CHAPTER 41
“We could,” Willow said softly. “If I could find the server…” Rubbing at her face, she wouldn’t meet Buffy’s eyes. “I’ve been trying all night. The military computers don’t have the information, and I’m running a check on the university servers right now. They’re a long shot, Buffy. Not even the techno-idiots at UCS would miss Professor Walsh hijacking an entire system to play with Robo-Ethan; not to mention how old the equipment is here. The university is lucky it can run anything more complex than a couple TIs.”
Buffy didn’t know what a “TI” was. She didn’t care. Willow managed to get her message across despite the computer mumbo jumbo: finding an answer wasn’t going to be easy. Of course not. That would have been too…well, easy. “Where else can we look?” She didn’t want to give up yet. Maybe there was a chance to salvage her idea. “What kind of computer would Walsh need?”
Finally looking up, Willow shrugged. “It’s not the computer that’s important. I can control Ethan from here once we make contact with the chip.”
Buffy was tempted to bang her head on the table. Damn Willow and all the technical jargon. Keeping her voice calm and steady, she said, “I don’t get it. You said you needed a ‘server’. How can you use your laptop if you don’t have that?” Some of her frustration leaked out at the end, and Buffy watched Willow flinch as her voice rose.
“Does it matter, B?” With her usual hack and slash logic, Faith interrupted. “Why don’t we just get the info out of Walsh? Bet she can’t take more’n a few smacks before she gives up the goods.”
Tara’s hand tightened around Buffy’s, and a quick glance in her direction showed clear disgust and disagreement. Too bad. For once, a little casual violence hadn’t sounded like a bad strategy. Reluctantly sticking to the moral high ground, Buffy shook her head. “We don’t work that way, Faith.” Even when it might save the world. “Let Will finish explaining about the computers, OK? Then we’ll see what other options we’ve got.”
The grip on Buffy’s hand eased and even Giles appeared pleased with Buffy’s choice. Perfect. She was turning into a mini-Watcher, complete with her own slow down and think motto. Barely stifling a groan, Buffy gestured with her free hand at Willow. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Um… Do you really want me to tell you about servers?” Willow asked, clearly believing Buffy was kidding.
No. Buffy really just wanted Willow to do her magic with the computer without giving them all headaches. However, she’d vowed to take more responsibility in finding a solution, and that meant learning what it was that Willow actually did on her laptop. “Yep. Lay it out for me.” Buffy even managed an encouraging smile.
The smile worked. Some of Willow’s intensity lifted and she grinned back. “A laptop is for one person, Buffy. You or me.” A hint of mischief lit her eyes. “Or Giles.”
Faith’s snort merged with Joyce’s exaggerated cough. Covering her own laugh with a faked yawn, Buffy nodded. “Got it. One laptop. One person. Does that mean a server equals many people?”
“Yeah. A server’s huge. Well, not in size. They can be really small. Unlike a laptop, servers run really complex operating systems and have networking capabilities.” Hacker Willow was making a noticeable comeback. Her words flowed together and she showed no sign of breathing. “A computer is limited. It’s just a computer. A server can actually link multiple computers and run bunches of programs, all at one time. The human brain would require all that and more. Thoughts, decisions, feelings. Hundreds of thousands of them a second. We’re looking for something big, Buffy. I have to hack that server in order to have a chance at reprogramming Ethan’s chip.”
Long experience with this version of her friend spurred Buffy to interrupt before Willow rambled the rest of the night. “So, Walsh had to use this server thing because running Ethan takes more than one computer?” It took skill to unravel Willowbabble; thankfully, Buffy had had plenty of practice over the years. She knew she’d got the summary correct when Willow nodded. “If we find the super computer, you break in, take it over, and turn Ethan off.”
“Exactly,” Willow said; although, she appeared uncomfortable with Buffy’s glib surety in her success.
Walsh stirred in her bonds. “You will never be able to find that server,” Walsh snarled. “I left those notes on my computer because no one at that pathetic school had the brains to understand them. Do you really think I’d take a chance that anyone would discover my biggest accomplishment?”
For the first time, Buffy almost felt sorry for Walsh. Faith must have shared her sympathy. “Hate to break it to ya’, Doc. You ain’t got a clue what my Red can do. Find your server thing? No problem. Keep your robot from killin’ us all? Got it covered.”
Walsh didn’t look impressed. “I’ve seen little of her talents in class.”
It was too much. Buffy laughed. “You weren’t watching. Not to mention you were teaching the wrong subject. Will’s the best when it comes to things that have real answers or have anything to do with saving the world.” Standing, she stretched and yawned, nearly giddy at the way Walsh slumped in her chair and scowled at her.
The euphoria faded when Willow said quietly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys. But what if she’s right? What if I can’t find the server?”
Walsh’s scowl showed a hint of a smirk, and Buffy jumped to her feet. Tara stood, too, blocking her view of the professor. “Move, Tara,” she said, not bothering to keep her voice down. She was done letting Walsh mock their every move.
“No.” Tara was adamant. She stayed in Buffy’s personal space, blue eyes intent and unflinching. “Don’t you understand? She’s pushing your buttons, Buffy. She wants you distracted and angry.”
“She’s just like the Mayor, Buffy,” Willow chimed in. “Only Walsh uses words and not poisoned arrows.” The comparison shocked Buffy out of her plans for violence and revenge even before Willow continued. “I wonder if she’s going after us for the same reasons, too. Are we on the right track, maybe? Getting a little too close for comfort?” She directed the final questions directly at Walsh.
If Willow hoped to get a reaction out of Walsh, she failed. Buffy ground her teeth at Walsh’s unruffled and superior expression. “How do we help you find that server, Will?” She wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of returning to the underground lab; still, Buffy vowed to do just that if necessary.
“There isn’t much you can do, Buffy.” Willow leaned back in her chair, head resting against Faith’s abdomen. “I’ve got feelers out. There are only a few places in Sunnydale with systems capable of running the types of programs Walsh would need for this.” She hesitated, and Buffy sensed more bad news on the way. “I have to be careful, though. Walsh may have planted boobytraps, viruses or embedded programs if the server is hacked. One wrong keystroke and I could destroy any chance we have of beating Ethan.”
***
Buffy absorbed Willow’s words like a blow. She hunched forward and grimaced, and Tara wondered again how Buffy, how the entire group, faced this type of situation over and over without breaking. She wanted to do something to help, and her first instinct was to wrap her arms around an obviously disheartened Buffy.
