound. It was an act of reflex, and Trick's iron will cut even that short, but…

The iron cap loosened. Buffy raised her chin and closed her eyes. "Do it," she ordered.

Faith had one shot and she took it. Her fist smashed into Buffy's solar plexus. The air emptied from Buffy's lungs with a whoosh and she dropped, gasping, to her knees even as the vise tightened around her head again. Faith launched herself, hurdling over Buffy and falling out of the sky onto Trick. He saw doom descending and vamped as she landed, catching her by the upper arms. The impact knocked the saber from her hands, but Faith followed her momentum and whipped her head forward, the arch of her forehead catching him on the forehead ridge. Trick flinched and Faith tore her arms from his grasp.

"Motherfucker!" she screamed over and over as they grappled. "Motherfucker!" Trick gave ground, dazed from the head butt, hampered by a left leg that didn't move quite the way he wanted. Faith threw a looping right hand that he blocked with a forearm. He reached out, grabbed a handful of her long hair, and yanked as hard as he could.

Faith went with it, grabbing his forearm as she went down, her feet kicking out in front of her as she slid between his legs on her butt. She yanked hard as she completed her slide and felt his hand come free, followed by a burning sensation in her scalp. Trick stared dumbly at a handful of long black hair. Faith twisted up behind him, locking her arms around his neck.

"For Lindsay, motherfucker," she hissed, and twisted with all her Slayer strength. Trick's head turned almost a full 180; his spinal cord sheared cleanly. He dropped to the floor, his face returning to its normal phase, his eyes blinking as he realized that he could not move.

"Wait here," Faith said, raking her hair back from her face. Blood trickled out of her hairline and from a cut on her forehead, splitting into two rivulets that ran down either side of her nose. "You get to watch, but I'll be back."

Buffy struggled up from her knees, breath returning. Her club was gone, lost somewhere in the melee, so she reached behind her and pulled out the stakes, the lengths of ash turned by the shop class, brutal instruments turned into works of art that fit her hands like her own skin. Xander was to her right, barely holding off a vampire. Buffy smiled grimly and waded into the work she was born to do.

The world exploded; the star went supernova, and light so bright and clear as to be beyond human description blasted Willow, and in a panic but she was already falling, and instead of crushing her directly, she felt it peel away her skin and hair and eyes…

And pass through her, funneled somewhere else, leaving her empty, hollow, and dazed as she dropped through the limitless void..

It was impossible to describe the noise, the sound, the sensation that enveloped the library, but Xander remembered his aunt played the jaw harp, and the ludicrous thought flashed through his mind that this must be what it would have been like to be inside one of those twangs.

In the frozen moment, as all combatants blanched in the presence of whatever had just happened, Buffy saw the Mayor pivot in slow motion, turning toward Faith, whose back was to him as she battled two vampires. Wilkins's hand went into his coat and reappeared clutching a long, wicked-looking knife. His lips curled back from suddenly jagged teeth; an animal scream erupted from his throat as he lunged forward. As reality warped back into its normal progression, the Slayer pushed her foe away, dropped her stakes, and launched herself at the Mayor. Her full body weight was behind the kick that caught him squarely in the chest. Wilkins staggered back as Buffy landed on the balls of her feet. Everything felt sharp and clear; the brawl around her receded in the distance as he righted himself. Buffy raised her hands, not sure what to do next; that kick should have knocked him into next week. A sadistic smile creased the Mayor's face as he stabbed with the knife. Buffy twisted and allowed the blade to pass, then threw her right elbow full into Wilkins's face. His head snapped back, then he smiled at her, blood trickling from a cut under one eye where her elbow had landed. He slashed with the knife from right to left; Buffy jumped back, then grabbed his arm as it passed and used his momentum to spin him completely around until he faced away from her, then put her foot in the small of his back and pushed with all her might. Wilkins took a few off-balance running steps, then righted himself. Buffy looked down and there, in a suddenly open space in the battle, was her club. She snatched it up as the Mayor spun and charged back at her. He came around with a vicious strike that would have impaled her through the neck, but instead of moving away, Buffy stepped toward him and whipped the club around in front of her. It caught his forearm, and she felt the bone splinter under her blow. His grip on the knife loosened, but Buffy brought the club back across in a full roundhouse backhand that caught him in the face. It should have torn his head off, but Wilkins rocked back on his heels and remained upright. The Slayer struck him in the chest with the end of the club and pushed with all her weight and strength, running him backwards, then she jumped back, club held in two hands behind her right ear. Wilkins looked at her, and Buffy's blood ran cold. His right forearm was at a weird angle, but his hand still held the knife, and his head was askew on his neck. His jaw hung loose and dislocated as blood trickled from his mouth. The Slayer gulped as the Mayor twisted his neck like a man trying to work out a crick and resettled his head atop his spinal column. He whipped his head back and forth, and with a sharp crack his jaw snapped back into place. He smiled, his eyes burning and otherworldly, and shifted the knife to his left hand. He opened his mouth to shout something, but as the Slayer watched, a ripple ran through his frame, and a thin, sharp black line appeared, separating him from reality; the line grew sharper, the Mayor's image seemed to curl around the edges, like a picture tossed into a fire, and then…

