This is a Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel / CSI Las Vegas crossover. This story is set immediately after the Angel season 4 story "Orpheus", and contains spoilers for BtVS up to "Lies My Parents Told Me" and Angel up to "Orpheus".
Potential Problem
By Marcus L. Rowland
Prologue
We were somewhere on the edge of the desert when the magic took hold, and Willow turned to me and said "I think it's done now. Take a look in the mirror."
Not easy when you're driving on a poorly-marked back road, but I pulled down the visor and took a quick look in the vanity mirror. Still me, sort of, but not... light brown hair, pale freckled skin, softer nose. So cute I could puke.
"Did'ya have to make me look so... girly?"
"Pretty much. The spell messes with your actual appearance, not an illusion, so all of that is latent in your genes; some of the choices you didn't make as an embryo. It's cosmetic, doesn't change your fingerprints or anything. It'll go in a couple of days, this is just to get you well clear of LA."
We stopped for a minute and Willow took a couple of Polaroids of me, front and side views.
"Just so long as you remember I'm not your girlfriend. You've made me so pretty..."
Willow blushed, and said "Actually I think I preferred you as you were, but either way you're not really my type. Yay for Slayer strength and all, but I've been the bad girl, I don't want to date one."
"You really tried to destroy the world?"
"If Xander hadn't stopped me..."
"Okay... remind me not to make you mad. So this disguise will last just long enough to get back to Sunnydale, where the cops know my face."
"I can renew it if I have to, and we'll come up with something better, Faith, maybe a spell to make everyone remember you as having been pardoned or something. Giles is working on it. Besides, when did you last hear of the Sunnydale police being able to tell their asses from their elbows? Except when they wanted to get rid of Buffy, of course..."
"True. Okay, next question, why are we taking this route? We're so far East we're practically in Nevada."
"Synchronicity. I cast the runes before we left, this is the way we need to travel. We may end up crossing the state line, which is one reason why I wanted to change your looks. There's probably a police check there, you weren't the only prisoner to go missing when Los Angeles went dark."
"Crap. Okay, better think of something to call me then, it'd be a nuisance if you called me Faith and a cop overheard and took my prints."
"Hope... nope. Charity... I don't think so."
"Charity, right." I couldn't help grinning.
"Joyce? Doubt you'll forget that."
"Hey... That's a low one. B won't like it, I'm not sure I like it. Joyce was okay, and I hurt her. Couldn't even send a card to the funeral."
"But you won't forget it, will you? Look, Buffy needn't know, it's just to cover you until we get to Sunnydale. What about a surname?"
"Easy. With this nose and the freckles I look a little like you. Okay, I'm Joyce Rosenberg, your cousin from LA. Your atheist cousin, if someone says something Jewish."
"Both wearing crosses here... Joyce."
"Jews for Jesus, baby."
"Oy... take a right up ahead."
"That's got us heading for the state line and the freeway. Are you sure?"
"Yeah, the road is calling me."
"Now that's scary. You channelling Drusilla or something?"
"No, I just know it's the way we need to go. Keep on this road, and let me work on your driver's licence and ID. The papers are easy, it's getting you onto the computers that's the hard part."
We drove on that way for ten miles or so, then her mobile started beeping. "Hello? Oh, hi Buffy... Yeah, I'm on my way back to Sunnydale. Stop off?... Ooh, I wanted to meet them, see the labs... No problem, I'm not far from Nevada. Okay, tell them we're coming." Her face reddened again, and she said "Sorry, I should have said, I'm with a friend... No, not a girlfriend... Not a boyfriend either... Don't worry, it'll be okay. I'll tell you when I see you. 'Bye." She rung off, and said "Slight change of plans, Faith... uh Joyce. We're going to Vegas."
"...so Spike has a soul now? That'll mess up a lot of prophecies."
"Tell me about it. Why can't Buffy date normal guys?"
"Riley wasn't that bad."
"You ought to know..."
Catherine could hear the voices from the stairs. When she heard Buffy's name she paused for a second. There was something fascinating about the monster hunters from Sunnydale; Oz had said that their lives were 'Jerry Springer complicated', and from the sound of it he wasn't exaggerating. She smiled and went into the lobby. "Willow Rosenberg?"
A pretty red-headed woman in brown slacks and a cream top stood up, followed by
another woman with light brown hair, wearing dark denim jeans and jacket. "That's me. And this is my cousin Joyce, who's been working with Angel. I think Buffy said you know him."
"Willow, Joyce, I'm Catherine Willows, welcome to CSI. If you'd like to come this way, I'll get you visitor badges..." Willow picked up a canvas shoulder-bag, Joyce a heavy kit-bag, and they followed her. "Has Buffy filled you in on the situation?"
"Not much," said Joyce. Catherine noticed a Boston accent. "You've got a case that needs our sort of attention, and Buffy can't make it."
"That about sums it up," said Catherine, "It's a body, not human. We don't know
enough to tell you what it is. But whatever it is, it died violently. Multiple stab wounds, inflicted with considerable force. The perp left a dagger, there are prints on it but they don't match to anyone on our database. When I described it Buffy said that she thought she knew what it was, and that she'd get someone out to us as soon as possible, then called back about twenty minutes later and warned us to expect you."
"What did she say she thought it was?" asked Willow.
"Buffy said it might be something called a 'Bringer'. Mean anything to you?"
"Damn. Let's hope she's wrong, because if she isn't we've got to move fast. It's been a few hours already."
Grissom was examining the body when they reached the morgue. "This thing was
never human...," he began, then realised that Catherine had company.
"These are the people Buffy sent to help us," said Catherine, "Willow and Joyce
Rosenberg."
"Gil Grissom," said Grissom, "I'd shake hands but as you can see..." his gloved fingers were covered in green ichor.
"That's okay," said Willow, "I think we can take it as read."
"Works for me," said Joyce.
"What do you think?" asked Catherine.
"Bringer," said Willow, "no doubt about it. Demon minion. Which means you have a whole pack of the murderous little creeps running around somewhere, probably chasing someone."
"Murderous?" asked Grissom.
"Yeah, they work for this ancient evil um... thing... that calls itself 'The First', at the moment it has them running around the world murdering Potentials."
"What's a Potential?" asked Catherine.
"A Potential Slayer," said Joyce. She hesitated for a moment then said "Someone like me."
"How does that work?" asked Grissom.
"You know all the stuff about the Slayer being the Chosen One," said Willow, "the one girl in every generation, yadda yadda?"
"We have the general idea, I think."
"Well, whenever the Slayer gets killed another girl gets called. At any given time there are a few dozen Potentials, girls who might get the superpowers if the Slayer dies. No way to tell which one it will be until it happens. There's an organisation called the Watchers' Council that finds and trains them. That's the theory anyway, only they screwed up with Buffy and she went into it pretty much untrained. That's probably what's kept her alive so long, she learned to think outside the box. The First is trying to wipe out the whole line of Slayers, not to mention the Watchers, we've been bringing the survivors to Sunnydale to fight it."
"So you've been trained as a Slayer?" Grissom asked Joyce.
"Since I was thirteen. Martial arts mostly, some other stuff. Then I happened to visit my cuz here in Sunnyhell and found out that not only does she know the Slayer but she's a kick-ass wicca. Got a good look at how the Slayer operates, decided that the Watchers were jerks, and went my own way."
"And now you work for Angel?" asked Catherine.
"Occasionally." Catherine got the feeling that there was a lot that Joyce wasn't saying.
"Look, there isn't much time," said Willow. "if they haven't caught up with her already there's a Potential on the run out there, the way they work is that they kill the Watcher first so she's probably on her own. It looks like she's managed to take one out, but they hunt in packs. We have to save her."
"We haven't a lot to go on," said Grissom, "The body was found in a back alley off the Strip at three this morning, more than twelve hours ago. It was raining heavily at the time and it looks like most of the forensic evidence has been washed away."
"There may be a magical trail. There's a spell that can locate Potentials, probably similar to the one the Bringers use to find them."
"Will it work?" asked Catherine, "Angel once told me that tracing magic is difficult here because of the magic associated with gambling. Would that give you problems?"
"Don't know until I try," said Willow. "But Angel isn't a magician or a witch, he doesn't know all the tricks."
"You be careful, cuz." said Joyce.
"Don't worry. This is a really low-power spell, not major messing with the dark forces. I'll need some maps of Las Vegas, initially something covering the whole city, then larger scale maps to zoom in."
"I'll send for some," said Grissom, picking up the phone.
"Hey..." said Joyce, looking at the evidence bags on a nearby table. "I've seen one of these knives before."
"That's the murder weapon."
"It's a Bringer's dagger," said Willow.
"Someone tried to stab me with one of those a few days ago," said Joyce. "Human
though, not a demon. I think it was a paid hit. It was while things were screwed up in LA, with the darkness and all."
"What was that about?" asked Catherine. "I saw the news reports but they didn't make much sense."
"A big demon, really powerful, cast a spell to switch the sun off. Angel killed it and that broke the spell. Took out a whole load of vampires that were playing in the streets without any sun block on." She rubbed her neck as she spoke, and Catherine noticed some sticking plaster. Vampire bite?
"Did you learn anything from the assassin?" asked Grissom.
"No... she wouldn't talk."
"Any idea why they didn't go after you directly?"