Instead, Tara sank back into her chair and stared at the pile of paperwork. Willow couldn’t find the server. If the Goddess leant a hand, and that changed, Willow still might not be able to do anything for fear of unleashing the computer version of an apocalypse.
They were doomed.
“Red, we gotta find a way.” Faith left her spot behind Willow and perched on the edge of the desk, leg brushing Willow’s shoulder. “Think outside the box. So you can’t find the server. How else can ya’ get into Ethan’s head?”
“Short of a frontal lobotomy, you mean?” Willow’s grin lack humor of any kind. “I’m out of ideas, Faith. I am Answer Girl no more. In fact, I think I’ve got more questions than answers.”
The room grew silent. Giles’ chair squeaked when he shifted, and Joyce restlessly straightened a few books on the table next to her. “Perhaps we should consider another plan altogether,” Giles finally offered. “Controlling Ethan carries poor odds. Tara, my dear, if we cannot defeat his magics outright, could we pool our resources to stun him long enough for Buffy and Faith to disable him physically?”
Pool what resources? “Y-you mean me and Wil-Willow?” Tara stuttered in disbelief. They’d tried that on campus – and failed miserably.
“Well, I do have some experience with the arcane.” Giles peered at Tara over the rims of his glasses. “And, in my heyday, I daresay I had more ability than Ethan. Professor Walsh’s computer chip could not enhance his talents that greatly.”
“Yes, they could.” Tara was so intent on conveying that thought her stutter was forgotten. “I don’t care what the notes or Willow say, Ethan is too much for us. I felt him.” And she wasn’t doing it again unless there was a lot of evidence to show he’d lost his connection to the ley lines and nodes.
Unfortunately, her refusal to use magic didn’t help Buffy. Slouching into a chair, Buffy ran both hands through her hair. “Magic is out. Computers are out. That leaves Slayer power.” Her eyes, ringed with exhaustion and darkened by hopelessness, locked onto Faith. “Looks like we need to do more than watch the videos, Faith. How do you feel about setting a few traps of our own?”
“Aw, B. If I wasn’t already with Red…” Faith’s dimples invited everyone to share her mirth – until Willow smacked a hand into her leg and she grunted, smile disappearing. “Damn it, Red, I thought we talked about that. No rough stuff in public.”
Willow turned tomato red as Buffy giggled. “Faith!”
The sharp admonition didn’t faze Faith. With an outrageous wink, she hopped off the desk and kissed Willow as if they were alone in the room. When she broke away, Willow’s flush had deepened. “Don’t let G-man bully you into doin’ some crazy magic trick. Stay with the computer,” Faith ordered before following Buffy from the room.
They left a dazed Willow and a very unhappy Giles in their wake. Tara wanted to jump in before either of them recovered, but she didn’t know what to say. She was out of her element. In her experience, computers were for typing research papers, and magic was simply a way to honor the Goddess and her Creations.
“Willow, can I ask a question?” Joyce hesitantly broke the momentary silence.
Spinning her chair to face Joyce, Willow visibly gathered the tattered remains of her composure. “Sure, Mrs. Summers. About what?”
Joyce tucked her hair behind an ear and waved at the laptops on the desk. “I don’t understand something. You used that laptop,” she said, pointing to the construction foreman’s computer, “to steal the signal for the security videos. You didn’t need a server for that. You only needed to locate the signal, right?”
Willow’s faced scrunched up in confusion. “Yeah. The video feed’s not exactly a big deal, though. Not like Ethan’s chip.”
“I understand that part, honey,” Joyce said dryly. “No matter how many cameras that nasty little man put in this school, he was nowhere near as accomplished as the professor. What I’m wondering, Willow, is this: why do we really need the server?”
Tara wasn’t ready for another lesson in the intricacies of computer, and Willow was very clearly about to give one.
Luckily, Joyce held up her hand to stop the lecture. “Please don’t waste your breath repeating what you said earlier. I was here, and I paid attention. I think you are all missing a very simple solution to your problem.”
“I…I don’t…” For once, Willow didn’t seem to know what to say. Her hands flapped uselessly and she stared blankly at Joyce.
Joyce stood and walked over to the desk. “Honey,” she said, patting Willow’s shoulder gently. “I’m sure finding the server and taking control of Ethan would keep us safe. Do you really need to go that far, though? Why control him? Why not just cut off the signal?”
Willow went so white, Tara thought she might faint. Then the color rushed back until white became bright red. “I still need the server to turn it off!” she snapped. “I need the server and I can’t find it. Don’t you get it?”
“Calm down, Willow.” Joyce wasn’t the calm, gentle mother figure this time. Tara now knew where Buffy got her Command Voice. “It isn’t any different than the radio-controlled Barbie car Buffy had. You turned it off with the remote – your server – but sometimes I could turn it off by cooking something in the microwave.”
She paused and resumed her seat. “We know Ethan will come here,” Joyce pointed out. “He’s been programmed to find Buffy. When he shows up, can you do what that microwave used to do? Interfere with the signal and shut him off?”
“I don’t know,” Willow admitted. “I mean, I guess it’s possible.” She was floundering, all her usual cheerful confidence gone. “If Ethan shows up; if I find something to be your microwave; if we’re all still alive…”
Acting as if Willow’s response was a ringing endorsement, Joyce smiled. “Good. Now we can help Buffy and Faith get set up. Ideas?”
Tara stared at Joyce, wide-eyed. She might not share Willow’s pessimism, but she did realize beating Ethan and all those soldiers wasn’t going to be that easy. Silent seconds passed. Giving up on understanding Joyce, she glanced at the rest of the room.
They didn’t understand, either.
Giles cleaned his glasses with a handkerchief. Little squeaks emitted every time his fingers moved. And Willow seemed intent on typing an entire screen of the same letter; she stabbed at a one key, over and over, as if it were personally responsible for their problems.
It was time for Tara to step in. Step up. “I…W-We,” she stuttered, deciding at the last minute to include Willow in what she hoped would be an acceptable plan, “can’t beat Eth-than with magic. There are other things. N-Not real magic.” Tara wanted to make that point very clear. “Not lightning bolts or f-fireballs. Maybe a glam-mour or wards.”
***
“You think they’re gonna be OK?” Faith asked, interrupting Buffy’s intense study of a locker door.
