Look around desperately. The commando fires. I roll, dodging. Keep
on rolling, away from the door -- and towards another wall. A bullet
lands inches from my head. Half-roll, half-run-while-ducking into a
group of the guards, knocking them over. A gun lands in my hands.
Fire into the air. Bad idea. Whatever this thing has for a bullet, it
ricochets. Not all of the stormtrooper types are wearing anything on
their heads. I dodge anything coming my way, aimed or not, break the
gun in two (getting to be a habit) and throw one of the pieces into
the melee of guards. It hits one of them where a helmet should be,
but that only seems to make his friends angrier. One of them forgets
his gun and lunges at me. I back into the wall, which turns out to
have an opening. The lift the guards came out of. Slam my hand in the
narrow gap, push the doors open a lot faster than they closed, and
slip in. Reach desperately for the "door close" button, press it and
then the button for the highest floor. The lift obeys.
Pause for breath, and now that I can think, I'm amazed that it all worked. Go past two floors with no trouble. Come to think of it, the button panel looks like something hastily adapted from a hotel...
"Intruder detected. Lethal countermeasures engaged."
... or not. Wait for the spikes to descend, but all there is is gas, coming out of a grille near the floor. What's the deal with Slayers and poison gas? I can probably take more of it than they'd expect, but... I get a mouthful of the stuff and don't hesitate. The "emergency open doors" button works as well, leaving me stuck between floors. Climb out onto the higher one and meet about six stormtroopers. Grab one, knock his gun down, use him as a shield. He takes some kind of bullet. I pray it wasn't lead. Hold him close and retreat back to the lift.
Climb up above it, on top of the chamber. There are no doors at all above the floor I just ran from... but the walls where they should be look pretty thin. Drop the poor man who's shielding me into the lift and punch through the thin boarding. Pull desperately at the hole, ripping open a large enough gap for me to climb through... and I'm free. Knuckles are bleeding, there's at least six taser darts poking out of various areas, but no guards here, yet. The first thing I see is a small window. With sunlight streaming through. It must be past noon.
Dash to look out, and it's on the ground floor. Open it and land smoothly... I can even shut it from outside. Honestly, you'd think this town had never joined the nineties. It's easier to get out of than my room at home. Walk calmly but quickly back to Stevenson, then realize that's the stupidest thing I can do if they're based on campus. Lose all concept of calmness as I run to Giles's. Luckily it's close to the college -- it has to be for us to meet there. But I've had too much luck today.
Thundering on the door.
"Buffy! Where have you been? Willow said you didn't..."
"Giles [pant] those commando guys [pant] saw me dust [pant] a couple of vampires, and [pant] captured me."
"And you... how did you... escape? Never mind, that's not important, the question is what do we do now?"
"Willow."
"Willow?"
"She's in danger... they're based on campus, they'll know where I live, where she lives..."
"Oh... my... I'll call the university. Try and warn her..."
The phone rang and rang and eventually rang out.
"Damn. Hey Steve, you going through McEwan?"
"Yeah, got a parcel for one of Walsh's many and varied TAs, why?"
"Phone message. Tell 'em it's urgent. Here's the details."
The professor marched back into the hall.
"Willow Rosenberg, please go to the front office. You have an urgent phone call."
Willow, looking even more worried than she did when she came into the lecture, walked quickly out the door.
She enters the front office.
"Excuse me... I'm Willow Rosenberg... there was a phone call for me?"
"Ah... yes... through here."
Goes through a door into a smaller office. Some anonymous adult is sitting there, scowling. He calms visibly seeing Willow.
"Miss Rosenberg?"
Phone rings back on the secretary's desk.
"It's about your roommate, Buffy Summers?"
"What about her?"
"We have reason to believe that she has bee--"
The door opens.
"I'm sorry about this, Dr Markerton... there's another urgent call for Miss Rosenberg. In my office... Willow?"
She gets up, looking grateful. Through the door quickly and grabs the handset in something like desperation.
"Hello?"
"Willow? It's Giles. Buffy was captured by the, ah... commandos--"
"No way! Is she all right?"
"Fine, as far as I can tell, she's just a little tired, but she's worried that you could be in danger."
"Well, actually, someone just asked me about her..."