"I was somewhere where a demon would have stuck out like a sore thumb. Guess they thought it would be too difficult to get to me."
A younger man wearing a white lab coat over a garish Hawaiian shirt came in with a box of maps. Grissom said "This is Greg Sanders, one of our technicians. Greg, Willow and Joyce Rosenberg."
Joyce eyed him appreciatively.
"Pleased to meet you both," said Greg, smiling at the visitors. "Would that be Willow as in Willow the witch? Angel said something about you."
Willow blushed and said "Err... yes, that'd be me."
"And Dawn made some fairly extravagent claims about your capabilities," said
Grissom.
"Dawn's a sweetie, but I've had to rein myself in a lot over the past few months. The magic was taking too much out of me, and getting too dangerous for the people around me. I'm trying to avoid really major mojo."
Grissom leafed through the maps and said "This is probably the best map of the entire area. The scale's pretty small though."
"It ought to give us a starting point. Okay, just give me a couple of minutes to get set up and we'll see."
Willow pulled a pestle and mortar and some bottles and candles from the bag, mixed some ground herbs, and began to chant something in Latin. Eventually she threw the powder onto the map and sharply said "Acclaro! Reveal!"
The map suddenly blazed with spots of light, hundreds of pinpoints around the edges of the city and a searing actinic glow around the main casinos. It lasted a few seconds, then faded again.
"Goddess...." said Willow. "Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way."
"Okay," said Willow. "I forgot to ask, what did Buffy tell you when you talked to her, and what have you already done?"
"More or less the same things you did," said Grissom, "but simplified. She said that they were probably trying to kill someone, almost certainly a girl, and left it at that. We've had patrols on the lookout for these things since about eight this morning. No sign of them so far, and no human bodies have been found."
"That's encouraging. What with the Bringer's body and all, it sounds like she's got clear of them for the moment, maybe gone to ground somewhere. There's so much magical energy around that they'd have a job to find her."
"Sounds like it," said Joyce. "She had time to stab this thing three times, that probably means that it was the only one to catch up with her."
"Five times," said Grissom. "Just how strong and fast is a Potential Slayer anyway? Those wounds are deep. We've seen Buffy in action, are they like her?"
"It varies," said Willow. "Joyce is.. um.. exceptionally powerful, she could whip most vampires one on one, but all of them are strong and fast, within normal human limits. Most of the Potentials in Sunnydale have helped stake at least one vampire, it's part of Buffy's training programme. Some have done more."
"That would account for it then. I was initially thinking of this as a fairly powerful male killer. If I saw a human body with wounds like this I'd be looking for someone with severe rage issues. I'd guess that at least two of the blows were post mortem."
"How can you tell?" asked Joyce with interest.
"They didn't bleed much of this green... ah... blood."
"Ichor," said Willow.
"Presumably whatever it uses for a heart was stopped by an earlier blow."
"If that creep killed her Watcher she might be on a vengeance kick," said Joyce. "Specially if she's been training for a few years and they liked each other. When my first Watcher was killed... sorry, it was a long time ago, let's just say that I tended to hurt things before I killed them."
"So where do we go from here?" asked Catherine. "Willow, you said something about doing things the hard way?"
"Oh.. well, to be honest, most of the things I do when magic fails are basic forensic science, computer searches, that sort of thing, you're probably doing them already and much better than I could. If I take a look at the place where the body was found I could maybe try some other spells, things that won't work at a distance, but I'll have to be very careful. There's too much magic out there."
"Why would that be a problem?" asked Grissom.
"Because I'm an addict," said Willow, in matter-of-fact tones. "Like an alcoholic, only with magic. I start off small, just one little spell to make things easier, then things tend to snowball. Well, in LA I had to use fairly powerful magic a couple of times, and some spells to make things easier on the way here, and I've just done another one, so I'm well on the way to another binge if I'm not careful. I do have some control these days, but usually I'm in Sunnydale where you have to be really careful with magic, and that makes me more aware of my condition. Out here, with so much power around and no Hellmouth to screw it up I could really kick mystic ass. Only I probably wouldn't know when to stop."
"What happens if you binge?" asked Catherine.
"Depends. Reality gets distorted, that sort of thing."
"What exactly do you mean, distorted?"
"I guess you have to be there. Okay, first sign that I've gone too far is that my eyes and hair turn black and I start to levitate, then if I'm in a fight I start throwing lightning bolts and using telekinesis and stuff. To do that I have to suck magical energy from my surroundings, so anyone coming too close might get hurt by it, although here I'd guess that there's so much raw power that the first effects would be quantum events on a macro scale..."
Willow noticed their blank and slightly awed expressions, then said "Sorry, I started out as a science nerd. Magic and the most extreme parts of theoretical physics have more in common than you might think. What I'm talking about is luck. Weird coincidences, slot machines playing out ten jackpots in a row, all the air in a room moving to the corners leaving a vacuum in the middle, that sort of thing. All of the background magic here comes from attempts to manipulate probability, if I start drawing on that power it's going to do weird things to cause and effect."
"Okay," said Grissom. "We wouldn't want to upset the Gaming Commission. Let's try and avoid binges."
"Don't worry," said Joyce, "I'll make sure she keeps it cool. Besides, I think I know a way to get those guys out into the open without much magic."
"How?" asked Catherine.
"Easy. They want a Potential to kill, and the one they're looking for seems to be unavailable. Let's go out on the town and give them someone else to hunt."
"Okay," said Willow, talking into apparent thin air, "Do you read me, Catherine?"
"Loud and clear," said the tiny earphone.
"Are you guys ready if we run into trouble?"
"We're thirty seconds away."
"Okay, I think we can hold out that long if we have to. Are you ready, .. Joyce?"
Joyce nodded, then remembered her own radio and said "Five by five."
"Okay, we clear on the plan?" asked Willow.
"Pretty much," said Joyce, "one look at your aura and most things will know who you are, so they won't think it's strange you have a Potential with you. I'll play it as a wimp who's scared of the big bad monsters, and we'll take it from there, see if anyone tries to take the bait. If that doesn't work we'll go back and you can turn them into frogs until someone answers your questions."
"Ugh, not frogs. Rabbits? They're cute, and okay so long as Anya isn't around."
"I'm cool with that. Might be kinda funny."
"Yes, with the hopping and the little twitching noses and... got over-enthusiastic there. We'll save transformation spells for a last resort, they need a lot of power. Sorry, Catherine, wasting time. You guys ready?"
"Yes, we're fine," Catherine said a little sharply.
"Okay, let's go." They walked to the door of a run-down looking bar and went inside. Both of them stood near the door and had a good look at the occupants, while they stared back.
Eventually Willow said "Okay ..Joyce, who's here."
"Well," said Joyce in a nervous voice, "I make it a couple of balancing demons, one l..lesser succubus, a Miquot d..demon, and something I don't recognise with the f..feathers instead of hair. Oh, and five humans. At least they l..look human."
"Anything that needs immediate slaying?"
"N..no, Willow, maybe the Miquot d..demon if it gets violent, the rest no."
The Miquot demon looked up as she mentioned Willow's name, took a good look at her, and hastily scuttled to get a hooded coat and ran out, giving her the widest possible berth.
"Non-violent, I guess," said Willow. "Very good. And how do you know the humans aren't vampires?"
"Mirror behind the bar. They h..have reflections."
"Excellent. We'll have you up to Slayer standards in no time." She walked towards the bar, Joyce followed.
By now most of the customers in the bar were staring, mostly at Willow although one or two were casting nervous glances at Joyce.
"Excuse me," said the minor succubus, an attractive brunette in a leather catsuit, with small horns and a barbed tail, "did the young lady just call you Willow? As in Sunnydale Willow? The Wicca?"
"That's right," said Willow with a smile, eying her curves appreciatively.
"Could I have your autograph?"
"I guess. Provided you give me a lock of your hair and some nail clippings, so that I can return your spell threefold when you try to enchant me."
"Errr.. never mind then."
"Nice try, dear."
"It was a pleasure meeting you."
"Likewise."
They reached the bar, and Willow said "Seen any Bringers here lately?"
"Bringers?" asked the barman warily.
"Little guys with brown robes and scars instead of eyes."
"Those scumbags. Yeah, there were five of them in here last night about two, came sniffing around the customers then suddenly ran out, didn't even buy drinks."
"See much of them?"
"They've been in a couple of times before, never seen them buy more than a couple of bottles of mineral water and they don't tip."
"Thank you. I'll have a decaff coke, please, and for you, Joyce...?"
"Um.. the same, I guess, but I need the l..ladies room first."
"Through that door, first on the left," said the barman, pointing. He turned back to Willow, hardly paying attention as Joyce went out. "So... you really a hotshot witch?"
"Wicca."
"I've always been attracted to powerful women," he said, leaning closer to give Willow an opportunity to sample his halitosis.
"I'm gay, and you're about ten seconds away from going 'ribbit'".
"Point taken." He hastily moved back, and started polishing glasses. There was an awkward silence, broken by a loud thump from the direction of the ladies room. A few moments later Joyce came out, dragging a brown-robed figure behind her. Most of the customers hastily vacated the bar.
"Looky what I've got, Willow. A Bringer."
"Dead?"
"Very. Opened the closet by mistake, it fell out. Smells like it's been there a good few hours. Stabbed, same as the first one."
