Almost two weeks now Willow had been trapped in this hellhole, long enough that she was losing count of the days, and she still had no clue how she was going to escape, let alone save Buffy. Plus Tara, and whatever other innocent people were stuck here. She should have listened to Giles, she thought as she laid awake in what she presumed was very early morning. This was a terrible idea.

Willow sighed in not-quite-defeat as she snuggled closer to Tara to escape the cool sterile air. "You're warm," she said.

"Thought that's the point," Tara mumbled, half-asleep. Or three-quarters-asleep, Willow thought.

"No, Tara," said Willow, sitting up. "I mean you're really warm." She put a hand on her forehead, "I think you have a fever or something."

"Oh," Tara muttered. "Yeah, I don't f-feel so good."

"I'll say," said Willow. Tara was shaking, curled over her side where the scientists had so recently cut into her.

Willow carefully took the hem of Tara's shirt and pulled it up.

"Oh," Willow winced at the partially-healed scar. "That's like, infected-infected. Tara, you need a doctor."

"G-g-great," Tara stuttered. "I'll j-just pop on b-by the c-campus health c-center."

Willow tried to grin at the sarcasm, but she was worried. "We gotta tell the guards," she said.

"I d-don't think they'll care, Willow."

"We're their science experiments," said Willow. "They don't care if we're uncomfy, but they don't want us to die. Right?"

"They don't want you to d-die, Will," said Tara. "The rest of us… I've seen a lot of witches come and go already."

William was muttering something. Buffy tuned into her ultra-efficient Slayer senses to hear him more clearly.

"Heart… art… smart… Hmmm, no that's not it…"

Buffy blinked. "Um. Part?"

"Perfect!" cried William, "'Betwixt cardinal thuds of still-beating hearts…'"

"That's actually kinda beautiful," Buffy mused.

"''Tis mine love which maims these still-bleeding parts.'"

"...Nevermind," said Buffy. "Are you… writing poetry?"

"Look, I'm bloody bored, okay? Heaven forbid I have a creative side."

Buffy sighed. She knew William was a vampire or worse, and maybe it was because he was the only non-mad-scientist, non-commando she'd spoken to in two weeks, but dammit if she wasn't finding herself feeling a little reluctantly friendly towards the guy.

"Who is she?" said Buffy. "I mean, whoever the poem's about."

"I don't wanna talk about it," said William. "She bloody took off, okay? Thought I was over it… But love'll take a lap around the block like that, won't it?"

"Yeah," said Buffy. "Similar sitch with my ex. I… try not to think about him."

"Way I see it," said William, "Who are we to be all googly-brains over some two-faced has-beens. We're the ones got a whole damn branch of the military keepin' us locked up. We're special. They're nothing."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Glad you feel special. I just feel pissed off and a little bored."

"You're right," said William. "It's time to get out of here. Next time they show up, I'm gonna pretend to be all knocked out and then I'm gonna fight 'em."

"I've thought of that," said Buffy. "But they've got all those weapons."

"Weapons, schmepons," said William. He seemed invigorated, and his accent slipped as he lost his inhibitions with the fantasy of freedom, "Like a bullet's gonna stop William the Bloody. I've killed bloody Slayers!"

Buffy flew away from their shared wall. "Oh my god. Spike?!"

There was a moment of shocked silence before Spike said, "Slayer?!"

"I can't believe I was beginning to not hate you."

"I can't believe you heard my poetry."

"So what's this mean?" said Buffy. "Truce is off?"

"Truce is definitely off. No way I'm helping the likes of you!"

They both heard footsteps start down the hall.

"Or," Spike continued. "Guess I can't kill you if you're locked up in here, huh?"

"...And I'd way rather make you into a pile of dust than keep you all solid and able to eat people."

"So truce for now," said Spike. "And soon as we see moonlight… It's to the death, Slayer."

"Deal."

"How is your beverage?" said Giles.

"Adequate," Walsh replied. "And yours?"

"Um. Very good, yes," said Giles.

There was a long, awkward silence, the chatter of the Espresso Pump around them doing very little to fill the uncomfortable space.

"Do you… come here often?"

"There's a percolator in my office. So no."

"Right," Giles said. "Um, so where are you from?"

"Mr. Giles, I really am not interested in small talk. Please, you know as well as I do that this date is to test our romantic compatibility, so please discuss what you are really interested in."

"Well," said Giles. "Besides your…" He cleared his throat, "...unequivocal beauty. I am quite interested in your research. How long have you studied psychology?"

"It feels like since I was a girl," said Walsh. "We're always studying psychology, aren't we? Anytime we are trying to understand another person."

Giles nodded, "Indeed. The human mind is fascinating. So many varying beliefs, in gods and in sciences… in magic and demons…"

"You seem awfully interested in that particular part of my research," said Walsh.

Giles wasn't sure if she was suspicious, "The rumors that swirl around this town, can you blame me?"

"I am not blaming you, Mr. Giles. Nor judging you at all. I think your fascination with the topic is…" She looked him in the eyes and grinned slightly (which Giles found a little off-putting), "...Well, fascinating. To me."

