Connor crawled across the rooftop to Spike, then slowly pushed himself to his feet. “Spike,” he said weakly. “Spike, can you walk? We have to go get them.”
“Cool your heals young’en,” Spike said, using his sleeve to wipe the blood from his lip. “Vladimir’s long gone with Dawn. And we’re in no condition to take on two dozen cops by ourselves. We need call Buffy. She’ll know what to do.”
Spike reached and took Connor’s hand, then shouted and released. “What the hell are you? Some kind of fire demon?”
“What? No!”
“Then what’s with the burning touch there?”
Connor looked at his hand, wet from when he wiped his face. “Holy water,” he said, excited at his own cleverness. “They thought I was Angel. That bottle they smashed over me must have been Holy Water!”
“Oh. Fabulous.”
“This gives us an advantage. They think I’m dead.”
“Great. Course, we have to find them before we can use that particular advantage.”
“I can find her. Dawn, I mean. I can follow her . . .”
“Her what?” Spike said. “Her scent?” he said with a laugh.
The two stared at each other uncomfortably for a moment. “It wouldn’t matter if you could,” Spike said, as he too rose from the ground. “In case you haven’t noticed, Vladimir’s not your typical vamp. By now, he’s thrown her in a car or helicopter or whatever and they’re off to god knows where. We call Buffy. Then we find Dawn.”
**
"Hartford," Pyotr said as he put down his cell phone. "She's meeting us half way. Very anxious to get the package."
Vladimir nodded. He turned his head to look at his captive. An almost imperceptible change in her breathing had announced that Dawn had woken up. "There's no use pretending you’re asleep. I can tell you're awake."
Dawn remained still, doing her best not to cry to shiver or move at all. She lay there like a possum playing dead.
Vladimir reached down and gripped Dawn's wounded shoulder and squeezed. A loud shriek and her quick movement to pull away made it unmistakable that she was awake. Vladimir sat on the seat next to her.
"Relax," he said to her. "Pyotr took the bullet out and sewed you up. But if you keep struggling, you'll pull the stitches."
"What do you want with me?" Dawn asked, going back to her watcher's training. Make conversation. Get information.
"Money," Vladimir said coolly.
"I . . . I don't have any. Neither does my family."
"Of course not," Pyotr laughed. "If you did, we would have stolen your money and not you."
"Just be calm," Vladimir said, stroking her hair. "Behave yourself and you'll be fine."
"Would you be offended if I said I didn't believe you?" Dawn said, rolling her eyes.
"Of course not. You would be an idiot if you believed me. I am nevertheless telling you the truth."
The truck pulled into a large airplane hangar just north of Hartford. "Great," Dawn said. "Just what I need. Another warehouse."
The truck's back gate dropped and Vladimir pulled Dawn to her feet. "Let's go." He pulled Dawn with him as he walked out the back of the truck.
In the warehouse, a woman in a hooded black robe stood between two vampires. Not just regular vampires. Large, burly, bodyguard-looking vampires. "We said unharmed," the witch said disapprovingly.
"You said alive," Vladimir answered.
The witch nodded and removed a cell phone. "We have the package.” She nodded again and closed the phone. "It's done.”
"Pyotr," Vladimir called.
In the truck, Pyotr tapped away at a laptop computer. "Done," he shouted back to Vladimir. "We're done."
Vladimir pushed Dawn toward the witch and one of the bodyguards grabbed her. "Give your employer our regards," he said with a smile and a nod. Vladimir backed into the truck and the door came up behind him.
In front of Dawn, the witch lowered her hood and looked at the girl. "Don't worry, Dawn," Amy Madison said with a warm smile. "It's only me."
***
"I told you," Spike yelled into the cell phone. "I thought they were after Faith!"
Connor paced around the seedy motel room as Spike argued on the phone. "Here," he said, grabbing the phone. "Let me."
Spike yanked the phone back. "Don't steal my phone!”
"Just let me talk to her," Connor said holding his hand out. Spike glared at him for a beat, then handed him the phone.
"Hi. Buffy, is it? This is Connor. Angel's so . . . um, friend. Angel's friend. Listen . . ."
"No, you listen," Buffy shouted over the phone. "I'm coming in. Riley Finn will be flying in from South America. You two just sit still. You've already done enough damage."