“What?” Buffy turned, giving Faith her full attention. “What...who are you talking about?”
Faith stopped and smacked one palm against the wall. “Angel.” The name hung in the air while she glared at Buffy. “He was kinda pale the last time I saw him.” With a roll of her eyes, she continued. “Red and your girl. Who the fuck did you think I meant? Get your head outta your ass and pay attention. Will ain’t used to this. She ain’t good with not having the answers; I told you that.”
“Yes, you did.” Buffy stepped into Faith’s space and poked her in the chest. “I listened. Didn’t you hear me tell her she was doing a good job? I even gave you a pat on the back, not that it did any good. What do you want me to do? I know Will doesn’t know everything, but this is what we do. We have a plan. A plan that I came up with because I don’t want Willow to think she has to do it all by herself. Unless she suddenly decides to sit on the sidelines, this is the way it’s always going to be.”
Looking at Buffy’s finger, resting against her chest, Faith mumbled, “She’s scared, B. I don’t…I don’t like it when Red gets that way.”
Buffy sighed and dropped her hand. “Neither do I.” It wasn’t the first time they’d agreed on something; it was, however, the first time Buffy remembered them on the same side of a Willow-involved issue. “Willow shouldn’t be here. None of them should. I mean, my mom? It freaks me out that she even knows about the Slaying. Having her back there…” Stopping the flood of words before she had to actually confront her own fears, Buffy raised her hands in a show of surrender. “All we can do is try to keep them safe, Faith.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Faith sounded as if she was working to convince herself. “How do we do that?” She looked around the dark, trash-strewn hallway. “Things ain’t changed since the last time we came down this way.”
“Sure it has,” Buffy countered hotly. God, she was sick and tired of making motivational speeches. No one ever helped her stay upbeat about another hopeless situation. “The gang is working on controlling Ethan. They know how to do that!” she shouted.
“And what are we doing?” Faith shouted back. “You said we was gonna set traps. With what? Old posters and some beat up lockers?”
The verbal jab hurt, and it was nothing less than the truth. All they had were the remains of a high school Buffy had already destroyed. On the verge of lashing back at Faith, Buffy froze and saw something she’d never noticed before. Faith was scared, too. Their chances of winning relied on one crazy idea. Willow was struggling. They had Giles and Joyce about to take the fall with them.
Faith was scared.
The realization stabilized Buffy’s teetering emotions. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we use. Even if we had guns, that’s not what we do, Faith.” She took another look around the hall. “I know this place better than anyone; that has to count for something. Riley and Ethan aren’t going to know that the stairwell near the English classrooms gives you a perfect place to hide and spy – or throw things – at anyone in the hall.”
“You think we’re gonna be like that kid in the movie? The one that beat up on the guys trying to break into his house?” Laughing, Faith started walking again. “Nice, B. Thought that’d be more my thing. What d’you want to do first?”
Getting into the spirit of the idea, Buffy pointed to a bucket sitting in a doorway. “There are a bunch of bags of concrete back in the science wing. If we mix it up and put it in those buckets, mount them over a few of the doors…”
“Concrete soldiers.” Faith resumed walking. “Remember that big hole in the floor by the gym? Bet if we pulled a tarp or something over it, nobody’d see it in the dark.”
***
Dusting off her hands, Buffy raised an eyebrow at Faith. “Did we take care of your doubts?”
“Nah. I ain’t ever gonna be all sweetness and shit like you, B.” Faith’s dimples taunted Buffy. “I do think them soldiers are screwed, though. Either gonna be covered in concrete, laying in a hole, or stuck in a freezer.”
“Oh, yeah.” Buffy did a victory dance. “Finding that tape recorder was sweet.” Riley had been sniffing around her every day in Psych class; he’d follow the sound of her recorded voice right into that walk-in freezer in the kitchen. “You ready to check in with the gang?” The question wasn’t necessary. Buffy was honestly surprised Faith hadn’t already started toward the construction office.
A tired smirk gave Buffy all the answer she needed, and she braced for Faith’s verbal response. “You itchin’ to get back to your girl, B? You shoulda said something earlier; that last concrete bucket didn’t need two people.”
It was the second time Faith had referred to Tara as Buffy’s girl. “Don’t call her that,” Buffy ordered, not sure why the phrase bothered her so much. She stared at Faith, daring her to comment, to push. When no more taunts were forthcoming, she spun and headed for the office. It had been a long day; it was time to settle in and rest. Experience said Ethan and his goons would be there soon, and they had to be ready.
***
Examining the pile of supplies on the table, Tara allowed herself a small measure of confidence. Willow’s bag of magical tricks and the discovery of a surprisingly well-stocked science classroom meant she could cast a few wards. Enough to cover the areas lacking cameras, anyway.
“I think I found your microwave, Mrs. Summers.” Willow got up from the desk and rubbed her lower back with both hands. “We’re going to have to sacrifice one of Snyder’s cameras, though. I found a website that claims you can use a spy camera and a nine-volt battery to disrupt wireless signals?”
No one answered the query; not that Willow appeared to notice. She paced back and forth, talking to no one in particular. “All I have to do is hook up the battery and turn on the camera. Poof! Like staking a vampire. No more pesky signal. Ethan will be back to his normal, creepy self. No more Super Sorcerer.”
“Wicked.” Faith announced as she and Buffy walked in. “Guess you and me can get home in time for some...” She finished the comment with comically wiggled eyebrows and an outrageous smirk.
Tara giggle, enjoying their continued play.
“Do not, I beg you, say anything more.” Giles held up a hand, lips twitching suspiciously. “Willow and Tara have made great strides while you were gone. Sit down and let them explain what they have planned.”
Faith nodded, but winked at Tara as she sauntered by.
“We’ll take all the good news you have to give.” Buffy walked to the table and sat down in what Tara now considered “her” chair.
“Your mom solved our problem with Ethan,” Willow said. “I think you need to hire her full time, Buffy. She figured out that all we have to do is block the signal Walsh’s computer is sending to Ethan. If you and Faith can get me one of Snyder’s cameras, I can use it as a jammer.”
Buffy pointed a finger at Joyce. “When this is over, you and I are having a long talk.” Then she turned back to Willow. “So you do this jamming thing. Got it. Giles said you and Tara had news, though. What else?”