"Listen lady," said the barman, "You want to stab those creeps, you go right ahead, just dump 'em with the garbage outside."
"That's not the way it works, I'm afraid," said Willow. "Catherine, you'd better get in here, we've got another customer for you."
Catherine Willows was unimpressed. In approximately thirty seconds Joyce Rosenberg had interfered with a crime scene and given most of the possible witnesses time to run. Now she had a corpse that had been moved, and evidence that was bound to be contaminated by Joyce's hair and fingerprints.
"It's unfortunate that you moved the body," said Nick, "it's going to reduce the value of the forensic evidence considerably."
"Sorry, didn't think of it," said Joyce.
"We're both sorry," said Willow, "The problem is that neither of us have had an opportunity to work properly with the police before. In Sunnydale they just don't want to know about these things, so we have to do everything for ourselves."
"Well, if you'll try to be more careful in future," said Catherine, "Joyce, we'll need your fingerprints to compare with any we find at the crime scene."
Silence.
"Is there a problem?" asked Nick.
"Could we speak privately?" asked Willow, gesturing to a table in a far corner. The CSI investigators, Willow and Joyce moved to it. "Switch off the radios please. I'm going to make sure that there are no eavesdroppers." She rummaged in her bag, and Joyce expected her to start casting a spell. Instead she pulled out a small electronic device. "We had some trouble a while back with a bunch of high-tech wanna-be supervillains who thought it'd be a good idea to bug the Slayer, had to start taking precautions."
"What's this about?" asked Catherine once the bug-jammer was switched on.
"Me," said Joyce, before Willow could speak. Her voice seemed deeper, a little coarser. "It's okay, Willow, I had a feeling this might be necessary."
"Are you sure?" asked Willow.
"Yeah. It's just gonna get too complicated if we keep this up, or if you try to fix it up with magic, and I'm not gonna start running again with those scumbags on the loose here. Okay, first thing I should do is introduce myself. My name's Faith and I'm not a Potential."
"You're not?" asked Catherine.
"Did Buffy tell you that she's died a couple of times?"
"Yes."
"What happens when a Slayer dies?"
"Another one gets..." Nick began, then tapered off with his jaw dropping.
"First time Buffy died a kid called Kendra got activated. Never met her myself, but she was about Buffy's age, fifteen or so, and pretty green."
"Poor Kendra..." said Willow. "She was unlucky, ran up against Drusilla in Sunnydale about a year later. Drusilla is really powerful, even Buffy has never been able to kill her. They lured Buffy away, and she killed Kendra in front of the rest of us. There was nothing we could do."
"Then I drew the short straw," said Faith. "I was careless, thought I could whip anything, didn't plan properly. Let my first Watcher get captured and tortured to death in New Orleans a couple of months after I was activated, and went on the run. The vamp that did it was Kakistos, he chased me to Sunnydale, then Buffy and I killed him. Trouble was it left me... think they call it post-traumatic stress, but I was still having the trauma nearly every night, going out to hunt the monsters. I kidded myself I was enjoying it, and I got careless again."
"How?" asked Catherine quietly.
"Thought I was staking a vampire, stabbed a man. Killed him. Then I tried to get rid of the body, when that didn't work I tried to put the blame on Buffy. It ended up with me working for the Mayor when he tried to destroy Sunnydale, and me in a coma for six months. When I came out of that I tried to take Buffy's place magically, and when that didn't work I ran to LA and tried to take out Angel, hurt most of the people he worked with. What I was trying to do..."
"You wanted him to kill you?" asked Catherine.
"You're good. Yes, I think that's what I wanted. Him or Buffy. He saved me instead, kinda turned me around, and I gave myself up to the police."
"So your fingerprints will be on record. I don't see that as a problem."
"When things started going down the tubes in LA I was still in the pen, which is why the Bringers had to pay someone to ice me. When I was told that Angel needed my help I busted out."
"Oh."
"As far as I know there are no Federal warrants out on me, but I'm sure as hell wanted in California. Don't know how the system works, but I kinda think it's your duty to tell them so that they can extradite me."
"Something like that," said Nick. "One question; what do you plan to do?"
"I was going to give myself up once we'd dealt with the demon in LA, but from what Willow tells me I'm really needed in Sunnydale. There's an apocalypse coming, and this one is gonna be a doozy. Buffy and the gang may not be able to handle it without me. After that I guess it's back to the pen."
Unnoticed, Willow's eyes momentarily flickered black, and a tendril of all-but-invisible energy snaked out to Catherine and Nick and as quickly vanished.
"So you're voluntarily returning to California?" asked Nick.
"Yeah, I guess."
"We won't have to worry about extradition then, will we? Why waste the taxpayers' money?"
"Nick..." Catherine began.
"Have you committed any crimes in Nevada?" asked Nick
"No," said Faith.
"Planning to?"
"Not if I can help it."
"Okay... Let's say that for now we keep your prints off the national system until you're ready to leave, then give you a head start. Say twenty-four hours."
"Sounds good to me."
"Are we agreed then? Catherine?"
"Well... okay. Provided there's nothing else."
"Willow?"
"Yeah, I guess that's okay, if you can make sure that nobody else enters them into the computer until you're ready."
"That's okay, at least for this crime scene. We'll tackle any others as they come up. Faith?"
"Five by five. Better get back to calling me Joyce though, or we'll have to go through this again with your boss and the rest of your crew."
"Okay.. Joyce. Just one question - if the girl before you was activated when Buffy died the first time, what happened the second time?"
"Don't really know," said Joyce, settling back into her role.
"I do," said Willow. "Giles did some research, as much as he could without telling the Watchers that she was dead. They think that the line of Slayers runs through you now. When Buffy was killed she wasn't replaced."
"Oh... you mean that I'm the Chosen One now and she isn't? All those Potentials are waiting for me to die?"
"You could put it that way, I suppose."
"Oh boy, I'll bet Buffy was really pissed."
"I don't think she's thought about it or knows. If I told her I think she'd be relieved that it wasn't her responsibility any more."
"Okay... have to think about that one, get my head around it. Let's get back to work."
As they went back to the body Nick moved next to Joyce and said "So, are you as strong as Buffy?"
"If that's a pick-up line it needs work. I'm stronger, faster, and wilder, baby. And modest too."
While Nick and Catherine returned to the body Joyce stood near Willow and murmured "You did something, didn't you? Saw your eyes change."
Willow looked slightly guilty, and said "Just a suggestibility spell to make them a little more inclined to our point of view, might not even have been needed. Don't worry, they wanted to help you anyway, I just made it a little easier."
"Chill out, Willow. If the worse comes to the worse they'll put me in a cell somewhere, and I'll just have to escape again. Not like it's difficult or anything. Don't hurt yourself trying to protect me."
"Don't worry, I'm being careful. Now keep cool, cos' I'm going to use some real power to find out exactly what happened here."
Raising her voice, she said "I think I can cast a spell that will help you, if that's okay, but it's a one-shot deal so you'll need to be ready to record it. You'll need camcorders and lights."
"Okay," said Willow, "Spell's ready to activate. Remember, I can't work the mojo twice, it's like playing back a tape that self-destructs. This won't be detailed, you won't be able to recognise faces. But it won't harm your evidence and ought to give you a rough idea of what happened. If I've got it right the playback will start a couple of minutes before the Bringer died, and end a couple of minutes after. From what the barman said it all went down very quickly. Are your guys ready, Nick?"
"Ready," he said. "Cameras rolling."
"Okay." Willow threw some crushed powders into a coffee mug, which began to produce clouds of yellow vapour, rapidly filling the bar with a thin mist. "Memory of what was, spirit of this place, show us what is to be shown. Comperio! Disclose!"
The vapour clumped to outline vague forms seated at the tables, four figures at the bar, and someone behind it. A minute later another form appeared at the door, roughly five feet tall, seemed to look out of the window, then quickly moved to the ladies room. Moments later more shapes appeared at the door, six squat forms which darted amongst the customers. One went into the ladies room. About thirty seconds later the other five seemed to notice something outside the bar and ran out again, fading into nothingness.
"That's it," said Willow about thirty seconds later, "hope it gave you something useful."
"I think so," said Catherine, "let's compare notes and have a look at the tapes."
"Right," said Catherine, looking at the screens, "That's probably the Potential. She comes in, a little unsteady on her feet, looks around, then stands there looking out the window. As she does so I think she puts her hand on the glass, about there." She pointed at the window, and Nick put a yellow marker below the point she indicated. "Here it looks like she notices something outside, because she immediately moves toward the ladies room, possibly touching the wall again as she does so, about there." Another marker. "Now she goes into the ladies room and shuts the door behind her. As she goes in there the Bringers come in and start to sniff around the customers. Meanwhile she's gone to the fire exit and it looks like she's trying to get the door open... no, she's doing something to the alarm first. Check that."
"Yeah," called Nick from the ladies room, "looks like the wire is cut, wanted to get out without setting it off. Probably prints on the wire or the sensor box. That's interesting, she's cut just one lead, left the others intact, looks like she knows how to neutralise an alarm."
"That fast? There are pro burglars that would take longer. Is it part of your training?" Catherine asked Joyce.
"No, must be something she picked up for herself."