Something snaked out of that edge of blackness and enveloped Wilkins. It folded inward and he went with it, mouth open in a soundless scream as his torso crumpled. For a moment he appeared in tableau, highlighted against black light, then he… disappeared. For the briefest of moments, there was an absence where he had been, and Buffy heard a sound she could have sworn was a ululating shriek, and caught a whiff of gunpowder and sulfur, then the moment was past and the fight changed.

With Trick down and the Mayor… gone, most of the vampires, goblins, and beasties realized that their visions of riches and power were kaput. There was no longer a reason for them to fight, so they turned tail and ran. A few fought, but Faith and a recovered Buffy made short work of them. Giles went to one knee as the Slayers chased the last monsters into the hallway, then stopped as their enemies fled into the night, exhaustion too great a burden even for Slayer strength and stamina to overcome. The girls looked at each other, covered in ashes, dirt, muck, and blood.

Faith watched the fleeing monsters, hands on her hips, blood running down her face, scratches and cuts on both arms, her breath coming in great heaving gasps. She watched, then turned and stalked back into the library. Trick lay on the floor, slack and unmoving, eyes staring up at the ceiling as his body looked to be trying to run to his left, unresponsive to the demands his brain made even now. His eyes blinked and rolled, then fastened on the approaching Slayer. Faith crouched beside him, and their eyes locked, two hate-filled stares. Trick's upper lip curled in a sneer. Faith smiled, a terrifying grimace. "Yeah," she said, "fuck you, too."

"Faith-" Buffy began.

The dark Slayer held up a hand. "Back off, B." She looked at Trick and the pain and loathing in her gaze threatened to ignite the atmosphere. "You sonofabitch," she said. "You took the only person who ever loved me, and you made me watch while you hurt her, and if there was any way, I'd make you hurt worse, but I can't." She stood and raised one foot. "Good night, motherfucker." Buffy turned away as the foot came down, hard, and more than once. She couldn't describe the sound, but she would never forget it.

Giles had recovered his breath by the time Faith finished stomping on the ashes. "You know," he said, rising slowly, "you might be wrong. I don't think Trick is going to enjoy the welcome he receives when he shows up in hell."

"Good," Faith said. "Torture for eternity is just the beginning of what he deserves."

Willow stared up at the ceiling of Giles's office, gagging and choking, her eyes refusing to focus correctly. She rolled onto her right side and coughed, then became aware of a sobbing sound behind her. She rolled back onto her left side.

Tyler made the sound, a sad, pitiful little cry, part gasp and part cough, as he stared dumbly at the ceiling. His eyes, those incongruous chocolate eyes, turned to Willow as she scrambled to his side. She ran her hands over his shirt, but there was no blood, no wound she could see. "What–?"

She saw it then: his hands were bone-white, but the fingertips were a noxious purple-black. As Willow watched, the ashy tint spread toward his elbows. She grabbed his forearm and gasped; it was so cold. His breathing came fast and shallow as he looked at Willow, but no recognizable sounds came out. The skin at the hollow of his throat took on a blanched, dull look as his respirations began to hitch. His eyes looked into Willow's, pleading, desperate, the unanswerable question boring into her soul.