Hesitantly, Tara picked up the conversation. “I’ve got a f-few th-things. Magic,” she said softly. “I can put up w-wards where th-there aren’t cam-meras. Maybe even cast a glamour.” Buffy’s face scrunched in confusion so Tara elaborated. “A f-fake image. I c-can make the s-soldiers see someth-thing that’s not there.”
A slow, sinister smile lit Buffy’s face. “I have the perfect place for that.” She looked at Faith, who echoed her evil expression. “What do you think, Faith?”
“Oh, yeah.” Tara shivered at the chill satisfaction in Faith’s reply. “Them assholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”
“What…What precisely have you planned?” Giles didn’t sound overly concerned; however, Tara noticed his eyes were wide behind the lenses of the glasses he had returned to their perch on his nose.
Buffy snorted. “Not what you’re thinking, Giles,” she answered. “I know Faith and I haven’t impressed you with our planning skills up to now; give us some credit, though. Staying alive trumps making jokes. We put our movie-watching weekends to good use and set up some traps. Riley and Friends better not try to steal any Christmas gifts.”
“Chr-Christmas gifts?” Turning in her chair, Tara watched Buffy smile. She was happy. Almost giddy. Why was Buffy giddy? What kind of traps and she and Faith thought up?
To make the situation more frightening, Faith began laughing.
“OK, not that I don’t like hearing you laugh, Faith…” Willow rolled her chair next to Faith and wrapped one arm around her waist. “I am big on the freak when you and Buffy are sharing the fun. Fistfights, I can handle. A pair of giggling Slayers? Not so much. What, exactly, did you do?”
“I’m totally offended you would be happier if Faith and I were pounding on each other.” Tara thought Buffy’s pout was cute. “Fine!” Throwing her hands in the air, Buffy continued. “All we did was set up a few traps, Will. You know… Concrete buckets perched over doors. A tape recorder in a freezer. Nothing deadly, I swear.”
The relief from the rest of the group was palpable. “Forgive me, Buffy. I shared Willow’s unease; I should have trusted your judgment.” Giles cleared his throat – and changed the subject. “It appears as if you did pay attention to some of my past lectures on strategy and environmental weaponry. I am curious how you believe Tara’s glamours would work with one of the traps you set”
Ah. That was the reason for Faith’s earlier smile. Tara had missed that connection. Leaning back in her chair, she waited for Buffy to answer.
“Yeah. There’s this big hole in the floor over by the main office. We used some drop cloths the construction guys left to hide it. You can still see it, though. If Tara can make the cloth look like tile…” Tilting her head at Tara, Burry raised an eyebrow. “Faith and I dragged a few of the wrestling mats underneath the hole. No one’s going to get hurt by the fall.”
Face warming at Buffy’s reassurance, Tara hesitantly nodded her assent. “I th-think I can do that, Buffy.” She gestured to the pile of supplies they’d gathered. “W-we have enough for two or th-three spells.”
“Thanks, Tara. You, too, Will.” Buffy yawned. “God, we need to get that camera then some sleep. Faith, stay behind with the girls…” She broke off, blushing, when Faith snorted and coughed to hide what Tara suspected was a laugh. “I mean, stay with the gang while I grab the camera. Mom, Giles, you get first sleep shift. I want two of us watching the video all the time in case Ethan shows up.”
Her hand brushed Tara’s under the table, fingers momentarily closing in a warm caress. Tara unconsciously squeezed back. When Buffy stood and strode from the door, her hand felt cold. Abandoned. Glancing up, she saw Faith watching her closely. “Wh-what?” Tara stuttered.
“Nothin’.” Buffy had been right. Faith lied very badly. It was clear she was holding something back. “Just wonderin’ why I ain’t going after the camera instead of B.”
“That’s easy, honey.” Joyce smiled and pointed at the way Willow was resting against Faith, eyes blinking sleepily. “Buffy knows Willow went through her magic supplies with Tara after all that computer work earlier. They’ve been friends a long time. Why would Buffy risk tangling with a tired, grumpy witch?”
Instead of denying the point, Willow snuggled closer to Faith. “Not grumpy,” she mumbled through a yawn. “Only tired. It’s been at least a month since the last time we saved the world, and I’m out of practice.”
A sharp movement across the room prefaced Giles’ exclamation. “Bloody hell!”
“Rupert?” Joyce was the first to respond, even as Willow and Faith straightened. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Movement in one of the bloody cameras.” Giles hurried to the desk and leaned close to Willow’s laptop. “I cannot see them now; however, I am sure I saw two, perhaps three people outside the administration office.”
And Buffy was in the school alone. Tara bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. They had to find her. Warn her.
Unfortunately, Tara wasn’t in charge of the team. “Time to get things rollin’ then,” Faith said, sounding almost relieved. “Red, you stay here and wait for B and the camera. Me and Tara’ll do the spells.” She kissed Willow quickly and sprang out of her chair. “Come on, Blondie. Don’t got time for napping.”
Tara wasn’t napping; she was wide awake and living in a nightmare. “Wh-what ab-bout Buffy?”
“B’s fine.” Faith didn’t share Tara’s concern. She rocked impatiently near the door. “Let’s go. I wanna get Ethan’s goons outta the way.”
Common sense said Faith was right. Still, Tara hesitated. She needed to know Buffy was safe.
“Go on,” Willow said softly. She smiled and shrugged when Tara glanced at her in surprise. “You have to go. You’re a Scooby now. The rest…” Her eyes flickered to Faith before coming to rest on Tara again. “Everyone has a job, Tara. We trust each other to do our parts.”
In other words, Buffy’s job was to get the camera – and Tara’s was to set the wards and cast the glamours. She had to trust Buffy to come back alive. Standing and walking toward Faith, she prayed more fervently than ever before.
“First things first, T. That hole needs to look like a floor.” Faith took off running the second they left the construction office, and Tara struggled to keep her in sight. Catching up was out of the question. “Hurry up. If Giles was right, the guys are gonna be there soon.”
Tara somehow found a little more speed. As she ran, she reached into Willow’s backpack and grabbed one of the small bottles nestled inside. “I n-need to be right next to wh-whatever you put over the hole,” Tara gasped out.
Faith nodded. “First stop’s right around the corner.” Her speed slackened and she hugged the wall, gesturing for Tara to join her. “When we get closer, I’m gonna check the coast is clear. Stay put until I tell ya’ to move.” Glaring at Tara as if waiting for a complaint, Faith slowed further. “I don’t hear nothin’. Anything on the witchy radar?”