"Now one of the Bringers goes into the ladies room, she immediately turns and attacks it. From the speed with which it falls I'd say she's already armed, it doesn't look like she takes the knife from the Bringer until after it's down. Judging by the wounds on the body it's another Bringer knife she's using, or something very like it. She drags it to the closet then goes out the door. From there she could turn left or right, but we've got nothing outside the building. Right takes her towards the strip, and towards the alley where the other body was found, but it also takes her past the front of the bar. About fifteen seconds later we have the Bringers leaving, I guess in pursuit."
"Why did she go that way?" asked Nick. "Doesn't seem to be any reason for it, left would give her more of a lead."
"She's not running," said Joyce. "She's luring. Took one out in the John, another in the alley. She's letting them catch up with her, one by one, and killing them."
"If you're right," said Willow, "and she killed this one before the one in the alley, and she already had a Bringer dagger, there's another body out there somewhere."
"Whoever she is," said Joyce admiringly, "she's good."
"Something I've noticed," said Nick, "we've got two bodies but neither has any possessions apart from the robes and that one knife. No keys, no wallets, nothing."
"They're demons," said Catherine, "Why would they have any of those things?"
"We know they use money," said Nick, spraying part of the window with fluorescent powder, "the bartender mentioned they've bought bottled water. Come to think of it, he said they've been in more than once, which implies that they're staying somewhere in Vegas, and probably in this neighbourhood. That's a break, the windows have been cleaned recently. Here's a hand print, looks reasonably fresh."
Catherine photographed the print, then Nick carefully transfered it to a print lifter. "Looks like we have palm, first and second fingers and thumb there, right hand. May tell us who we're trying to help." They moved to the wall, and Nick began to spray there.
"Most demons live in human society to some extent," said Willow, "but I've always thought of the Bringers as the exceptions. They just seem to appear out of nowhere, we've only ever found them on the streets and in caves."
"Not many caves in the middle of Vegas," said Catherine. "Maybe they have the same problem that you did?"
"Which one?" asked Willow.
"Too much magic. From what you've told us they just appear, attack someone, then vanish again, but maybe they can't do that so easily here. If they've come in from out of town they'd somewhere to stay, maybe a rented apartment or some sort of abandoned building, and probably transport. They'd also need to buy food and drink, normally I assume they get it wherever they live."
"It probably is something like that, there's still a lot we don't know about them. They might not even live in this dimension normally."
"So where are they getting the money?" asked Nick.
"Probably stealing it," said Joyce. "Or killing people to get it."
"Wouldn't we be finding bodies?"
"Depends. Might have them stashed away somewhere, might be eating them. Willow?"
"They haven't eaten the Potentials they've killed. We've found bodies." She paled for a moment as she remembered.
"Catherine," said Nick, "I don't think we're going to get useful prints here, all I'm seeing is smudges."
"Let's move on to the fire exit and the alarm."
"Okay. Willow, what happens if your girl manages to kill all the Bringers that are after her?"
"More would go after her, but it might be a while. This has been going on for months, and we're still finding occasional Potentials that they've missed. One turned up in Sunnydale a couple of months ago, she was actually in the same class as Buffy's sister."
"Sister?" said Joyce, for a moment confused, then "Oh yeah, Dawn."
"I don't think you knew her very well, did you?" said Willow. There was an odd note in her voice, and Catherine wondered what she was missing.
"No, she was like ten or eleven then, wasn't she? A real brat."
"She was here earlier this year with Buffy," said Catherine, "she seemed to be a very resourceful girl."
"With Buffy for her sister she'd have to be," said Joyce, "or a total doormat. Guess she chose not to be Buffy's doormat."
"Here we are," said Nick, "a very pretty print on the alarm sensor, even though I say it myself. Get pictures then I'll lift it."
Catherine got the photos, then her phone began to beep. She listened, then said "Officer down, about a mile from here. Looks like a Bringer attack, Grissom's at the crime scene. Wants us there when we've finished here."
"What's the story?" asked Catherine twenty minutes later. The new crime scene was a used car lot a few blocks from the strip, now surrounded by police cars with two helicopters circling the area.
"Officer Ralph Dugan, twelve years on the force," said Grissom. "Multiple stab wounds to the thorax and throat cut, within the last couple of hours. A car salesman found the body, pushed underneath the red Cadillac. There's a Bringer corpse over here by the dumpster, still oozing ichor, also with multiple stab wounds."
"Any shots fired?"
"No, and Dugan's gun is missing."
Nick looked the scene over. "There doesn't seem to be any blood on the Bringer."
"I'd noticed."
"So what are you thinking?" asked Nick, "The Bringers chased the girl here, Dugan saw what was going on and came to help and was jumped by one of them? She killed a Bringer and ran while the others were fighting Dugan?"
"Could be. See anything wrong with that idea?"
Catherine looked around, then said "Why didn't Dugan shoot the Bringers, or call for backup? Not like they're human, there's been a warning out all day, and he must have seen they were trying to kill her. And what happened to the gun? Bringers don't use them, from what Willow says."
"Good question. Especially since it looks like Dugan was attacked from the front only. That presumably means no more than two Bringers, one fighting the girl and one on Dugan."
"Maybe he was trying to be a hero?" suggested Willow.
"Maybe, but he was an experienced officer, it just doesn't feel right."
"Anyone checked the security cameras?" asked Nick.
"I was just about to ask you."
"On it." Nick went off to the sales office. Catherine and Grissom turned their attention to the area around the Cadillac.
"I could try that spell again," said Willow, "not sure how well it would work out in the open, but..."
"Leave it, Will," said Joyce, in a low voice. "They've got forensics and the cameras, they don't need you yet. Keep the magic for when it's really needed. I hope I'm wrong, but I've got a bad feeling that we're gonna want it eventually."
"Why?"
"Call it a hunch."
"I think you're all going to want to see this," said Nick, about fifteen minutes later, and started the tape playing in the car lot office. "It's a slow-scan system, one picture from each camera every second or so. I'm playing back the recording from the camera that covers that part of the lot in real time. The entrance to the lot is on the left, there's a side gate to the right."
A young woman ran from right to left, recorded as a series of blurry images, then ducked behind a car. "That's the green BMW saloon near the Cadillac, she may have left prints on it."
"Freeze it a second," said Grissom. "Can you zoom in to get a better view of her face?"
"Not with this recorder, but no problem back at the lab. She stays still for about thirty seconds now, so we should be able to enhance it reasonably well."
"Start it playing again."
"Watch what happens to the right." After thirty seconds a Bringer came into view, bent forward and apparently sniffing the air. It moved forward slowly, drawing its knife as it seemed to catch the scent of the girl, then went round the front of the car. As it did so she leaped into view, vaulting the hood of the car and landing behind it. It started to turn, knife in hand, but she stabbed it first, cutting deep into its chest, then cut its throat and wiped the knife on its robe.
"Good moves," said Joyce tautly, "reminds me of me."
"Keep watching," said Nick.
"What's happened to the other Bringers?" asked Willow.
A uniformed beat cop came into view as the girl started to move away from the body, gun in hand. She turned to face him, apparently listening to something he was saying, then dropped the dagger and pointed at the corpse. Dugan stepped closer, moving the Bringer's robe slightly so that he could see its face. As he did so the girl seemed to fall forward, rolling on the ground and coming up with another dagger in her hand. She stabbed Dugan as efficiently as she had stabbed the Bringer, cut his throat and took the gun as he dropped it, then quickly went through his pockets and rolled his body under the Cadillac. She pulled the Bringer into trash beside the dumpster, and walked off towards the street.
"I don't believe it," said Willow. "There has to be something wrong with her, a spell or something, or maybe she saw something that made her realise that he was in league with the Bringers, or..."
"Forget it, Will," Joyce said bitterly. The CSI team turned to listen. "There was no spell, and nothing wrong with him, and even if there was she didn't have time to notice it. She was ready to kill anyone that got in her way, period. Let's face it, our potential is a psycho, and from the moves she was making I'm guessing that the Watchers spent at least two or three years training her to be a better killer."
"Are you sure?" asked Willow.
"Is anyone else surprised?" asked Joyce. The others were silent. "The way the Watchers work, they find the Potentials as young as they can, try to separate them from their familes and friends, and persuade them that they've been chosen by God, or some sort of higher power, that the mission is all that's important, and that if they're really lucky they'll be Chosen and get to have a really short life fighting monsters. You know who else works like that? Religious cults and terrorists. Of course you're gonna end up with a few whackos."
"I know that you had it hard, F.. Joyce," said Willow, "but I always kinda hoped you'd been the exception."
"Dream on, girl. You've met Watchers, you know what they're like. Buffy was the exception, and that's because they didn't get her hands on her until she was already the Slayer, because her mom and Angel and the gang were there, and because Giles is one of the few Watchers that're half-way to a decent human being. And Giles is one mean SOB when he wants to be. Remember what happened on Buffy's eighteenth birthday? Remember Wesley trying to ship me back to England for re-programming when I decided to think for myself? Did Buffy tell you about the hit squad they sent to LA?"
Willow shook her head and said "Most of the Potentials seem normal enough."
"Most of the Potentials are dead, Will. From what you've told me the ones in Sunnydale are the survivors, and untrained kids the First didn't find because the Watchers didn't know about them. What do you know about the ones that didn't make it? What do any of us know? The Watchers didn't exactly produce newsletters."
