"Well lookie here," said a camouflage-clad goon as he stalked up to Buffy's cell, "Got wise to the drugs in the food, eh? What do you want instead? Taser? Tranqs? Or we could just break your arms so you can't fight back."

"How about that last one, except I do it to you," said Buffy, snarling from inside her cell.

He laughed. "Finn, get a load of this one."

And then there was Riley Finn, the nice midwestern boy who she'd dropped textbooks on and who'd flirted with her at a party.

She gaped and raged and lunged toward the glass, careful not to touch it. "Riley?!"

"Shit," Riley muttered.

"Well what'd you think was gonna happen?" said Buffy. "You start kidnapping girls around campus, probably at least one of them is gonna have eaten cheese with you. Is this why you were all flirty? To get close to me and then wham! – hostage?"

"Bu— Hostile . No," said Riley, "I had no idea you were even— Wait, why are you here? What—?"

"Alright, Finn," said the other goon, "Leave your girl troubles for the girls, alright? This one's something else."

"What is she?" said Riley, "All I was briefed on was humanoid, unnatural strength, agility, reflexes. Vampire?"

"We don't know," said the other man, "But that's what Walsh wants to find out. I was just trying to decide the best way to get her over to the lab in one piece."

Riley huffed, "Just open the cell."

"What—"

"I said open the cell. That's an order."

The soldier did as he was told, and Riley stepped in and grabbed Buffy's arm roughly. She was about to fight back when he whispered, "Don't fight. They can make it hell for you. Play along and I'll figure this out."

Buffy knew he was right, that she didn't stand a chance against however many soldiers they had in this place. She spit in his face, "Fine."

She didn't realize her fine would give Riley permission to take out a syringe and sedate her, but he did it anyway.

"What the f—?" she mumbled as she passed out.

"What am I supposed to say?" Xander hissed.

"Use your, erm, military experience from that Halloween," said Giles, "Tell them you have information and that you want to be a part of their…—"

"Club?" said Xander. "I don't really have any information, Giles. What if they kidnap me, too?"

Giles couldn't help but to laugh, "I don't think they are going to be interested in you, Xander. Now go."

Xander approached the door. Be cool , he thought. Then he knocked in a musical cadence and he cursed inwardly.

The door opened, and two chiseled men were glaring at him.

"Uh—hi," said Xander.

"We're not buying," said Graham.

"Or converting," said Forrest.

"Oh, I'm not a salesman or a Mormon," Xander clarified. "I'm actually interested in joining your club."

"We're not accepting new pledges," said Forrest, and he tried to close the door.

Xander stopped him. "Yeah, see…" He forced the door back open, "That's not what I meant. I know what you do here. And if you want those beans to remain firmly un-spilt and in their can… Well, I think you'd better let me in so we can talk."

"You're a good pillow," Willow muttered, now cuddled with Tara in a corner of their cell.

"Are y-you kidding?" Tara said, "I haven't had s-something soft or warm to sleep on in days. You're a godsend." She smirked, lopsided, "I mean, having some company is good too."

"It's freezing in here," Willow said, and Tara hugged her closer, "I wish I had my magicks. Could make us a nice little ball of fire."

"But with no marshmallows to toast…"

"I betcha those commandos have some in the back somewhere. We just gotta ask the right questions." Willow yawned. Her eyes drifted closed and she began to fall asleep—

Suddenly, the lights in their cell clicked on, both girls squinting underneath the harsh fluorescence.

"Um— morning?" Willow said, sitting up. Two guards stood outside their cell as a third punched a code into the door.

"They're conscious," one commando said. Willow almost giggled at how afraid he looked.

"These ones can't do anything," said the one unlocking the door. "Got 'em on a leash, that's why the boss lets them share cells. This tech has 'em weak as kittens. Have the tranqs ready though, just in case. Kittens have claws, after all."

Willow glanced at Tara. Willow's own fear wasn't as funny as the commando's, but Tara seemed used to this.

"Damn," said the second guard, all smiles at Willow—and not the wholesome kind. "These hostiles're just getting cuter and cuter, huh?"

"I dunno," said the third as he finally opened the door and stepped inside. He moved dangerously close to Tara, "Red's cute, but you boys know Fourteen's my girl." He tilted Tara's chin up with a gloved hand, and Tara tried to cower.

Willow was overcome with disgust and she slapped his hand away, "Don't touch her!"

Suddenly, there were three tranquilizer guns trained on Willow and she quickly put her hands in the air.

"Um… Okay, why don't we talk about this?" she squeaked. "Without the use of… big guns. Or small guns. Any guns at all, really. I prefer a… gunless talk. I suppose water guns would be—"

"You," said the man who had touched Tara. He grabbed Willow roughly by the arm, "Let's go."

"What if I don't?" Willow said. She thought for a moment, "Oh. Right. The guns."

"Willow," said Tara, "Don't—"

"I'll be fine," Willow said as she let the men take her away, "Don't have too much fun without me!"

When Buffy awoke, she was in a different cell. Her shoulder hurt like hell, and she was surrounded by scientist-types watching her like she was a circus animal.