Since leaving campus, Tara had kept her shields up. She didn’t want to lower them now. She did, though. They had to know if Ethan was nearby. Pulling her internal walls down by inches, she peeked hesitantly over the top.
The narrow view showed nothing. Only the electrical tingles of normal, ambient energy brushed across her senses.
Growing bolder, Tara probed farther. The tingles grew to a teeth-chattering buzz. “He’s h-here,” she whispered, shields slamming closed. “N-not ar-round the c-corner; in the sc-chool, though.” The knowledge rattled her confidence in their plan. Her palms grew slick with sweat where they gripped the nylon strap of Willow’s backpack.
“Good.” Faith slipped a dagger out of her belt. “I’ll be right back.” In a heartbeat, she disappeared into the gloom ahead.
Tara hated waiting. She really hated waiting alone, in the dark, while Ethan Rayne was hunting. The darkness closed in, still and stifling. Tara bit her lip and squinted. Was that movement ahead? “Faith?” she called softly, creeping a few steps closer to the end of the hallway. “Faith?”
No one answered her.
Now Tara realized why Willow was so bad at following orders. Staying behind sucked. She had to force herself to stop moving. She reached back into the backpack and pulled out the bottle for the spell. To keep her mind occupied on something other than shadows, Tara mentally practiced the incantation she’d need for the glamour.
“T, we gotta go. Now!” Faith appeared out of nowhere, nearly scaring a shriek
from Tara. “Three of them soldiers is coming down the
hall.”
“I’m ready,” Tara vowed, even though she wanted to run back to the construction office.
Faith gripped her arm and pulled her around the corner. Dim light flickered over the floor and walls farther down the connecting corridor, and Tara heard soft, erratic footfalls. That must be the soldiers.
“This is as close as I can get ya’,” Faith almost breathed in Tara’s ear. “Can’t risk gettin’ too close and fallin’ in…”
The comment wasn’t funny. Still, Tara fought a completely inappropriate giggle. She sucked in a deep breath and unstoppered the perfume bottle. “I can do this.” She could. And there was no more time to waste before proving it. Closing her eyes, Tara blocked out the faint sound of Faith’s breathing and slowed the pounding of her own heart with a skill born of long practice – and desperate need. Calm replaced her lingering dread and fear.
“I hail to the West and the forces of water,” she began, pouring the first drop of potion onto the floor. “Hear and aid me in this magic tonight.”
Another drop landed as Tara began the second cantrip. The words, however, were not the most important part of the spell. They were only an invocation, a plea for help in building an image. It was the image that left Tara shaking with effort.
Tan tiles fanned out in an interlocking pattern. Tara couldn’t see the tarp covering the hole so she let the image overlay the entire area.
“They’re comin’, T. Finish up!” Faith had moved; she was no longer standing at Tara’s shoulder. Her voice floated out of the darkness.
“By the powers of the West and the forces of water, I charge this place to remain, as I See.” Sweat trickled down the side of Tara’s face as she opened the door to her energy reservoir, borrowing more heavily for the last part of the spell. The tiles wavered for a second then firmed. “So mote it be.” The flash of light blinded Tara; though it wouldn’t be visible to Faith or the soldiers. Blinking dazedly, she turned and said, “It’s finished.”
“’Bout fuckin’ time.” Faith shoved Tara back down the hallway. “Any longer and we’da been there when the Goon Squad got there.”
Tara didn’t bother to point out that they would have been safe because of the hole separating them from the soldiers. Instead, she stayed silent and ran, chasing Faith down another dark and littered hallway.
Faith didn’t leave Tara behind as they ran this time. Instead, she gripped Tara’s arm and dragged her down the hallway. It was almost like flying. Tara was sure her feet barely touched the ground as they passed numerous dark classrooms and ascended a set of stairs.
“Me and B got a recording of her voice in one of the freezers in the kitchen.” Tara heard the evil smile in Faith’s voice. “Can you do somethin’ like you did with the tiles? I ain’t sure even Riley’s dumb enough to go runnin’ in just ‘cause he hears B.” Faith never slowed as they continued along yet another hallway.
Sucking in air, Tara managed to gasp. “I c-can do one m-more glamour.” They’d only managed to find enough ingredients for two. “And t-two wards, like in the lab.” If Tara’s strength held. Her personal magical stores were low; she’d used those trying to protect herself and Buffy with the mirror spell, and replenishing from nearby ley lines was difficult while running. If only Scooby life wasn’t so new – and so out of control – she might have thought to do it while they’d been in the construction office doing nothing more strenuous than reading Professor Walsh’s files.
“Didn’t Red have more in that bag? She’s normally got it crammed full of shit,” Faith said as she helped Tara over a fallen row of lockers.
Shit was right, but Tara was too polite to say it out loud.
Luckily, Faith didn’t seem to expect a response. “It’ll have to…” Stopping abruptly, she tilted her head to the right.
Tara froze in place, caught by Faith’s intense concentration. Something wasn’t right.
Something, in fact, was very, very wrong. As Faith resumed moving, rotating her body in a slow circle, Tara felt a light brush on her shields. Oh, Goddess. Ethan. Tara huddled deeper behind those protective barriers, afraid to breathe.
Seconds later, a second touch probed at her mind.
***
Buffy wasn’t planning to waste time. Instead of sticking to the sidewalks, she left the Science Wing and cut diagonally across the quad. God, she was tired. The rest of the crew had to be close to collapsing. Willow had certainly looked ready to pass out in the office, and Tara…
Tara.
Without conscious thought, Buffy slowed down. Why was Tara still here? She had every reason to leave; to tell Buffy that she was through. Or worse, to pretend to be part of the Scooby gang and then put a magical neon sign over Buffy’s head for Ethan to find.
Slowing further, Buffy realized she was still doing it. Still treating Tara the way she had at Hemery. Tara was a good person. Turning Buffy and her friends over to the monster Walsh had created wasn’t something she’d ever do. Instead, Tara would hang around, risking almost certain death, to help stop Walsh’s evil plan.
To help Buffy.
Buffy smiled. Tara had stayed to help her. No one had ever done that before. Well, Willow was still in Sunnydale, but her decision had more to do with Faith than Buffy – no matter what she said. Giles and Joyce didn’t count. They had to stay. Giles because it was his job, and Joyce because she was Buffy’s mother.