"It sounds plausible," said Grissom. "As soon as I heard about Slayers and saw Buffy in action I began to wonder what would happen if someone unstable had those abilities. I was thinking of Buffy's strength and speed, I should have paid more attention to the training and indoctrination, and its possible effects."
"Believe me," said Joyce, "I've been there, did things... Wasn't for Angel I'd be dead or in the psycho ward. I've seen killers, and that girl's one of them. I'm not saying the Watchers made her that way, but they sure as hell helped. The one good thing that the First has done is to kill most of them and smash their organisation. Sooner or later someone will probably replace them, if we live through the next few months, but with luck we won't end up with another bunch of old men that treat teenage girls as expendable cannon fodder."
"But Buffy..." began Willow.
"Maybe you're too close to her to see it," said Catherine, "and too used to the way things are, but it's different looking in from the outside. Buffy's been killed twice, she fights monsters on a daily basis, and her sister thinks it's a good day if she comes home alive. Sara and I compared notes after her last visit. We both had the impression that she'd been badly hurt, physically and emotionally, over and over again. Am I wrong?"
"No... I guess you're right. She was at the end of her rope before she died, and I'm still not sure she's over that, or all the problems she had after she came back, or the grief I gave her."
"I can't see any way these Watchers could prepare anyone for that sort of work, and the world you live in, that wouldn't risk putting them over the edge. As Joyce said, some just won't be able to handle it."
"Joyce," Grissom repeated reflectively, "is that your real name?"
"What?"
"Two or three times now Willow has started to call you something else, and what you've just told us doesn't match what you originally said. Is there something I should know?"
Willow looked guiltily at Joyce, who shrugged and said "Guess we're just not very good liars. Okay, my name's Faith and I'm not just another Potential..."
Willow tuned out her story and began to prepare the suggestibility spell again.
It was early evening when, back at headquarters, Nick said "I've got her. Prints match Patricia Craig, aged eighteen, been on the run for the last four years. Homicide, attempted murder, assaults, theft, grand theft auto, arson. She's not quite on the ten most wanted list, but it isn't for want of trying."
"Any pictures?" asked Catherine.
"Nothing recent, apart from some blurry security camera pictures. I'd say it's the same girl, but I couldn't prove it. I think the prints are proof enough."
"Proof that she was in the bar, but we've nothing for Dugan's murder. We didn't find any good prints at the car lot. It could possibly be a coincidence."
"Okay, let's just call it a working assumption for now."
"I think she matches the profile you suggested," Grissom said, nodding towards Faith. "Born in New York, ran away from home four years ago, when she was fourteen. Her home was burned down a year later and both her parents were killed. Her fingerprints were found on a can of kerosene used to start the fire. After that she was on the run, and is known to have committed assaults and robberies up and down the East coast. Prints found on a stolen car in San Francisco last year, escaped from an FBI sting operation against car thieves at the end of the year. She shot her way out, wounding two agents. After that nothing, I'd assume she kept a low profile until the Bringers found her."
"Were her parents abusive?" asked Willow.
"I'm still waiting on more detailed reports," said Grissom, "reading between the lines I'd say no, they seem to have made a good impression on the police when she first disappeared."
"I'd guess a minimum of a year's training for her to be ready with moves like that, more likely two," said Faith, "probably a Watcher started training her while she was still living with her parents, then they decided she'd do better if she was with the Watcher full-time. They must have made it seem like joining them was an adventure, or found some way to pry her away from her parents. Talked her into thinking that they were against her."
"Now that you've got me thinking about it there are other possibilities," contributed Willow, "Worse things. The Watchers... some of them, the hard liners, thought that the end justified the means. Any means. They had drugs and magic. They could have brainwashed her, had her believing that she was an orphan, or that her parents had abused her."
"That's a hell of a thought," said Faith, ashen faced. "You mean that they could have done something like that to me?"
"Not for long, not once you became a Slayer. Buffy kinda shakes off spells that affect her mind, she was the first to spot Jonathan... never mind, it's a long story. I'm betting you do too. You could be fooled for a day or two, but not in the long run. In fact, thinking about it, I don't think that they would work quite that way, in case their Potential became a Slayer and it all fell apart. But what they might have done is influenced some decisions, without tampering with your memory. Say you had an argument with your mother, and you might have said something that helped you get back together or forced you further apart, they could have influenced that. Or influenced your mother, of course."
"No way I'll ever know now, I guess, last I heard my mother was dead and everyone who trained me, but it's a hell of a thought," Faith repeated. "Suddenly I'm even more glad that they're out of it."
"If they had that much power, why isn't Craig a loyal Potential?" asked Catherine.
"Something must have split her from her Watcher," said Faith. "If I had to guess... about two years after I started training, before I became a Slayer, my Watcher took me to the cemetary and made me help him kill a vampire. Think they do it as soon as they think a Potential is ready. I nearly freaked out, maybe this girl took it worse. Made her understand that she'd left her parents to buy into a good chance of an early ugly death. Maybe she was bit, or her Watcher was killed."
"That's plausible," said Grissom. "Why kill her parents?"
"Damned if I know. You'll need a shrink for that one. And if Willow is right, you might need to know how the Watchers messed with her head."
"How the hell did they get away with it?" asked Nick. "Why didn't anyone catch on?"
"People don't want to know," said Willow. "They really don't. They don't want to believe that Slayers are needed, they try to forget that the dark is there. And the Watchers had magic and enormous influence to help them stay out of sight. That's one of the reasons why Sunnydale hardly ever made the news. It's falling apart now, people are starting to notice that there's something wrong about the place, a lot worse than gangs on PCP."
"This is fascinating," said Grissom, "but we need to find her before someone else is hurt or killed. Any thoughts? Catherine?"
"We've been working on the assumption that she's hiding somewhere relatively close to the crime scenes and the Strip. It could be any of the hotels, or someone's home, or maybe she's just sleeping rough. What I don't understand is why she's staying in Las Vegas. She has to know that the Bringers are on her trail, why isn't she running? She knows how to steal cars."
"I think they chased her here," said Faith. "Or maybe she's just tired of running. The police have been after her for years, add in the Bringers and she has to be getting worn down. Maybe she wants to get rid of them before she moves on."
"She's more likely to get herself killed," said Nick.
"Do we have anything to go on?" asked Grissom. "Something that might resemble useful evidence?"
"Squat," said Nick. "We think we know who she is, and Brass has every patrolman and car in Vegas looking for her and the Bringers, but as far as actually locating her goes... squat."
"How about you, Willow?"
"I don't know... I could try to reach her telepathically. Now we know more about her it might work, if I was pretty close."
"Let's save that until we know a little more about her whereabouts. Faith, any suggestions?"
"Not unless you've got someone I can pound on. Willow's the girl for deep thought, I'm more action babe."
"I'll tell you one thing," said Willow thoughtfully, leafing through some of the case reports, "either the barman was lying this morning, or there's something he hasn't told us."
"What makes you say that?" asked Grissom.
"I should have realised when I talked to him. He said that the Bringers ordered mineral water. I've never heard them talk, not sure they can speak, or at any rate speak English, so how did they ask?"
"I can't believe this was in an evidence bag and we didn't spot it," said Nick.
"Why should we?" asked Catherine reasonably. "It's a drinks order, it's in the trash in a bar."
"Most people don't need to write down an order for five bottles of mineral water."
"Okay, so we blew it. Happy now?"
"You have something?" asked Grissom, looking at the pile of garbage that the team had been sifting in one of the labs.
"It was actually bagged in the bar this afternoon," said Catherine, "nobody got around to looking at it properly. The Bringers' drinks order."
"Half a sheet of low quality writing paper... and there's a phone number at the bottom. Checked it on the computer yet?"
"Hamrax Hotels. It's the number for their centralised reservations system, not an individual hotel, but there are only four in Las Vegas."
"Get cars to all of them, right away."
"On it."
"So what have we got?" asked Grissom about ten minutes later.
"The Hamrax Hotel west of the strip," said Brass over the radio, "another massacre. Four more of those demons dead, plus the bodies of two maids."
"Any sign of the girl?"
"Yeah. She's still here, she's got hostages. Get the Sunnydale people over here, we're probably going to need them."
"What's the tactical situation?" asked Grissom.
Brass pointed at the plans of the hotel. "Our men found the bodies in this room here, with the girl standing over them. She shot her way out, they chased her to this room here, occupied by a family of four, parents and two kids. As far as we know they're all unharmed. One officer down in the corridor, sucking chest wound. Knife. He'll probably make it."
"Is she hurt at all?"
"Not that we know."
"Have you tried talking to her?"
"Of course."
"What does she want?"
"Hostage negotiator says she isn't making much sense."
"Willow, Faith, listen to the tape, see if there's anything there. Is there anything else we can do here, or should we concentrate on the other room and the corridor for now?"
"That's probably best. I'll let you know if the situation changes."
"Both maids have been dead for two or three hours," said Catherine. "Necks broken, looks like some sort of martial arts move."
"Could the Craig girl have done it?" asked Grissom.
"She was killing Dugan around the same time, and I think the Bringer bodies are much more recent," said Nick, "the ichor is still a little runny, not as gooey as it was with the other corpses."
"I think it'd take a lot more strength than any normal human," said Catherine, "as I understand it even Potentials aren't much above the top end of the normal range, they're not superhuman the way a Slayer is."
"We can rule out Faith," said Grissom, "she was with us throughout, so that leaves us with someone else. Someone extraordinarily strong."