"Tyler," she cried, "hang on… I'll get help" but she didn't move, partially because his right hand had become tangled in the sleeve of her sweater and partially because, deep down, she knew.

His mouth opened; his shallow breathing hissed. Willow realized he was trying to say something. She leaned over close to his mouth, close enough that she could feel that even his breath was cold on her cheek. An icy draft touched her ear, and faintly: "I didn't let go…"

And then the light went out; his eyes clouded over like an octogenarian with icy silver cataracts. Willow fell back on her heels, gasping, unable to form a coherent thought.

"What was that?" Joyce Summers got up and went to the window. She held back the curtain and peered out at the street. She turned around at a noise behind her and saw Matti Hollis struggle to a sitting position. "Did I hear something?"

"No." Matti paused, breathing hard. "It might be time to go to the school."

"I'll give you the high sign if I need you. Let me go in first and make sure everything's safe." Buffy glanced at the restroom door, then back at her Watcher. "Just watch my back."

Giles nodded and pushed his glasses up. "How exactly am I supposed to do that? Watch your back, I mean."

"What? Giles, I…" The Slayer shook her head. "Just wait out here. If I scream… I don't know, just do something." She pushed open the door and went in. She found Faith in the far stall, on the floor, wedged between the toilet and the metal partition. Buffy put her hands on either side of the stall door and leaned in slightly. "You know, this looks like the poster for a bad after-school special."

"Go away."

"You know I can't do that." Buffy squatted just inside the door. "Faith, I-"

"Just go away. Just leave me alone." The dark Slayer turned her head away.

"No." Buffy duck-walked forward, reaching out her hands.

"B, I'll kick you right in the face, I swear to God." Faith pulled away and drew herself even tighter to the wall.

"Faith-" Buffy stopped, then took a deep breath. "You got him."

There was a ragged intake of breath, then a heartbreaking sob. "It's not enough."

"I know. It'll never be enough."

Faith's cry was a spear through Buffy's heart. "I just… I didn't… What do I do now? Huh, B? What do I do now?"

Buffy stretched out her hand. "Now, you take my hand, and you get up off the bathroom floor, and we go back to the library together. Together's the important word here. I'm with you, Faith, all the way, but I can't make you do anything. C'mon."

Faith looked at the extended hand, her mouth working, and for a split-second, Buffy was sure she was going to get kicked in the face, then the dark Slayer pushed herself forward, and the two girls embraced on the floor of the bathroom stall. Faith shivered as she cried, sobs that Buffy felt to her very soul; she had cried them herself. As the weeping lessened, Buffy put her hand on Faith's elbow.

"C'mon, let's go," she said. "I know some of the people who use this bathroom. We should get out of here quick." She half-supported the brunette Slayer as they pushed through the door into the hallway. Giles raised his eyebrows in a silent question, but Buffy just shook her head and guided Faith down the hall, the Watcher trailing behind.

Xander sprawled across the floor, arms and legs splayed out. Cordelia sat with her back propped against a bookcase. She eyed him critically and said, "You do know you're lying in a puddle of something, right?"

Xander sighed deeply. "I don't care."

"Anybody free to unlock me?" Oz's voice drifted from the back. Angel got up from his seat on the steps and headed through the stacks. After a clatter of chains and sounds of movement, Oz appeared.

"Hey," Xander said, twisting his head around without raising it from the floor, "how come your clothes are clean?"

"Oh, I, uh, I took 'em off before I changed."

"Thank God you didn't call for reinforcements." Cordelia combed her fingers through her hair and examined the gunk on her fingers. "There will not be enough conditioner in the world."

"You do realize that wolves never wear clothing?" Xander said.

"What?"

"It's just… wolves are always naked, so to speak, so if you saw Oz-"

"Did you take a blow to the head?" Cordelia flicked the goo at him.

"We could change the subject," Oz said. "Where are Faith and Buffy?"

Xander made a vague motion with one hand. "Faith stomped Trick into dust, then ran out of the room. Buffy and Giles went after her."

Oz nodded. "Where's Willow?"