Tara was here because she wanted to stay. She wanted to help Buffy.
It was suddenly even more important that they beat Ethan and Walsh. Buffy began running again, tapping into Slayer speed so she was a blur across campus. No matter what, she’d keep Tara…the gang safe. Buffy was so focused on speed she didn’t see the group of soldiers until she was right on top of them.
Narrow, bug-like goggles swung her way, along with the tips of several very large machine guns. “It’s her!” one of them uttered. At least, Buffy thought he talked. It was hard to see his lips move through the mask he wore under the goggles.
Recovering quickly, Buffy waved and smiled. “Hi! You look lost. Can I give you a tour?” Then, before the guns could do more than hover in front of her face, she grabbed the tip of one and squeezed. It flattened immediately, and Buffy moved on. She repeated the mashing on a second then yanked another away from its owner and bent the metal in half. The newly reformed weapon made an effective, if short, staff. Buffy swung it with both hands, sweeping the final two machine guns out of the hands of their users.
As they watched in goggle-eyed amazement, Buffy posed with hands on hips. “You don’t want a tour? But it’s such a nice school. There are only a few holes in the floor…” It was fun to tease; however, Buffy needed to be somewhere else. Now that the soldiers were unarmed and no longer a threat, she waded in – with fists, not her metal staff.
“Enjoy the nap, boys. Wish I could take one, too,” she told the pile of unconscious bodies left in her wake. The stakes were even higher now. Buffy used her enhanced speed and senses consciously this time as she resumed her journey toward the Administration Wing. Where there was one group of baddies, there was probably more. She didn’t want to be surprised again.
Nothing showed up on her senses, though. Whatever forces Walsh’s crew had mustered didn’t include the supernatural. She couldn’t even feel Ethan, and he had to be nearby. God, she hated running into danger blind. After all the years of demon fighting, surely Buffy had earned a few perks.
The crackle of another unseen radio said otherwise. Buffy slowed as she rounded the side of the main building. Faint footfalls sounded ahead.
“Damn.” Just short of stomping in frustration, Buffy slipped behind a stand of scraggly bushes. She’d have to do this another way. She engaged Slayer Stealth Mode and crept toward the noises. As expected, a new group of soldiers stood in a single-file row next to the double doors leading into the building. They were linked by one hand pressed to the shoulder of the man in front. “Too bad I don’t have a bowling ball.” They’d go down in a clump.
Since that wasn’t an option, and the strung out posture would make it hard to repeat the gun-crushing technique, Buffy had to let them go. She’d have to trust the booby traps she and Faith had set. It was hard, though, to creep cravenly away. Buffy didn’t have to be too much like Faith to enjoy a good brawl. Staying alive had never seemed so…well, so cowardly.
Buffy detoured, retracing her steps and running for the opposite side of the building. Her original plan had been to grab the camera next to the main building. Thanks to Walsh’s goons, that was out. She should have known having a plan was a bad idea.
The next closest camera was in the locker room. Great, now Buffy needed to be thankful Snyder had been a pervert.
Taking more care than before, Buffy maintained her speed but kept to the shadows and the sides of the buildings. She paused frequently to listen and look. There weren’t any new groups of soldiers; at least, none she could see. Buffy didn’t believe for a minute that the two groups were the only ones, though. Walsh had had an entire underground hideout.
She was sweating and every nerve ending was on edge by the time the towering two-story gym and its row of clerestory windows loomed ahead. The slight sounds of insects in the bushes and the occasional rustle of leaves made Buffy jump and reach for her stakes. Setting her jaw, she determinedly completed her journey. The only way into the locker room without going through the main school was through a window (and not even Slayer skills would help with a jump that high) or through a maintenance entrance. At least the locked door was easy to open.
With a single twist of her wrist, Buffy broke the lock. The gym was lit better than the kitchen or hallways. Moon and starlight filtered through the windows and Buffy crept across the wood floor, wincing as her tennis shoes squeaked. Without the bulk of the bleachers and the basketball goals marking the ends, the large space seemed endless. Only the need for stealth kept Buffy’s pace slow and cautious. She wanted to run. She needed to run. Her breathing sounded like hurricane-force gusts of wind. Finally, after an eternity and a million steps, Buffy reached the girls’ locker room.
The girls’. Not the boys’. Snyder’s creep factor continued far after his death.
Scents of the past assailed Buffy as she pushed open the door and went inside. Chlorine. Bleach. Sweat. Not even a bomb and massive reconstruction efforts could get those out of the concrete floors and metal lockers. Wrinkling her nose against the stench, Buffy paused to let her eyes adjust to the deeper gloom.
Little by little, Buffy began to see details of the room. Lockers and sturdy changing benches ran in neat rows throughout the room. Cheap venetian blinds hung haphazardly from the windows of the tiny coaching office. And, cleverly camouflaged by a dilapidated Razorback statuette sitting on a wall shelf near the ceiling, was the camera. Buffy hopped onto a bench and clambered onto the nearby lockers.
Crunching metal and the thud of her footsteps might have woken the dead. If the soldiers were in the building, they’d have to be deaf not to know where Buffy was now. Buffy gave up on stealth. She gripped the camera at the base and wrenched it from the mooring plate. Trophy in hand, she jumped to the floor and took off using every last bit of her enhanced speed.
The gym, the quad… They whipped by as Buffy made her way back to the construction office. She never slowed or paused; she did take enough care to avoid the areas where she’d left the soldiers. “Will,” she gasped out, sliding to a halt in the construction office. “Do your thing with the camera.”
Willow stared at her in incomprehension.
“Camera. Ethan. You said it could turn him off.” Hoping for help, Buffy peered at her mother and Giles. “Come on, guys. Walsh’s goons are out there, and we’re running out of time!”
Her words stirred everyone to action. Willow snatched the camera out of Buffy’s hands, nimble fingers prying at the metal casing. Giles and Joyce hurried around blowing out candles and grabbing up weapons.
It was the perfect time for Walsh. “I don’t know why you bother. You are no match for what we’ve created. Ethan Rayne was a pathetic man who believed he was powerful. I’ve made him more powerful than he could have imagined. Than you can imagine.”