"Not the Bringers, they use knives. Something else."
"Could be a vampire," said Nick, "they have the strength."
"And this room has open curtains and faces West," said Grissom. "The sun would have lit most of the room when the murders took place."
"We can't rule it out completely," said Catherine, "someone might have opened the windows after a vampire left."
"It's possible, but the simpler assumption is that the curtains were open all along. They've been hooked back, look pretty neat apart from the blood and ichor stains."
"Okay... yes, in fact there are a couple of stains on the window that wouldn't have been there if the curtain was closed."
"Okay, scratch that idea. Who actually booked the room?" asked Nick.
"You'll love this one," said Grissom, after checking, "It was booked in the name of Buffy Summers of Sunnydale, California."
"You're kidding."
"No."
"Each time I talked to her she ranted about a rock group," said the hostage negotiator. "Wants them to come here."
"Which one?" asked Willow, curious.
"Slayer."
"Figures," said Faith.
"Does she refer to 'Slayer' or 'The Slayer'?" asked Willow.
"Let's see..."; he rewound a tape and pressed play. "...get off your butts and get her here. Get the Slayer here.". He stopped the tape, and said "You're right, it's 'the Slayer'. I was convinced she meant the rock group. I think they're in town this week."
"Nope. She wants the Slayer. Think we should let her have her, Faith?"
"Depends what she's expecting," said Faith, "and why she wants her."
"This slayer is a person?" asked the hostage negotiator.
"That's right," said Willow. "Sounds like you need to talk to Captain Brass, he knows what we're talking about. Or someone else that worked with her last summer. Weren't you here?"
"No, I moved from Reno a few months ago."
"Okay. Talk to Brass please. Has she been calling you, or do you call her?"
"So far we've called her, she hasn't called out."
"Can I talk to her? I need to get a feel for her mind."
"You're a psychiatrist?"
"No. I'm a witch."
"You're a what?"
"Please... talk to Brass."
"Buffy's still in California," said Catherine. "I called her home number, spoke to Dawn then her."
"Ask Willow," said Grissom, "she might know what's going on."
"Ask me what?" Willow said from the doorway.
"This room was booked in Buffy's name. When we checked the security camera footage for the time she booked in there's nothing; the clerk's talking to an empty lobby."
"Okay, score another triumph for the First Evil. Booking into a hotel under a false name, yay!"
"Willow," Catherine asked, "are you okay?"
"Sorry. It's just... this thing is supposed to be the ultimate source of all evil, but most of the time all it can do is pretend to be dead people and try to creep people out. It can't even touch them. It's kinda petty."
"Dead people? Buffy's not.. oh."
"She was, and that's all the First needs."
"You had to spoil my fun," said a woman's voice from behind Willow. "I was hoping to cause the bitch a few problems." The CSI team looked up to see a blonde woman with a bleeding wound in her breast behind Willow.
"If I turn around," said Willow, "and you're looking like Tara as well as sounding like her I'll promise you now that whatever I finally do to you will last twice as long and be three times as nasty as it needs to be."
The woman morphed into a sneering man in his early twenties. "Yeah, you'd know about that, wouldn't you, bitch." He walked forward, passing through Willow as though he wasn't there.
"Warren," said Willow, "What a nice non-surprise."
"She killed me, you know. Not the only one. I'll show you." He held his arms out, and his skin was abruptly torn off before his body burst into flames. "Did I deserve this?"
"Well, you're you," said Willow, "whatever the hell you are, and that sure as hell isn't the real Warren, wherever he is. Although seeing as he murdered two people and tried for three I can't say he wouldn't deserve that. But you're an illusion, you don't even show up on photographs, which makes anything you might want to show to these nice people kinda irrelevant."
Warren reappeared, and turned into Buffy, saying "You're full of it, Willow. You nearly destroyed the world, and you won't even admit you killed Warren."
Grissom and Catherine exchanged horrified glances.
"If there was anything I wanted to admit to anyone I'd do it after you're history," said Willow. "You really think I'm gonna let my conscience stop me from whipping your ass first? Tell me something... Why the hell are you stuck imitating the ten best-dressed corpses from Sunnydale instead of all the Vegas talent. Where's Elvis? Where's Sinatra? Where's Tom Jones?"
"Actually Tom Jones is still alive," said Catherine, smiling despite the situation.
"Oh. That'd explain it, then, cos I sort of wondered, what with him being in the Austin Powers movie and all. Or was it Mars Attacks? But that kinda proves my point, cos' no way is this whatever-the-hell imitating him. I'll bet it can't even sing like him, let alone Elvis."
"So this is the first Evil," said Faith from the doorway. "Thought you'd look like Buffy. Blonde, vain, and kinda dumb."
It morphed to another form, a man with a stake impaled in his chest.
"That is so lame," said Faith, "Finch. You're a corpse. Big deal."
"You killed me, bitch."
"Yeah, accidentally, and I've done time for it, and when we're done with you I'm planning to go back for more. I'm with Willow on this, anyone as unimaginative as you doesn't deserve to win."
"Oh by the way," said Willow, "Thanks for showing up here, it really helps to make our point about how you're trying to frame Buffy."
Finch morphed into a horrific demon, snarled at Willow and Faith, then disappeared. Faith said "Has it gone?"
Willow seemed to look into nothingness for a moment, then said "I think so. Not in the immediate vicinity, my guess is it's either trying for the Potential... Patricia... or left town. This is just a sideshow for it, not something important. The main battle's in Sunnydale, and that's where most of its attention is."
"Why didn't it try for one of our dead?" asked Catherine. "Most of us have blood on our hands one way or another, people we could have saved if we'd been a little faster or cleverer. We've seen endless bodies."
"So have we. It probably didn't bother to get inside your heads and see which ones are important to you. My guess is that you're just not promising material for the sort of spook show the First puts on. You get... closure... from the way you deal with death."
"What was that about Warren? The person it said you killed."
"Warren Mears killed his girlfriend," Willow said flatly. "Then he tried to drive Buffy insane, and shot Buffy and killed my lover with a stray bullet. She was standing two feet from me when it happened. He went on the run, I'm really not expecting him to come back."
"And that ghost, or whatever it was? Wouldn't he have to be dead?"
"I think I've given you all the answer you're gonna get."
"What do you think?" Catherine asked when Willow and Faith had left the room. "It was bad enough that Faith's an escaped murderer, now Willow's as good as admitted that she killed this Meers."
"Not really," said Grissom. "We have nothing that would stand up in a court of law, and if it did ever come to that and the circumstances are as she describes I doubt that any jury would convict. Meanwhile we have a hostage situation and a crime scene to examine. Somebody killed the maids, and I don't think it was Craig or the Bringers."
"I think you should tell Brass," said Nick. "What that thing said about destroying the world... if Willow is capable of that, I'm a little uncomfortable with letting her get too busy with her magic."
"You may have a point. All right, I'll take care of it. You two carry on here."
"Captain Brass? I'm Willow Rosenberg. Can we talk privately?"
"Grissom explained who you are."
"Good. I need to talk to Patricia Craig, and your hostage negotiator guy won't let me."
"Sit down, Miss Rosenberg. What exactly did you have in mind?"
"Briefly, I want to find out what it is that she really wants, not just what it is she says the wants. In order to do that I need to talk to her, that'll let me attune my mind to her thoughts. It may also be possible to influence her."
"Can't you just listen to what she says?"
"No, the spell won't work properly that way."
"So you're planning to cast a spell. Isn't that a little dangerous?"
"For me, yes."
"What about the world?"
"The world is pretty safe provided things don't foul up too badly in Sunnydale over the next few weeks. There's a better chance that they'll be okay if I can get this finished and Faith and I head off ASAP."
"Faith. Yes... I've taken a look at her record. She seems to have had an interesting career. Not least her current status as an escaped felon. And it appears that she's a Slayer, which is something I really ought to have known earlier."
"Is she wanted in Nevada?"
"Not yet. But we'll have to arrest her and notify California."
"Okay. I guess that you can do that if you want to. There are unpleasant things I can do too."
"Threats, Miss Rosenberg?"
"A reminder. Do you remember your involvement in the Knights of Byzantium, Captain? The organisation you sent after a sixteen-year-old girl less than a year ago?"
Brass turned pale.
"Ever wonder why you never heard back from them, Captain?"
"Relieved would be the word. I hated having to make that call, but I thought it was my duty, now I'm not so sure."
"Now there you go, I can tell that you mean that. This is the sort of thing I want to do with our friend Patricia, just talk to her and find out what she wants."
"What happened to the Knights? Please."
"The first time they went after Dawn Buffy thought that they'd been wiped out. I wasn't so sure, it seemed to me that an army like that would have some organisation behind it, and might carry on as a threat even with Glory destroyed. So I did some research. And believe me I'm good at research, and that was at a time when I wasn't afraid to use my magic to get better results. My dossier on the Knights ran to more than four hundred pages. I passed it on to Riley Finn a year or so ago, and his outfit has been... neutralising... them for some time. Some have been retired, other are working for Finn and other agencies now, although they may not know it. When you phoned them your call ended up at a CIA office somewhere; eventually they got the details passed on to Finn, and out of courtesy he let me know. I knew that Buffy was working part-time for your department, so I asked him to leave it alone unless you went after her yourself."