"Damage?" Connor said, careful to keep his voice calm. "Buffy, I took a knife in the ribs for your sister. Now if you want to come here, fine. We could use the backup. But the longer we wait, the farther away they can get her. So please, just tell us how you think we could find her."
"Well, that's the problem, isn't it? The tracking device in her cell phone went dead and her earrings were apparently chucked in the ocean. Either that, or she's standing about seven feet from where you are now." Buffy was quiet a moment, all of it still sinking in. "Thanks for the effort, Connor. I mean that. I know you didn't have to help. If you want, find out what you can, then meet me and Riley at the airport at 10:35."
"Kennedy or LaGuardia?"
"Willow booked the tickets, so it's Kennedy, of course." Buffy knew Connor would miss the joke, so she just hung up.
Connor lowered the phone slowly and handed it to Spike. "Dawn's tracking devices are dead. Buffy's coming in tomorrow morning . . ." Connor glanced at his watch. "Make that this morning. In seven hours. Bringing some army guy called Riley."
"Ohhh," Spike wined. "Not that poof."
"She wants us to find out what we can."
"That's not a whole lot."
Connor looked at Spike intently. "Vladimir."
"What about him?"
"You know his name."
"Met him before," Spike said, lighting a cigarette. "Old girlfriend and I had a little trouble in Prague. Had to get out of town on the down low. Vladimir and his brother helped us out. Nuff said?"
Connor slammed Spike against the wall. "Did you sell us out?"
Spike was about to throw Connor across the room when he broke out laughing. "Sell you out? Kid, you need more brains and less time in front of the tele. I'm William the Bloody. The Big Bad. Nobody beats me to a pulp on a rooftop and . . "
"And lets you live? They smashed a bottle of holy water over me. Why not you?"
"Maybe because they didn't bring two bottles. Because they didn't expect me to be there!" Spike finally did shove Connor back, but the puny boy didn't go as far as Spike expected. "I know you're new to this little gang, but you have no idea what I would do for Buffy and the little bit. No idea what I have done. But once I find Vladimir, you'll get the picture."
Connor sat on the bed. "So tell me about them. Vladimir and his brother. Where would they be staying? How would they be traveling? Basically, how can we find them?"
Spike nodded. "Right. Well, they smuggled me and Dru out of the country in a freight carrier. But then again, they liked to live in luxury themselves, they did. I remember they had this . . . "
"EPS319," Connor said.
"What?" Spike asked looking up at him.
"The license plate of the car that rammed us in Boston. I can't believe it took me this long to think of that."
"How do you remember all that?"
"Photographic memory." Connor looked around the room. "I'm going to need a computer."
****
"Whenever I get in a bind, I know . . . I know it's wrong . . . but I still think of you."
"Oh, Faith," he sighed sweetly. "It's not wrong. I'll always be here for you. Always."
Faith awoke to the sound of the cell door slamming. She was chained to a chair and a woman with a brief case and a very short skirt entered.
"Faith?" Eve asked as she entered the small, gray room. "I'm Evelyn McNicol, your defense attorney. You can call me Eve."
"And you can call a cab. Cuz I got no defense."
Faith was still comfortably numb from the morphine the doctor's shot her up with when they took the slug out of her ribs and leg. Maybe she was a bit out of it. Maybe she should be more receptive to someone who could dream up any excuse to get her out of jail. When she was in prison, Faith took some solace in the fact that she deserved her punishment. But now she'd breathed free air. Found she could find redemption outside prison walls. She didn't want to go back.
"Actually, I think you do." Eve scooted toward Faith, hoping to whisper conspiratorially. Eve pealed out a photograph. It was Angel. Faith glanced at it, then quickly looked away, hoping Eve wouldn't noticed the look of recognition on her face.
"Cute guy," Faith said. "You going to send him for a conjugal visit? Cuz it's been a while."
"I understand he left something with you. Or someone, rather."
Faith shook her head. "Angel and I never bumped uglies, so he there's no way he 'left someone with me.' And if you want to say he knocked me up, say knocked up. I hate when people talk in code."
"I mean that he left Connor with you.”
Faith continued to look straight ahead, not making eye contact with Eve. "I don't think I need a lawyer, thank you."
Eve slid a picture of Connor in front of Faith. It was him. It was definitely him. But there was a look of animal fear and anger in his usually docile eyes. His face, usually so angelic, looked like that of a stone cold killer. The picture said it all. People wired with explosives. Connor wired with explosives, standing over them. A man cradling his crying daughter.