Walsh was wrong. Buffy had a very good imagination, thanks to years fighting evil. “Shut up!” Her voice was harsh; it betrayed her fear and anger. Betrayed her to Walsh, who smirked. Buffy wanted to turn away – and didn’t. She was not going to let Walsh control her again. Deliberately keeping her eyes on Willow, Buffy said softly, “Can you do it? Use the camera to stop Ethan?” Please, she added silently.
“I got the information off the internet, Buffy. It’s unreliable at best. Maybe I can stop Ethan.” Willow didn’t meet Buffy’s eyes. She continued to strip the camera apart. “Or I’ll hook the battery I stole out of the clock on the foreman’s desk up to Snyder’s camera and we’ll get nothing more than a spark.”
Buffy’s knees felt weak. A spark? She’d grabbed the camera for a spark? She pushed back the panic, remembering her earlier conversation with Faith about Willow’s stress levels. “Well, if that’s what we get, maybe it’ll be enough to set Ethan’s hair on fire. I never did like that slicked back look, you know?” She tried to smile and then stopped. It felt too wrong to be reassuring to anyone. “Besides, we have more to worry about than one of Walsh’s toys. I took out one group of soldiers on the way to the gym. And…” Did Buffy really have to admit she’d run away from the other group?
“Indeed.” Giles cut in before Buffy made her embarrassing admission. “Just after your departure, I glimpsed a group on the monitors. Faith and Tara have gone to set the wards. I believe we shall have to be ready for Ethan to arrive soon.”
If Buffy had felt bad about her actions outside, she felt even worse now. Not to mention suddenly very scared. Tara was out there with all of Walsh’s troops hunting for them. “I’ll go make sure Tara’s safe,” she said.
“No, you won’t,” Willow answered. “My girlfriend isn’t going to let anything happen to them.” Even focused on her role as MacGyver, she got Buffy’s attention. “Faith is a Slayer, just like you. Stop acting like you’re the only one.”
Willow’s comment was harsh – yet not undeserved. “Right. Sorry.” Not quite sure what to do, Buffy rocked on her heels and examined the room. If Giles was right, they’d have to be ready to fight off Walsh’s army. What did they have?
The duffel of weapons rested on the couch along the far wall. Buffy and Faith had removed most of the smaller items like daggers and stakes. That left the crossbow and a couple swords. “Mom.” Ignoring her own internal reluctance, Buffy waved Joyce toward the duffel. “I think it’s time for a little Killing 101.”
“Wonderful, honey. I was thinking just last week I could use a new skill in case the gallery folds.” Joyce smiled brightly, the false cheer a sure indicator of her unease.
“I don’t think you can add this to your resume,” Buffy warned. She trotted across the room and dug out the crossbow and bolts. “Remember when you played cops and robbers with me when I was little?”
Joyce’s eyebrows rose.
Buffy saw the sign and snapped a hand up. “Don’t go there. Just don’t.” Glowering until those eyebrows (and the guarantee of teasing) lowered, she continued. “Using a crossbow is like shooting that Super Soaker water gun. Pull back the string.” The well-oiled machinery took only a light tug to nestle the bowstring into place as she demonstrated. “Point at the target.” Buffy raised the bow and peered along the sight. “Pull the trigger.”
A click prefaced the sound of a bolt whipping through the air. Less than a second later, a bolt pierced the wall behind Walsh’s head.
“You try.” Buffy pressed the weapon into her mother’s hands.
Joyce wasn’t as adept. She struggled to knock the bowstring. Finally, as Buffy reluctantly moved to help, Joyce managed the maneuver. “Got it. That wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be,” she said, in defiance of her troubles. She repeated Buffy’s move, raising the weapon and aiming at the wall.
“Good shot, Joyce.” Giles was the first to congratulate Joyce’s shot as the bolt took a spot barely a hands span from Buffy’s. “I daresay we know where Buffy comes by her extraordinary talent.”
For a moment, Buffy wanted to throw up. Could Giles be more obvious? It was sickening. She clamped down on the urge, though. “Looks like you’re good to go, Mom. When the fighting starts, hang out in the back and pick off anything not a Scooby.” She very carefully avoided the issue of their targets’ humanity. Joyce could probably hit where she aimed; a kill shot, however, would hopefully take more skill than Joyce possessed.
“What shall I do?” Giles gestured at the weapons bag. “Did you bring more than one bow, perhaps?”
“Nope. We’re all out of firepower. You’ve got your choice of…” Buffy rummaged through the bag. “Swords.” The two she’d dragged from Faith’s apartment leaned against the foreman’s desk where she’d left them earlier. “Sais or a few stakes and daggers. When I packed, I wasn’t really planning for a siege.” At that, Buffy wanted to throw the bag across the room. She’d known the situation was likely to get ugly and she hadn’t thought about arming the rest of the crew. If they made it out of this alive, she silently swore to pay more attention to Giles’ lectures on strategy.
“I daresay I am better off not getting close enough for real hand to hand,” Giles stated. He stood and picked up one of the swords, examining the edge as if visually verifying its sharpness.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “If that’s what you’re planning to use, you’re better off hiding behind a desk. These guys have guns. Wanna bet they’ll shoot you before you even manage to life the sword point off the ground?” She tossed a dagger and a pair of sais in Giles’ direction. “Use these. At least you can throw them. You were pretty good at that when you and Wes had that contest last year.”
Giles’ blush was a riot. “Thank you, my dear. I didn’t think you’d noticed.” He slipped the blade under his belt and set the sais on the desk in front of him. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”
All of Buffy’s humor drained away. “The same thing I try to do: stay alive.” It was the best advice she could offer. Unless Willow’s jury-rigged Ethan jammer worked, they were out of options.
Or were they?
Right now, the soldiers and Ethan held all the cards, with the exception of the few traps she and Faith had set. The Scooby gang was splintered, Buffy’s tiny crew trapped inside the construction office. Faith and Tara were alone inside the school. Alone. Willow’s earlier reminder of Faith’s Slayer status didn’t alleviate Buffy’s fear. She was the better fighter; she had far more experience than Faith. She should be there, keeping Tara safe. Not sitting in this office, waiting for Riley and his friends to show up.
Waiting sucked. Buffy wanted…needed to be actively doing something, but there wasn’t anything but more waiting. Or was there? Maybe there was one thing Buffy could use to even the odds.