"So you're blackmailing me?"
"No. I just wanted to remind you that we can all make bad decisions. I've made them, Faith's made them, and you've made them. But that doesn't mean that all of our decisions have to be bad. Faith wants to put things right and save the world. So do I. And I'm sure that in your heart of hearts you want to let us."
"And if I say no?"
"We do things your way, and I'd imagine at least one of the hostages will be killed. Faith will probably escape - in case you hadn't noticed she's at least as powerful as Buffy - and make her own way to Sunnydale. I hope that she won't hurt too many officers on the way. If you arrest me I'll also probably escape, and that will take some really dangerous magic with a good chance of tipping me over the edge. It'll probably end with both of us weaker in the final battle that's coming, and if we lose that it's probably game over for the human race. We really don't want to do these things, but there isn't a choice."
There was a long pause, then Brass said "Make your call."
In room 704, the operations centre, a flat-panel CCTV monitor showed the view inside room 709, picked up by a tiny fibre-optic lens pushed under the door. Patricia Craig was sitting on the floor by a table, with a small girl held against her chest. She was holding the girl with a knife at her throat. There was another child on the bed; both children looked terrified.
"I think that's Dorothy Jones she's holding," said the hostage negotiator, "Rachel Jones is on the bed. Dorothy is six, Rachel is eight."
"What about the parents?" asked Brass.
"Brian and Suzanne Jones. Must be locked in the bathroom, or somewhere out of shot of the camera. Maybe lying on the floor behind the bed where we can't see them."
Willow sat on the floor, wearing a hands-free telephone headset, trying to match the position shown on the screen as closely as she could. When she was ready she said "Okay, ring her phone and patch me through."
There was a few seconds delay, then Willow heard the ring tone.
"Come on," said Willow, "pick up the phone."
"I'm surprised you're letting her do this," Grissom whispered to Brass.
"I agree with you that both women are dangerous," he replied, "but now I've talked to Miss Rosenberg I'm sure that they're doing their best to help. Sometimes we need dangerous people."
"You're sure she didn't do something to you? Cast a spell or something?"
"More or less. I didn't like what she was saying, if she'd been using magic I think the conversation would have gone very differently."
"Come on, Patricia, answer," said Willow.
"I'm questioning everything I've done since I've met her," said Grissom. "I get the feeling that Nick, Catherine, and I have been just a little too ready to go along with their suggestions."
"If half of what we've been told about her is true she could have us licking her boots if she wanted to," said Brass. "Either she's not doing anything, or she's pulling her punches so as not to hurt us. Either way, it doesn't look like she's dangerous to us or out of control."
"Let's hope you're right."
Willow moved her hand, as though picking up a phone from the table. "Yes?" said the voice in everyone's earphones.
"Patricia Craig? My name is Willow Rosenberg."
"So?"
"So you want to speak to the Slayer, Patricia. Convince me that you deserve to."
"What the hell is this?" whispered the hostage negotiator.
"Calm down," whispered Brass, "I think she knows what she's doing."
"What do you mean?" said Patricia.
"She's a busy woman. You know, vampires to stake, demons to slay. Why should she drop everything for you?" Her lips began to move in time with Patricia's words.
"I've got hostages."
"Which is why I'm talking to you at all. What is it you want?" As she spoke to Patricia, Willow changed her position slightly, exactly matching Patricia's movements on-screen.
"I want to meet the Slayer, face to face."
"Will you release your hostages first?"
"No."
"Then why should I waste the Slayer's time."
"I know she's in Las Vegas. I heard about the vampire nest. Tell the Slayer that if I don't meet her, face to face, these people die."
"That was last year, Patricia, the Slayer's moved on."
"Then move her back, Watcher." There was a click as she hung up the phone.
Willow shook herself, then stood. "So much rage..."
"Do you know what she wants?" asked Brass.
"I underestimated her. Thought she just wanted to die, but she's more ambitious than that."
"It's me, isn't it," said Faith. "She wants to kill me."
"Okay," said Grissom, "I guess I can understand the basic idea. She's been told that whenever a Slayer dies a Potential takes her place. What I don't understand is why she thinks it'll be her."
"She's seen Highlander?" suggested Faith, "'There can be only one?'"
"I think that's pretty much it," said Willow. "except I doubt that she consciously thinks of it in quite those terms. She thinks that if she's powerful enough to defeat the Slayer she'll take her place. It's as simple as that."
"What about the hostages? What does she think of them?"
"They're expendable. Totally. She can see all four of them, the parents are tied up on the floor behind the bed, but she isn't really thinking of them, except maybe as bait. There's no compassion in there, no remorse."
"Nothing?"
"I've come across vampires with more respect for human life - and I'm not talking about Angel or Spike here. Something's burned out any compassion she might once have had."
"Sounds like a sociopath," said Grissom.
"I think she's got the idea that it's okay if a few people get hurt if at the end of the day she's a better fighter, a more efficient monster killer. She's wrong, any Slayer that's worth a damn has total emotional commitment. I've been inside Buffy's mind, seen where the power comes from. Same with Faith, although she shows it differently."
"Now I'm getting annoyed," said Faith.
"Don't pretend it isn't true. Three years ago you could have walked away, gone free with nobody on your trail. You gave it all up to save a bunch of strangers. You nearly got killed saving Angel just a couple of days ago."
"I was never good at walking from a fight," Faith said uncomfortably.
"Earlier you said something about controlling her magically," said Grissom. "Do you think that's possible now you've spoken to her?"
"I'm not sure," said Willow. "There's so much rage there, so much determination.. Getting her to do something would be really difficult. And she's sitting there with her knife at the throat of a little girl. We can't afford to try and find out I can't. By the same token I can't try to make her sleep, or anything like that, there's too much chance that she'd kill her before she went under. All of the other ways to attack her from a distance run into the same problem."
"What other ways are there?" asked Grissom.
"With the power that's available here I could teleport in there, take Faith with me, but it takes several seconds. It'd surprise her, I guess, but so would kicking the door down and it can go wrong in exactly the same ways."
"That's no good," said Brass, "anything else?"
"Nothing you'd want me to try. They're all too slow and uncertain. The fastest thing I've thought of so far is a sort of voodoo technique, I tune into her mind again, get her feeling what I'm feeling, then someone zaps me with a Taser or something, I transmit the pain to her. Trouble is she'd probably jerk and cut the kid's throat by reflex."
"You'd let someone do that to you?"
"If I thought it would work."
"What about the gun?" asked Brass. "She's got the knife and the kid in her hands, what's she done with the gun."
"On the table by the phone."
"Damn," said the SWAT commander, "given how she's holding the kid, there's no way we can be sure to take her. Even if we have total surprise going through the door she'd have time to kill the kid. I saw the tape, her reflexes have to be way too good."
"Okay," said Faith, "let's assume that the only way to do this is to fight her one on one, the way she wants. Does she expect Buffy or would any Slayer do?"
"I think we have to assume she's expecting Buffy," said Grissom. "She didn't exactly hide when she was here. Dozens of people could have described her."
"You're right," said Willow, "when she mentioned the Slayer there was a definite mental image. Kinda idealised, like Buffy crossed with Xena."
"Then the First hasn't been messing with her mind," said Faith. "or she'd look exactly like the real thing but be even more of a bitch."
"I think you're right. Whatever's going on in Patricia's head, it's home grown."
"Okay, can you make me look like Buffy? Like her version?"
"A seeming? Easy." She concentrated for a moment, and Faith's appearance changed, gradually morphing to a muscular blonde with a bandolier of stakes. "I can fine-tune it any way you like, all it takes is some concentration. But it won't last more than a few minutes once I stop concentrating."
"Okay. Can you protect the hostages somehow, long enough for me to take her, if I go in through the door? Or the window?"
"That's difficult. Invulnerability, force fields, stuff like that you usually need contact, or at least to be able to see the subject, and not just on TV. She's actually holding the kid so... no, not a chance."
"I didn't say we needed the kid, or anyone else in that room, to be indestructible. I just don't want them getting hurt. Could you.. I dunno, magic away her weapons?"
"She's still got hands, even without Slayer strength she has the martial arts moves, she could do a lot of harm before you got to her. Making the weapons vanish might be enough to trigger her."
"Okay, that's out. Any other way to protect them? Doesn't matter if it protects her too, provided it lets me get the hostages out first, or get her apart from them."
"I have an idea," said Grissom. "It's probably not a good one. Willow, you've been saying that if you use major magic the most likely side effect will be strange luck."
"That's right," said Willow. "The power in this city comes from gambling, how else would it show?"
"Could you do it deliberately? Make the hostages so lucky that no harm can come to them?"
"Goddess... you know, that could actually work. But she'd be lucky too, I couldn't make it miss her out."
"Makes it more of a fair fight," said Faith. "Let's do it. I'll go in from the window of the room above, more impressive than the door. Will, concentrate on keeping the hostages safe first, then give me backup. Everyone else, stay out of it until I've taken her out, anything you try to do will probably end up working for her."
"One thing, Faith... better not use any weapons. With the sort of luck she's gonna have you'd end up cutting off your own nose."
"No problem, I think I'll enjoy slapping this bitch around."