"Oh. Oh... Willow, we have to get you out of there... Where are your parents?"
"San Diego, for some kind of conference, but I..."
"Right. Ah... Willow... say... Your mother has been in a car accident there, and is currently in... ah... St Edward's Hospital with quite serious injuries. Go to your room, pack for a couple of nights away along with any magic equipment that we may need... and some clothes for Buffy... I'll call a taxi, it will take you here, go out and wait for it. Have you got all that?"
"Yes... yes... oh... thank you. Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
She hangs up, looking downright terrified.
"Dr... Markerton?"
He looks less than pleased.
"I have to go. My mother... she's been in a car accident."
An anonymous office, notable only for its location in the supposedly non-existent sub-basements of Lowell House. Two people are having... let's be diplomatic here... a full and frank exchange of views, or at least as full and frank as is possible with a superior officer.
"So you're telling me that first Buffy Summers escapes, and then just when we're about to question her roommate, that roommate gets a sudden phone call to say her mother's in hospital out of town? Why does that strike me as untrue?"
"The same reason it strikes me, I'd assume, Walsh. But there wasn't much I could do. Stand in the way of a grieving child? Not a subtle move."
"Never mind. We'll get this girl. Quite frankly, from the agents' reports, I'm not sure if she's too much of a threat to us."
"Are these the same reports that said she looks human but can break a taser gun in half bare-handed?"
"Yes, and the same reports in which she didn't attack unless attacked first or confined, and the same ones where she was heard saying she, quote, doesn't kill humans, which seems to have proved true."
"Did you see what she did to Agent Richards? If those had been real bullets..."
"All I've said is that she's not as much of a threat as, say, Hostile 17."
"But she doesn't -- can't -- have your implant. We should still put out a search for her."
"Of course. Using whatever means necessary."
Markerton grimaced, to hide a smile. He knew what that meant.
"Nevertheless, if this Summers girl has the slightest shred of intelligence, she'll have gone into hiding. We can't risk too many daytime patrols, so we'll have every man and woman we have out searching tonight. But there's no way we can find her if she's not out there."
"I know. I'm hoping we won't need to. You see, one of our new recruits goes out with a girl who graduated with our friend Buffy. Says she and Miss Rosenberg were, and presumably are, friends with..."
A picture appeared on the computer screen.
"... one Alexander L. Harris. He still lives with his mother, but is currently in hospital with what the field agents like to call Sunnydale anaemia."
"He got drained?"
"Apparently, but not completely. A couple of our guys found him when he still had a pulse, brought him in. They've pumped him full of haemoglobin and want to release him... tomorrow morning. But I'd rather not bring his parents into this."
"Not a problem."
"I'm sure."
"This is Buffy and Willow. We're not in right now, so please leave a messa--"
Slam the phone down. Shit. Who else can I call, who else can I call... That Giles guy. Where's his number?
"Look, And. You said to me she was killing vampires with a piece of wood. You knew I liked her. Why didn't you try talking to her?"
"We did. We sent out Ewell. I've told you this before. She grabbed his tranq gun and broke it in half. And then... you said you saw her escape."
"In the same situation, wouldn't you? Besides, she was killing vampires."
"Yeah, OK, she was, but we thought--"
"Killing vampires, Agent Nicholson? This wasn't in your report. Perhaps you'd like to come into my office and tell me a little more about this?"
"Hello? My God. Right... We'll be over there as soon as possible."
"What happened, Giles?"
"Xander... I didn't get many details but... he's taken a turn for the worse. She... wants us to come and see him."
"I think we can."
"How?"
"Well... we can say Buffy's in bed... with 'flu or something... to Xander's mother, I mean. You and me go there, Giles... and you know how Spike had to hide out until sunset? He didn't notice anyone coming after him until nearly nine o'clock. I don't think they have many people out in the day. Besides, Giles, if he's sick, I have to see him."
The boy was in Room E12. Where surviving vampire victims nearly always wound up, for some reason. He'd had a lot of good interviews in that ward. One thing about partial drains was that they were easy to talk to and talked easily. The best kind.
Get in the museum-piece Citroën, belts on and drive off.
"Willow, could you tell me exactly what happened before I called you?"