"He's a terrorist." Eve said.
"No fucking way.”
"The FBI wants him. Badly. They're willing to write off your past transgressions as insanity. Provided you help them find him, of course. You spend a couple years in a psyche ward. Then, provided you've made progress, it's out to halfway house and into the free world.
"This is doctored. I know this kid. He may be a little strange, but he ain't no terrorist."
"You know why you're on the lamb. Why do you think he is?"
Faith thought back to when Angel left Connor with her. "You work for Wolfram & Hart. Don't you?"
Still smiling, Eve pulled the photographs back and placed them in her brief case. "The photographs aren't doctored. I just want you to know what that boy is capable of doing. If you still want to protect him, I can understand that. Honor among thieves is not a foreign concept to me. But Faith, if you don't cooperate, you're not going back to prison. You're going to Death Row."
*****
Connor stepped into the office of the Rent-A-Wreck franchise. He walked to the desk and held up the license plate number he'd jotted down. "One of your cars hit me," he said to the cashier. "I need to know who rented it."
"File a police report," the man said.
"I'd like to just see it, if I could. Make sure that, you know, I got the license right."
"File a police report. Then they can come by."
Connor reached toward the man, but stopped himself. He looked back at Spike, standing behind him, holding a cigarette. "I don't think I can do this part," Connor said shyly.
"No problem, young buck" Spike put the cigarette in his mouth to free up his hands. "I got you covered." Spike quickly reached out and grabbed the clerk, slamming his head down on the counter. "Where's the car, mate?"
"Who the hell are you people?" the clerk cried.
"People who want to know who rented the car and where it is. Look, don't make me take this cigarette out of my mouth. Because that won't make either of us happy."
The clerk pointed to the computer. "The renter's name is in the database." Before the words were out of his mouth, Connor had jumped the counter and was typing at the keys. "The car's out back," the man yelped next.
Spike pulled him up from the counter with one hand and took the cigarette from his mouth with the other. "Let's go for a walk.”
Connor accessed the record in the database via license plate. They paid off the damage to the car in cash.
Spike came back in with the whimpering clerk.
"Alyson Mitchell," Connor called. "Home address is 84 Beacon Street."
"You sodding moron," Spike said to the clerk as he released the man. "That's the address of the Cheer's bar." Spike held up a matchbook. "Found it in the ash tray. They're staying at the Boston Harbor Hotel."
Connor glanced up from the computer and noticed the security camera aimed directly at his face. He spun around and kicked in the door to the back office. Stepping into the office, he pulled VCR unit out of the wall and removed the tape. Connor walked back into the lobby and looked at the clerk. "One last thing. We came here by Greyhound, so I need a car."
"The keys are behind you," the clerk whimpered.
"Thanks, man," Connor smiled.
Spike put on his games face and turned to the man. "Now you do realize if you tell anyone about this, I'm going to have to eat your family. Right?"
******
"Buffy is so going to kick your ass,” Dawn taunted.
"Maybe," Amy said with a shrug. "But you have no idea how powerful I am about to become. So if Buffy wants to kick my ass," Amy looked at her watch. "She'd better hurry up." Amy turned to one of the vamps. "Get her on the plane. No biting. We need her to keep as much blood as possible. At least for now."
Amy turned, her black robe waving out behind her like a cape, and walked onto a small private jet.
"Damn," the vamp holding Dawn said. "She is a tight little package. How're we supposed to take this girl 3,000 miles without having at least a little taste?"
"Do as you're told, Frank," the other answered. "This witch is someone you do not want to mess with." He grabbed Dawn's arm roughly. "Let's go, cup cake," the vamp said, pulling Dawn toward the plane.
The cabin of the plane was dark. All the window shades were pulled down, even though it was still night. Amy sat in a comfortable looking leather chair. She was holding a glass of champagne in her right hand and a copy of Teen People in her left.
"Aren't you a little old for that?" Dawn asked as one of the vamps shoved her down in a seat and handcuffed her to it.
"I was a rat for three years. So I'm still a little behind other kids my age.
*******
"So, I'm like a bad ass criminal now, huh?" Connor laughed as he sped toward Logan International Airport.