"Okay. This is going to be a magical ritual, invoking several goddesses, and for the best results I'll need some props. The main thing is something to generate a lot of random probabilities; coins would be best, but they need to be real gold or silver, failing that some dice, expensive ones. A silver pail to throw them from. Some wine to offer to the goddesses, a good Italian red and a bottle of Greek retsina, the most expensive you can find. Oh, and I'm probably gonna ruin this carpet. Can you do all that?"
Brass thought, nodded. "The dice would be easier to get in a hurry, there's a casino supply house just a couple of blocks away. How many dice?"
"Let's say a hundred."
"Okay, no problem. Say twenty minutes to have everything here."
"Faith, as soon as we have everything I'll cast the seeming again, then you should get ready to go in. It'll take me about five minutes to do the luck spell after that."
"Five by five. Just tell me when you're ready for me to go in."
"Okay," said Willow. "Everyone stay back. And try not to do anything that can be affected by chance, the luck I'm gonna pump into that room has to come from somewhere and it just might be here." She moved to a section of floor that had been cleared of furniture and began the invocation.
"Goddesses, hear my plea. Earth Mother, aid this charm. Eleos, goddess of mercy, aid this charm. Tyche, Fortuna, goddesses of luck, aid this charm. Your humble supplicant beseeches your intercession for the innocent. I offer you a libation of wine..." She walked in a circle, chanting a mixture of Greek and Latin, holding a bottle in each hand and slowly pouring them onto the carpet in a complex crossover pattern, staying inside the circle. As she completed the circuit the lines began to emit a golden glow, and the watching police could see that it was also coming from her skin. "...This aid I ask for the innocent, and in the name of luck, by the intercession of the goddesses. So mote it be." She picked up the pailful of dice and poured them around the circle. The light became blinding, then slowly faded to a gentle glow. Willow staggered, said "Do it!", and collapsed to her knees. Brass gave Faith the signal through his radio. He and Grissom moved forward, but Willow said "I'm okay, stay out of the circle." They stood a few feet back, gradually realising that every one of the dice was in one or another of the loops of the pattern on the floor and showing a six.
"Don't ever let the Gaming Commission know about this," said Brass.
Disguised by the earlier spell, Faith dropped from the window of room 809, caught the top of the window frame of 709, and jackknifed her heels into the window to smash the glass. Shards flew everywhere, but miraculously nobody was hurt. Patricia flinched back, somehow pushing the flat of her knife against Dorothy's throat instead of the edge.
"Ding dong," said Faith, landing in a crouch, "Slayer calling."
Patricia threw the child to one side, somehow without hurting her, and leaped forward at Faith, knife in hand. Faith dropped, avoiding the blow rather than trying to parry it, but Patricia caught her forehead with the hilt, drawing first blood. "Lucky," grunted Faith. They began to circle,
On the floor Suzanne Jones realised that hands were free, the rope that had secured them cut by a piece of flying glass. She began to work on her husband's bonds, staying down to stay out of the way of the fighting women. Rachel was still bound but wriggled onto the floor on the other side of the bed and tried to work her way over to her dazed sister.
Faith and Patricia traded blows, neither able to penetrate the other's defences. Faith's tactics were paying off, her skill, speed, and strength just countering Patricia's skill and luck.
In the circle Willow rose to her feet and began to chant again, watching the scene shown on the monitor, her eyes and hair turning black. She was floating a few inches above the floor. Both children seemed to blur then vanished from 709, reappearing between the conjuring circle and the waiting police in 704. They lay there, shaken but unharmed, and Catherine and Grissom lifted them clear and began to untie them.
In 709 Faith's blows began to connect, and she guessed that Patricia's luck was starting to run out. Patricia seemed to realise it too and began to fight more aggressively, trying to finish things quickly.
Willow vanished from the circle, reappearing above the bed in 709. Abruptly the power sustaining her vanished and she fell in a crouch. Simultaneously the circle in 704 stopped glowing. Willow gasped "luck's gone" and fainted, her nose bleeding and her hair fading back to red. Faith countered Patricia's blows and moved to the offensive, finally able to use her strength and speed aggressively. The fight was over in seconds, and the police burst in to mop up.
"What exactly happened there?" Grissom asked, once Willow was on her feet again.
"Pretty simple, really," said Willow. "I made everyone in that room lucky to protect the hostages, but with that much luck Patricia might have been able to beat Faith. So as soon as I could I began to take the luck away again, first by rescuing the kids then by going in myself. Teleporting is about the hardest spell there is, really eats power."
"So you went in there knowing that you'd have no power when you got there?"
"Pretty much, but I knew Faith wouldn't let me down. Without the luck there was no way a Potential could beat her."
"What happens now?" asked Faith.
"We arrest Patricia," said Brass, "evaluate her, I suspect that eventually she goes to trial, if she isn't found to be clinically insane and if she isn't extradited for the murder of her parents first. It'll take months."
"Will you need us?" asked Willow.
"I doubt it. You can't give us any admissible evidence, and there's not much doubt about the facts. As far as we're concerned she took hostages and was taken down by the hostage rescue team."
"That's good," said Faith, "When you're handling her, make sure she's really well guarded. She doesn't have Slayer strength or speed but she's definitely got the skill and the moves. Tell them she has special forces training or something, that might give them the idea."
"What about the other murders," asked Willow, "did she kill the maids, or was it the Bringers?"
"We're still working on that, at a guess I'd say no to both. We think that someone or something was travelling with the Bringers, our estimates from blood splatter and other evidence is that it's a man about six feet tall, considerably stronger than any normal human."
"Vampire?"
"Not likely. The room was on the sunny side of the hotel and the curtains and blinds were open."
"Then it isn't over."
"I think it might be," said Grissom, "for the moment anyway. We've nothing to indicate that any of the Bringers survived, if they had someone helping them he's had a four or five hour start. I think that room was always intended to be a dead end, that's why they booked it in Buffy's name. We'll run all the tests, of course, and follow up any leads we develop, but we haven't even found any usable fingerprints so far. Sometimes CSI work is like that."
"Would magic help at all?"
"We already have a pretty clear picture of what happened, and from what Nick and Catherine have told us you can't give us anything much better than we already have."
"So now what?" asked Faith.
"You go back to Sunnydale and fight your war," said Brass. "There still isn't any Federal paper on you, and as far as we're concerned you've done nothing here but help us make an arrest. Eventually we'll file a report to that effect, making it clear that you risked your own life to help children. It might help when you give yourself up. If we develop anything useful here we'll let Buffy know."
"Okay. Let's grab some food before we leave, fighting always leaves me hungry."
"I thought you always said hungry and horny," Willow said with a grin.
"Well, that too, but I wasn't gonna mention it in mixed company."
"If you'd care to join us, ladies," said Grissom, "there's a pretty good Italian restaurant a few blocks from here, and I'm sure that Captain Brass would be happy to foot the bill."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," said Brass, offering Willow his arm. "So, how're things with the Slayer. Sorry, Faith, the other Slayer..."
Epilogue
A few days later Grissom was in his office, trying to identify the insect larvae found in a rotting corpse, when Brass walked in and said "Switch on the news."
Grissom reached for the remote and saw an aerial view of a huge crater, obviously filmed from a helicopter. At the bottom of the screen was the logo 'Sunnydale CA.' As the sound came up he heard "...less than three hours ago, apparently caused by the collapse of a cave system underlying the town. All that remains is pulverized rubble, the wreckage of shattered buildings. The disaster follows weeks of rioting and violence in the town, which state officials now believe may have been triggered by toxic gases venting from the caves. Ironically, this violence may have saved the lives of most of the inhabitants, who fled to neighbouring towns for safety. At the moment the death toll is believed to be very low, probably no more than twenty or thirty."
"They had their war," said Grissom.
"Looks like it," agreed Brass. "Wonder who won."
The picture shifted to a yellow bus stopped near several police cars, with a small crowd around it. "State police have been intercepting vehicles en route to Sunnydale, and helping the last few stragglers from the town. This school bus contained the last people to have left Sunnydale, a group of students and their teachers, many of them injured when the school, near the epicentre of the disturbance, began to collapse."
The camera zoomed in on the group, mostly girls in their teens, and both men recognised Faith, Buffy, and Dawn to one side, as the camera zoomed in on Willow. She said "We wanted to evacuate the student records - we were afraid they'd be lost if there was more rioting. We'd just got inside the building when it began to shake and chunks of the ceiling fell down, most of us were hurt by that. We got out and back to the bus and a huge crater began to open, so Xander drove us out of there and we just kept going. It was a miracle we got clear."
An off-screen reporter asked "What are you going to do now?"
"We're heading for LA. They've just air-lifted out the principal and a couple of other guys who were badly injured, we all want to catch up with them and with our families and friends. If it's okay with you we'll be getting along."
The screen shifted to show another view over the crater, and the reporter said "State officials are already dealing with the relocation of the town's citizens. More on this fast-breaking story after these words from our sponsors..." Grissom pressed the mute button and said "Looks like they did."
"Okay," said Brass. "I'll find out where they've gone, leave a message asking Buffy to contact us. I'm assuming that we want to keep her on as a consultant."
"I guess so. Maybe there won't be quite as much need with Sunnydale gone, but I'd prefer not to take any chances."
"Agreed. I'll see to it this afternoon."
On the screen, unnoticed, the advertisements ended and the report turned to local news and the escape of murder suspect Patricia Craig, who somehow broke her handcuffs and overcame three guards en route to court.
The End
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