"Well, I'd been really worried about Buffy... I was at a Psych lecture... Professor Walsh came in and said there was a phone call for me. She told me to go to the front office, and they put me in this... smaller office, with this guy, and he said something about Buffy. Then the secretary came in and said there was another phone call, and that was yours."
"Right... so presumably 'this guy' works for the... commandos. Do you remember his face? His name?"
"Average height, average weight, black hair, brown eyes, British accent, kinda like yours... I think. The secretary called him... Markerton."
"Good. We'll have to... find a way to ask him a few questions."
"And now, Mr Harris, you're going to tell me all you know about Buffy Summers."
Make it to the hospital, dash down identical hallways... except for the last one. Willow stops Giles, takes him round a corner.
"That's the guy. Outside the door, muttering to himself... That's Markerton."
A nurse turns into said hallway and starts chatting with another.
"Damn... I went to Oxford with the bastard. Best if he doesn't know you're with me. Go up and talk to him. I doubt he'll do whatever he's planning if there's people around to see, and right now there's you and at least two nurses."
Willow nods, with some reluctance. Goes back around the corner.
"Hello, Dr... Markerton?"
"Hello... Miss Rosenberg! Surprise to see you."
"I heard Xander had... gotten worse and I had to see him. And you?"
"What? Oh. I'm an old friend of his mother and..."
"Oh, his mother just left five minutes ago. Didn't you see her?"
"No, I can't say I did. A pity. So, how are you... may I call you Willow?"
"Of course. I'm fine, I guess, but I'm really worried about Xander. And Buffy." Tone goes harsh. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to Buffy, would you? Buffy Summers? Blonde girl, quite petite? 'Cause I have absolutely no idea."
Storms into the ward as if to dare the "doctor" to try something. He leaves, going as fast as he can back to his car without arousing suspicion. Looks at his mobile. One missed call. Dials the number from memory.
"And you. Gimme Walsh. Secure channel. Thanks."
"Hello, Markerton. Any luck in the hospital?"
"None at all. The roommate ran into me outside the ward and all but dared me to try something. She knows something, she made it obvious, but there was very little I could do with witnesses."
"Well, we may not have so much to worry about after all. Agent Nicholson's here. Apparently he was in a bit of a hurry when he wrote his report and didn't quite say all he wanted to. Nicholson? Come and tell Dr Markerton here everything you told me."
Giles walks in.
"He seems to have left. How is Xander?"
"Rarin' to go."
"What about... Your mother said..."
He points to the other bed. Yesterday, it contained a man sleeping deeply. Now it's empty.
"I'm OK. The guy who was there... was taken out about two hours ago. If Buffy needs to visit the morgue, she can say hi from me."
"Oh. Right."
"What do you think, Giles? Some kind of demon?"
"Yes, and quite an ancient one. It doesn't require a Hellmouth or ritual to survive, it can appear anywhere and frequently does, has been responsible for many of the great tragedies of history..."
"Whoa... not one I'd bring home to mother then. What's it called?"
"I suspect you'd bring it anyway. It's human error."
"Giles, nothing personal, but shut up. I am the only person in this room qualified to make a joke that bad. Anyway, where's Buffy?"
"Look, Walsh. She may well have been killing vampires, she may well be on our side, she could have put a stake through the heart of Hostile 17 for all we know. On the other hand, for all we know, she could be bringing on Armageddon. We still need to at the very least question this girl, if not capture her."
"I'm not denying that. But like you said, she'll be hiding. Assuming she can feed and live like a normal human, and sticks to crowded areas, we probably won't ever capture her. The best chance we have is to try and find her and see what we can get out of her voluntarily. Trouble is, Rosenberg was our last lead. I talked to our recruit's girlfriend again and she gave me a few more names. They used to hang out in the library a lot, apparently. One, Cordelia Chase, has been in LA since last summer and doesn't know a thing. One I believe is Daniel Osbourne, who was Willow's boyfriend until he vanished off the face of the earth about a month ago. The last's known only as Anya. There's nearly fifty Anyas, Andreas, Annas, and Angelas in Sunnydale and not one of them fits the description. Any bright ideas?"
"What about the librarian?"
"Are you kidding? These are teenagers, Dr Markerton."
"Teenagers who apparently kill demons for something to do when the TV's on the blink?"
"I get your point. I'll look him up."