"Yeah, okay," Buffy said. "Totally not into this. What the hell do you want?" Buffy seethed.

"Not much," came a feminine voice, and Buffy turned as her eyes focused to reveal none other than her own Professor Walsh, "Just take a run on that treadmill in your cell."

"Professor Walsh?" said Buffy, "What the heck?"

"Run, hostile," said Walsh.

"No way," said Buffy, noting the electrodes attached to her body and trying to rip them off.

"If you don't cooperate…" said Walsh, and she reached for a button.

"No!" cried Riley, "I mean— She'll cooperate. Right, Hostile?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, but Riley seemed quite afraid for her. She hopped onto the treadmill and started to run at an even pace. "I'm gonna get out of here, you psychos," said Buffy, "And I'm gonna shut you down."

"Keep an eye on her readings," said Walsh to one of her scientists. She approached the cell, "We will find out what you are, Hostile."

"That all you wanna know?" said Buffy, halting her run. "I mean. Little girl with unnatural strength who fights vampires. You'd think it's pretty obvious."

Walsh stared at her blankly.

"Oh, I get it," said Buffy. "You guys have no idea what you're doing, do you? Why don't you leave the monster-hunting to the pros like me, okay? Listen, you let me outta here and I'll tell you all about what I am and what I do."

"Too dangerous," Walsh shrugged. "You're too powerful to let run amok around humans."

"I am a—" Buffy sighed and continued running. "Whatever. You wanna play god for a bit? I've stopped apocalypses scarier than you. Hell, I've stopped monsters of the week scarier than you."

Some new soldiers entered and stood at attention.

"The new witch is in examination now," said one of them.

"Good," said Walsh. "I think these girls will prove very useful to us."

They had forced Willow to strip—they hadn't bothered to knock her out or anything, she assumed because the device on her neck rendered her powerless—and now she sat on an examination table in a too-big hospital gown that left her feeling cold and exposed. Scientists bustled about, and one doctor put on some exam gloves and turned on a tape recorder.

"Subject is designated Hostile Number 24," he said in a voice that sounded like it had never expressed an emotion, "Commencing preliminary examination."

He took a flashlight and shined it in her eyes. She shut them on instinct–"Ow, hey!"–so he took her eyelids and held them open one at a time.

"Height: approximately 65 inches. Weight: approximately 120 pounds. Humanoid in figure. Slender build. Feminine. Eyes: green. Hair: red, auburn at the roots. Age: approximately 18—"

"I'm 19," Willow huffed.

The doctor didn't answer, and commenced to perform a full check-up, taking her pulse and blood-pressure, testing her reflexes and looking inside her throat.

"Don't I at least get a lollipop?" Willow quipped when he seemed about finished.

"Subject speaks fluent English," said the man, "All vitals are indistinguishable from those of a human."

"That's because I am a human," said Willow, "Won't you people just listen to me?"

The doctor pulled out a big, sharp needle and some empty vials. Willow flinched away.

"Whoa, wait!" she said, "You're taking more blood? You took a bunch when I was out yesterday."

"Hold still," said the doctor. She tried to scramble away, and a soldier held her down hard enough to bruise her arms. The doctor drew vials of blood until Willow was sure she was going to pass out. He kept talking to his tape recorder, "Initial exam complete. Will transfer subject to observation for testing."

"Wait, what?" said Willow, "Testing? This wasn't the testing? There's more testing?" She watched one of the assistants take out another needle, this one filled with medicine.

The doctor continued, "Administering sedative prior to deactivation of Inhibitor."

"Wait! Hey, drugs aren't necessary. I got two legs, don't I? Can't we walk there?"

But it didn't stop him. The needle slid into her arm and no matter how hard she tried to stay awake, Willow was asleep in seconds.

Buffy woke up back in her cell, legs aching from her unpleasant run.

"Ugh," she moaned.

"Look who's up!" said William, "Was quiet for a while. Thought you might be dead 'cept for the snoring."

"I don't snore," said Buffy. She took stock of herself, noted that her shoulder still throbbed. She reached awkwardly to rub her hand over the small cut on her back that was already starting to heal.

"They cut ya open?" William guessed, "Put something in or take things out? Or maybe just peeled away the wrapper to see what's inside."

"Not sure," said Buffy, "They made me run on a treadmill."

"What?" said William, "You're getting a light jog in, meanwhile I'm getting brain surgery?"

"Brain surgery?"

"Yep," said William, "Haven't figured out yet what they did but I know my head hurts like the devil and it's all stitched up with grandma's sewing kit."

"Brain surgery," said Buffy again. "Oh god, I gotta get outta here."

"Okay," Willow muttered as she came to, "This is happening way too often now. I would love to spend a little less time unconscious." She opened her eyes and realized she was in another cell, but this time the glass separated her from a lab full of scientists that watched her. "Um. Hi?" She realized she was still in the hospital gown and tried to cover up as best she could. "Will you stop staring? It's wigging me out," Willow whined. "What do you want from me?"

"We want to learn, Miss Rosenberg," came a feminine voice as a new figure stepped into the room, "Surely you can understand that."