Xander pushed the mop across the floor, not really caring if he got all the dirt. No, he wasn't looking at what he was doing at all, but instead he looked around at the offices around him, each locked with a kind of digital device that seemed to require a keycard.

One office at the end of the hall was left open, though. And, no one around, he decided to quite nonchalantly mop in that general direction.

He peeked into the room, could see papers and files strewn about a desk. He knew he wouldn't have time to look through them, so he took the opportunity to scan the rest of the room. Hanging on a hook on the wall by the door was a key. Not a key card, but a regular old key. And he had no idea what it went to, but he shrugged and took it. It was better than nothing.

"Excuse me," came a booming voice. Xander whipped around to see a couple of guards. "What are you doing?"

"The, uh, door was open, and I saw something sticky," said Xander. "I was just sweeping up."

"Well you don't need to worry about the offices," said one guard. He shoved him out of the room and shut the door. "If someone left it unlocked, it was a mistake. Stick to your post, broom-boy."

Footsteps approached, and Willow steeled herself for a confrontation. She was going to get Tara help no matter what.

"Alright," said one of the two guards as he unlocked the cell. Willow was starting to recognize them: this was the guard who called her cute on her first day. "Let's go, Twenty-Four."

"No, wait," Willow cried. "You gotta help her. She's really sick."

"Not my problem," said the guard. "On your feet. Or did you want to be carried out?"

Willow saw him reach for his taser, so she stood but backed up instead of going with him. "Hold on. Hold on. Look, I know Walsh is interested in me for some reason, and I know you guys want me to use my powers. Help Tara, and I'll do whatever Walsh wants. Okay?"

The guard rolled his eyes and continued pulling out the taser, but the other guard stopped him. "Hold on," he said. "Get 14 to Med. 24, you come with me. And don't forget your promise, or I'll tell Walsh to let your girlfriend die slow and painful."

"When they come to take me," said Buffy, "Scream."

"What?" said Spike.

"Make the biggest racket you can. Be a distraction. Make it all about you—I know you can do that, Spike."

"Sounds like you're hatching a plan," said Spike. "Hope it's not one of those two-headed chickens."

"I'm gonna pretend to sleep, alright? They'll come take me, and I'm gonna let them. Once they close the door back up, you start making noise. They'll split up and open your cell to knock you out. Then BAM, I'm awake and they don't get a chance. The two of us fight 'em off and take off running."

"Then what?" said Spike.

"That's all I got. These halls gotta end somewhere, right?"

"Fine, Slayer," said Spike. "But this ends up with me under the knife again, I'm gonna kill you extra slow."

"Willow," said Walsh, "I heard you struck a deal with the guards."

"So I get a name now?" said Willow. "A little less like Nazi Germany, I guess. Is Tara okay?"

"Hostile 14 is being administered antibiotics as we speak. She'll be fine." Walsh leaned forward in her chair. "Unless, that is, you choose not to cooperate. Tell me about your power. How do you control it?"

"I don't know," said Willow. "I just do what the books say."

"That can't be all."

"Well," Willow couldn't help getting a little excited to talk about magick. "I mean, it's all about emotional control. It's like… I can't explain it, it's this energy that's always inside you and you have to learn how to tell it where to go."

"When did you develop these powers?"

Willow cocked her head. "I didn't. I mean, they didn't come out of nowhere, two summers ago I did my first spell. I just kept studying till I got better. That's what I'm trying to tell you—I'm not special. Anyone can do magick if they study hard enough."

"Isn't that a sweet, naive way to look at it," said Walsh. "Trust me, Miss Rosenberg. There is a lot more that goes into it than that, or you wouldn't be here." She chuckled, "An intellect like yours, I suppose it only makes sense that it came from somewhere… extra-natural."

"I don't cheat." Willow huffed, "I'm smart because I study."

"Is that so?" said Walsh, "Because mine aren't the only tests you score impeccably on."

"W—" Willow blinked, "What do you mean?"

"We've had lots of so-called 'magic-users' come through here. Done all our tests. Most are… Well, most can't handle what we have in store for them. But you? Your measurements are off the charts."

"What measurements?"

"Your abilities. The extra-natural energy in your bloodstream, the mystical force behind your power. It's unlike anything we've seen." She must have noticed the shock on Willow's face, because she said: "Surely you knew this. You're hugely powerful."

"I'm—" Willow stuttered, "No I'm not. I've only been practicing for a couple years."

"You're more powerful than any other so-called 'witches' or 'warlocks' we've tested."

"What about Tara? The girl who shares my cell?"

"What, Hostile 14? She's nothing special."

"What do you want me to do?" said Willow, "Float some pencils? Summon a little fire?"

"Miss Rosenberg," Walsh said. "I want you to do everything."

"Code 8-13! Code 8-13!" Army-men cried as they ran past Xander, who continued to sweep. He looked up, only mildly interested, to find a dozen commandos surrounding a smallish demon, which was running rampant across the cafeteria. The commandos seemed hesitant, all of them afraid to make a move on the thing.