Very few people manage to remain calm with five armed policemen at their door. So everyone was surprised when the man who answered payed no mind to the officers and instead looked suspiciously at the man in the suit with them.
"Hello... Dr Markerton, is it?"
"Yes. Rupert Giles, I believe. I'd like to ask you a few questions about one Buffy Summers. Do you know her?"
"What if I don't?"
"I may have to jog your memory."
"Well, now that you mention it, there was a girl by that name, when I was librarian at the old high school. Blonde, short, quite pretty in a cheerleader sort of way. Smart girl -- didn't study nearly enough, and still got some highly impressive scores. I understand she decided to stay close to home for college, though. Couldn't tell you any more."
"Team G..."
Finally!
"... you've got everywhere from here out to Crawford, Argyle Place and St Michael's cemetery. Remember, tasers won't work on this girl, but there still could be vamps. I shouldn't need to tell you this, but find out what your target is before wasting ammo on it."
"Are you quite certain? I'm in a hurry, Mr Giles, and if you have any information on this girl we really are interested in hearing it. Where is she?"
"In her dormitory, I would assume. Far be it from me to suggest what else a young woman might be doing at this hour. Why are you asking me, anyway?"
"She... has been associated with an act of vandalism committed on the university campus earlier today."
"Really? I'm surprised it hasn't been on the news, then. And considering this town's horrifying death rate, I can't help wondering why such a great police presence has been devoted to this."
"Well, yes. The death rate. Primarily caused by an unnaturally large incidence of anaemia in Sunnydale."
"Yes, it's quite unheard of, isn't it? If you didn't know better, you'd think that the town was infested with vampires!"
Drive out of town to have a look at my work, and find that the pile of ash and molten metal has been neatly cleaned up and replaced with something even more hideous than the original sign. Damn. Don't these people appreciate a public service? Turn around, drive past, and drop what looks like a cigarette butt out the window. Lands neatly near the supports. Perfect. They're in for a surprise come morning.
"Another waste of time. If this girl has half a brain, she'll be hiding somewhere, not waiting for us to trip over her. Does she have half a brain, Riley?"
"She... well... I guess..."
"All that time with her and you don't know?"
"I thought I knew her, Forrest. I thought I knew a person who..."
"... couldn't break one of these in two with her hands?"
"Well, yes."
"But she does have half a brain."
"As far as anyone knows..."
"So she won't be anywhere we can find her. This is going to be one hell of a boring night."
"So boring we might just find some ordinary, run-of-the-mill bloodsuckers. Like the two on the other side of the park. The two which are just escaping now they've seen our guns."
The vampires in question are running off, across a road and down a narrow alley at the far end of the park.
"Split and block?"
"Of course. Forrest goes west, I'll go east, Graham takes this end. Move!"
"I know, I know... from what I've seen in the hospitals, little kids dying from it, you almost wish it was something like that. Something you could stop or catch easily. Like Miss Summers, if you'd excuse my bluntness. May we come in?"
"I'd be glad to have you. Tea?"
Dr Markerton leads the way. The policemen follow, and Giles blocks their way past the front room.
"I'd be obliged if your friends stay in here, though. Unless they have a search warrant, of course."
East means along Hartman Crescent, through a little, unnamed street and out into the back of one of the countless cemeteries in this town. East means a slightly longer run than the other two routes involved in blocking off the many vamps who do the park run.
The park had been a popular place for vamps to hunt. The park had also been a popular place for Initiative hunters to find them, and run after them down the same long, dark, narrow street. Some young agents who knew the area well managed to split up and take the vampire at the first crossroads up the road. One chased, one went west, one went east, met at the crossroads and closed in on the vampire. The cluttered alley -- covered in aging rubbish and oddly-placed dumpsters -- nullified any advantage vampire speed may normally have.
It cut down a lot on human speed, too, if you hadn't been trained. Riley had been, but even then, running this fast, he occasionally tripped. And rolled, silently, back to his feet. Or in this case, he rolled silently back upright and got picked up, and slammed against a wall with a hand over his mouth. Silently.
"Kevlar armour. Very impressive, flexible yet tough, fancy name to please the masses. The trouble with kevlar is, it stops bullets..."
A blade cut into the agent's back.
"... but not knives."