Without bothering to explain her actions, she strode across the room and grabbed the back of Walsh’s chair. “Time for you to do something useful, Doc,” Buffy announced. Tilting the chair, she began dragging it across the room. “When your bullet-happy goons show up, they’ll be aiming – and firing – at you first.”
***
Hiding behind her barriers wasn’t doing any good. Tara felt Ethan probing deeper and deeper into her mind. “Faith!” she whispered urgently. “We have to get out of here now!” She didn’t know what Ethan would do once he breached her shields, but she was sure it wouldn’t be good.
“Not until we make sure that last trap works, T.” Faith’s expression was resolute. “Come on. There’s another way to the kitchen.” Gripping Tara’s arm again, she ran back the way they’d come before veering off into a new hallway. “Found this one day when I was avoidin’ Snyder,” she explained in a low voice as Tara struggled to keep up. “One of the closet’s is got a trash chute that drops ya’ off in the kitchen dumpster.”
A dumpster? Was Faith kidding? “Faith…” Tara started to ask and then broke off. It might be a dirty, bumpy ride; it was still better than facing Ethan and whoever he’d brought with him. “OK,” she agreed. She even managed a little more speed despite her labored breathing and the stitch in her side.
The run seemed to take forever – like every other run since she’d become a Scooby. Tara repeated her vow to get into shape as they reached their destination and Faith wrenched open a seemingly normal janitor’s closet. Inside, though, was the promised chute. “You first.
“But,” Tara said immediately. The grim expression on Faith’s faced stopped the protest before it could get farther. There was no place to climb up. Was she supposed to go head first? Slayer senses weren’t required to hear the sound of pursuit. “Bend your leg.” Not even a hint of stutter marred the terse command. Placing her left foot on Faith’s obligingly offered knee, Tara stepped up. Her right foot slid down the metal chute until she was partially sitting, and Tara was very happy for the darkness. It hid the grime. “Wish me luck,” she mumbled before swinging her left leg around.
It took only a second before gravity took over. Tara’s stomach dropped along with her body. She picked up speed and prayed. Until that very moment, she hadn’t thought of the possibility that the dumpster could be missing since the school was closed.
The Goddess must have been waiting to hear from Tara. With a sickening drop, Tara ended her wild ride with a soft thump. She scrambled to the left to clear a path for Faith just in time. A soft curse announced Faith’s arrival.
“Last time we fucking do that.” Faith’s hand gripped Tara’s arm in the darkness. “Come on. We got to hurry. I heard one of them soldiers talkin’ upstairs. They musta spotted something and are headin’ for the office. “
Tara didn’t resist as Faith helped her over the edge of the dumpster. “I c-can’t do the glamour,” she warned urgently. “Eth-than’s here.”
“No problem, T. We ain’t got time anyway.” Faith was pressed against Tara now, steering her through the kitchen. “Gotta help the gang.” Her voice was tight; it was the first indication that things weren’t going well. “In fact, I’m done playin’ nice.”
What did Faith have in mind? Tara wondered worriedly. Letting a group of the soldiers fall into the traps upstairs or locking them in a freezer wasn’t particularly kind, in her mind. “F-Faith?” she asked hesitantly. Whatever Faith was planning, Tara knew she could do nothing more than try to talk her out of it.
The hand on Tara’s arm urged her forward with more speed. “Good thing you got me,” Faith mumbled. “The princess is good in a fight, but she ain’t got my skills.” The explanation didn’t make Tara feel less confused as they approached the loading dock and the two cars parked there. “Hop in.”
Tara didn’t move. “What?”
“Get in the damned Jeep!” Even though Faith was little more than a black figure against the dark, Tara could easily imagine her scowl. “There’re too many guys with guns. We can’t risk runnin’ into one of ‘em.”
“Sorry.” Feeling her face burn with a mercifully hidden blush, Tara held both hands in front of her in a search for Joyce’s SUV. It took a few minutes before she located it. As she moved carefully around to the far side, she heard Faith open the driver’s door.
The engine roared to life as Tara finally touched the door handle. An instant later she blinked against the blaze of the headlights. In the illumination, she glimpsed Faith jump out and run to the dock door and yank it open. She climbed in, heart pounding, waiting only a second for Faith to rejoin her.
Faith put the Jeep into gear. “Hang on,” she said. It was a timely warning. Tara had just enough time to brace her feet against the floorboard when the vehicle lurched backward. They hit the ramp without slowing. Exhibiting amazing ability at the wheel, Faith spun the Jeep around. The tires squealed in protest and the vehicle slewed from side to side before stabilizing. They accelerated smoothly through the empty parking lot – and then jumped the curb and the sidewalk.
“I bet you c-colored outside the l-lines when you were little,” Tara said. She wished she’d had the foresight to put on her seatbelt. Faith ignored anything in their path. They’d already driven through a row of hedges. Bits of greenery clung to the windshield and stuck under the wipers.
Chuckling, Faith took one hand off the wheel and pointed at Tara. “Don’t tell Red. She gets all freaky ‘bout things like that.”
Tara was going to get freaky if that hand didn’t go back on the wheel soon. She watched it closely, relaxing only when Faith returned all of her attention (and limbs) to the task of driving. Her focus meant she didn’t notice the line of camouflaged men in front of them. Didn’t have time to worry about the guns pointing in their direction.
A soft pop distracted her. It was followed closely by a louder explosion and glass rained onto the dashboard and seats. Tara screamed, shrinking away from the sudden hole in the seat next to her.
Faith, on the other hand, remained stonily silent. The Jeep’s engine roared and they barreled toward the soldiers. The line held. And held. Tara reached for Faith. They had to stop. She wasn’t going to let Faith run the men down, even if they had shot at them.
At the last second, two of the men broke formation and dove out of the way. The Jeep sailed past the rest and kept going. Now that Faith had the SUV at full steam, she appeared determined to get them to the construction office without any more disruptions. Unfortunately, the soldiers hadn’t really been deterred by Faith’s tactics.
Gunfire chattered behind them and the Jeep jerked to one side. “Son of a bitch!” Faith wrestled with the steering wheel as the Jeep shuddered and slowed. “When I tell you, get out and run.”
Staring across the seat, Tara tried to understand. Run? With all those guns out there?
Turning her head, Faith stared back for a heartbeat. “We’ll use the Jeep for cover. I’ll be right behind ya’.” She turned the wheel hard to the left and then stepped on the brake. Grass and flowers flew up, illuminated by the headlights. “Go! Now!”