Xander rolled his eyes. He may not be a Slayer, but he'd taken down a demon this size tens of times, and hardly even with Buffy's help. He picked up his broom and flipped it around. He approached the demon with the broom handle-first, and slammed it into the monster's midsection, bringing it to the ground so the commandos could restrain it.

"Harris," said Graham, approaching from the mass of army-men once Xander had returned to his post. "That wasn't nothing."

"I told you I've got the resume," Xander shrugged. He acted nonchalant, but inside he was quite impressed with himself, and shaky from the adrenaline.

"I think the bigwigs'll be thinking about a promotion after that stunt, Harris," said Forrest.

"Yeah?" said Xander. "No more sweeping floors?"

"Even more sweeping floors, actually," said Graham. "I think we can get you into the labs and maybe even the cell blocks for some deep-cleaning. Clearly you can handle yourself around sub-terrestrials."

Buffy laid on the ground as footsteps approached. She heard her cell open and felt army-men grab her by the arms and legs.

"I'll kill you!" she heard Spike cry. "You idiots think you keep the whole underworld locked away in here? I am William the Bloody! What do you want the Slayer for? Take me, do some tests, drill into my noggin all you want!"

One of the guards rolled his eyes and moved towards Spike's cell. "Quiet down or else, Hostile."

"Or else what?" said Spike. "You know I could snap your neck."

"Like to see you try."

"Gimme a shot," said Spike.

The guard shrugged and drew his taser, opening the cell.

In that moment, Buffy leapt into action. She kicked the guard who had her legs, and flipped over the one that had her arms. Meanwhile, Spike took a swing at his guard—but suddenly Buffy heard him scream in pain, and she whipped around to see Spike writhing on the floor, not a mark on him.

She knew that she couldn't take the three of these guys with their tasers and guns and drugs with Spike incapacitated, and she gritted her teeth as she felt a needle enter her shoulder. "Was worth a shot…" she muttered as she fell unconscious.

"Very good Miss Rosenberg," said Walsh as the fire Willow had conjured danced in her eyes and then went out. "Now let's move on to a different element."

"I… I d-don't think I can do anymore," Willow panted. Walsh had already had her float and move several objects of varying sizes and weights, summon electricity, wind, and fire, and turn a lamp off and on at will, and Willow was rapidly approaching her limit. The witch had briefly considered taking the opportunity to attack Walsh, but she could see that the professor had her hand on a button that Willow was sure would turn her magick-inhibiting collar back on the second she did anything uncouth. "I need to rest."

"Nonsense," said Walsh. She placed a glass of water on the small stool between them. Willow looked grateful as she reached for it, but Walsh pulled it away. "Freeze it."

"I c-can't do water yet," said Willow, wiping a bit of blood from her nose. "Well, I can make it a little colder but I haven't been able to freeze anything. Maybe slush? I don't know."

"Ridiculous," said Walsh. "Do it."

"I don't think you know how magick works, doc," said Willow, peeved. "If I don't know the spell, I don't know the spell."

Walsh waved her hand dismissively, "Our research suggests that these 'spells' are all psychological. It's a placebo. Someone as powerful as yourself shouldn't need them. Your body is already a conduit."

Willow grimaced, "How many witches have you guys tortured and killed to learn this stuff?"

"Combined they don't have the power you have."

"It's not about the power. It's about human lives!" Willow cried. "And I am telling you your stupid machine is broken. I am not that powerful. Even Tara knows more than me."

"Does it upset you? The way we treat witches?"

"Of course!" cried Willow. "You're heartless, cold—!"

"Cold?" said Walsh.

"Duh!" said Willow. "I mean, you're talking about human lives here. Only a cold-hearted monster could be so— so—"

"Cold-hearted," said Walsh. "Tell me about that."

"You are all psychos!" Willow cried. "Cold-hearted is an understatement! More like arctic-hearted. Left ventricles right between the… the waffles and the peas in the freezer aisle. You guys could sink the frickin' Titanic!" She finished her rant gasping for breath. Soon she noticed the mist coming from her own mouth, and then Walsh's. "Did you guys turn the heat down?"

"I think you did, Miss Rosenberg." Walsh walked over and picked up the cup of water, which was now frozen solid. "You told us that using your powers is all about emotional control. When I'm done with you, you won't have any control left. And then we'll see just how powerful you really are."

Willow tried to be afraid at what Walsh had just said, she really did. But she was so tired and thirsty she could hardly pay attention.

"I n-need water," Willow whispered.

"Melt it again and then you can drink it," Walsh shrugged.

Willow looked at the water and tried to focus her powers. She blinked as her eyes went blurry and she tasted blood drip into her mouth. She could just hear the shattering of glass as she let herself slide from the chair and pass out on the floor.

"Dammit," Walsh cursed. "I don't understand, she should be stronger than this." She turned to a guard, "Open the door. Tell the lab to give her fluids and then take her back to her cell. I've got some work to do with the Slayer anyway."