"P-Professor Walsh?" said Willow, "What—? Don't you… like, have classes to teach?" She blinked, "Also, what are you doing hanging with an evil military organization?"

"Such a shame," said Walsh, pacing in that way villains always did, "You were such a bright student. I should have known there was something nefarious underneath that inquisitive charm."

"Nefarious? Me?" said Willow. "What are you talking about? I'm totally… Farious."

"Enough talk," said Walsh, "Use your abilities, Hostile."

"I have lots of abilities," said Willow. "Got a computer that needs hacking?"

"Your magical abilities, Hostile." Professor Walsh was losing her patience, and Willow felt a strange combination of guilt and giddiness at the prospect of making a teacher mad.

"I can't," said Willow, "Pretty metal necklace. Weak as a kitten. Ring any bells?"

"The Inhibitor has been deactivated temporarily," Walsh said. "You displayed pyrokinesis when you met our agents. If you are like the other so-called witches we've captured, there are many other 'magical' abilities you have. There is an object on the other side of the glass in your cell. Please use telekinesis to move it."

Willow noticed the separate compartment within her cell that contained some wooden blocks. "Or," Willow said, "There's a bunch of goons on the other side of this glass who I can a-annihilate with telekinesis. What do ya think of that?"

"You can try," said Walsh, "But the wall itself is impervious to your 'witchcraft'. Nothing you do can affect anything outside of your cell."

Willow huffed and went to wipe a hair from her face. Then she realized that her body was covered in electrodes. "What the heck?"

"Move the blocks, Hostile."

"What are these wires for, dare I ask? Maybe then I'll— I'll move your stupid blocks."

"We are taking constant readings," said Walsh with a sigh and an annoyed click of her tongue. "Your heart rate, your blood oxygen, brain waves, hormone levels… We are studying how this so-called magic affects and is affected by biology and in turn what types of physiological responses the body has to manipulation of extra-natural energy."

Willow thought that was kinda cool. "Huh. Why?"

"That is none of your business, Hostile," said Walsh. "We will also measure the amount of energy contained within your abilities. Everyone has a different level of supernatural potential. We've found a way to pinpoint exactly who is naturally predisposed to be able to harness this type of power. The question is: what causes that disparity in the first place?"

"Yeah… that doesn't sound like eugenics at all," said Willow, sarcastic. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because I know you," said Walsh, "I know how much you love to learn, how much you appreciate the scientific method. I'd hoped that if you knew what we were doing here, you might be inclined to cooperate."

"You're still morally bankrupt kidnappers whose end-goal is hazy at best. I'm good."

"Hostile 24," said Walsh, "Move the damn blocks."

"No," said Willow. "Where's Buffy?"

"Buffy Summers is just another piece of this scientific puzzle, and you needn't worry about her."

"Let us go, you sicko," said Willow.

"If you don't cooperate, we can make things very uncomfortable for you, Hostile," said Walsh, "Those electrodes do more than just take readings, you know."

"What do you—" Willow was cut off by her own scream as one lab assistant hit a button that sent a terrible electric shock through her body.

"What do you know?" asked Forrest.

"Where should I start?" said Xander, "How about the kidnappings? The military goons running around and dragging little girls back to their secret base?"

"Don't tell anyone the base is here," said Forrest quickly, panicked, and Xander was surprised just how quickly he was able to get some information. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," said Xander. "Unless—I could bargain for the release of some prisoners?"

"Or we could kill you," said Graham. "Not as messy."

That wasn't going to work. "Kidding!" said Xander, "I just thought it'd be like in the movies or something. I want to join you."

"Join us?"

"Yep. Always wanted to join the army. Red-blooded Americans fighting a common enemy."

"And what is that enemy?" asked Graham.

"Um—" said Xander, "You know. Witches and stuff."

"The supernatural," said Forrest, "How do you know all this?"

"Research," said Xander, "I know more about this town than you, and have been fighting this fight longer. Let me join up, and I'll show you how to bring the fight to them."

Willow panted, bloody drool dripping from her mouth as she'd bit her tongue seizing during one of the shocks they'd barraged her with as she refused to use her magick. "Please," she moaned, "Stop."

"Use. Your. Powers." Walsh said.

Willow was on the verge of passing out, and she wondered if the scientists could see that in their readings. "N-n-n—" Willow stuttered, "I w-won't."

Another shock tore through her nerves, this one initiated by Walsh herself, and Willow couldn't help it: magic slipped out in the name of self-preservation. She involuntarily re-directed the electricity from her veins back out into the machine that had produced it. Willow collapsed with a nosebleed as Walsh flinched and screamed from the shock.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" said one of the lab assistants, running to her side. "The machine must have malfunctioned. I'll call maintenance."

"I'm fine," said Walsh through gritted teeth. She glared at Willow, "And it wasn't the machine."

A different lab assistant sat at another contraption as it printed out readings. He waved Walsh over. "Ma'am? I think you need to see this."

She leaned over the man and read from the newly-printed sheet. Her eyes widened with surprise, then curiosity. And then an evil little smirk spread across her face.