"You're getting there," Spike said. "You got a lot of pop for a kid your size. You sure you’re some kind of demon?"
"Just your average human teenager with a few extra powers. Like Clark Kent on Smallville, only smarter."
"Isn't Clark Kent from outer space?"
"Um, yeah," Connor said. "So, I'm like Clark Kent, but smarter and not an alien."
"Can you shoot lasers from your eyes?"
"No.”
"See through walls and shit?"
"Okay. It was a bad analogy."
"You ever sleep with Kristin Kreuk?"
"Can we just drop it?!" Connor snapped.
"Gotta do something to entertain myself.”
Connor pulled the car up outside the hotel and hopped out. Spike came out the other side. "Excuse me, sir," a bell hop called. "You can't park there."
"Fuck off, mate," Spike said, sniffing the air.
"I smell vampires," Connor said. "I'm just not sure it's them."
"It's them," Spike said, looking around. "Smells like they went northish."
Connor nodded, then was hit by realization. "The airport.”
********
Connor was driving hard, passing as many cars as he could on the already crowded East Boston Expressway. Spike looked at the drivers as they passed and he listened on a cell phone. "First International flight is 6 a.m.," Spike said. "We've got an hour to find them."
"At least," Connor said.
"No, they'll be out on a private jet as soon as they can get clearance."
"Isn't that a bit small for Logan?" Connor asked.
"Maybe, but that's the direction they . . ." Spike momentarily caught the gaze of a woman. She glanced at him. She almost looked familiar. More importantly, she looked nervous.
"Get next to the black Durango," Spike said.
"Why? You see them?"
"Gonna find out.” Spike rolled down the window. Connor moved over. The harbor tunnel loomed ahead of them, threatening to end any car chase or attempts at heroics. "Got to make this move soon, son," Spike said.
"Doing my best.”
There was one crowded lane of traffic between their car and the Durango. "That'll do, young pup," Spike said before climbing out the window, jumping the car in the middle lane, and landing on the Durango's roof. The vehicle jetted forward and Spike barely managed to lay flat as they passed the low ceiling of the tunnel.
Connor slammed on the gas and sped after them, all the while wondering if it meant anything at all that they took off. After all, what would he do if some strange guy jumped on his roof?
Connor shot ahead of the other cars and cut over a lane. He saw the Durango beside him. Both he and the woman driving the SUV had their right foot firmly down on the gas pedal. Neither was pulling ahead. Connor glanced ahead. He was gaining on a car in front of him. At the last minute, he jerked into the left lane without looking. Horns blared behind him. The Durango took off ahead. Connor slammed on the gas again. Again he shot past cars in the middle lane. He was gaining on the Durango. The Durango was gaining on the car in front of it. Spike was pounding the roof. Connor pulled even with the Durango. The center lane was open.
Connor spun the wheel as hard as he could and shot into the center lane a split second before the Durango did the same. The large SUV slammed its front bumper into the side door of Connor's compact and pushed it forward. Spike was thrown forward a couple yards. Sparks flew, horns blared, engines roared, and cars crashed. For Connor, all of this was drowned out by the sound of screeching metal.
Finally, the Durango smashed Connor's compact into the wall, wrapping the vehicle around him. Both engines went dead. Connor knocked out the shattered windshield of his car and slid across the hood onto the pavement. Marco was out of the Durango already, but Spike had pounced on him the second the vampire slipped from the SUV. Evanna, the driver, was running hard down the tunnel. She removed a pistol and fired shots randomly behind her. Most vampires couldn't outrun Connor, but that wasn't even an issue. Evanna's speed gave her away as human. Connor took off down the tunnel after her.
"We had a deal," Marco yelled as he threw a punch.
Spike blocked. "That was ten years ago, mate. And vampire loyalties don't come with a warranty."
"We already delivered the girl," Marco yelled, slamming Spike against the SUV. "The money's gone. You can't have it"
"Not after the money, you ponce," Spike said, punching Marco in the gut.
A man trapped behind the wreckage was shouting about calling the cops. Spike ducked a punch by dropping to the ground. He rolled under a car and came up on the other side. Marco ran after Connor and Evanna. Spike climbed the roof, leapt, and landed on Marco, tackling him to the ground.
Marco pulled a stake from his belt and jabbed it at Spike's heart. Spike grabbed Marco's wrist and pushed it back. The two struggled, each trying to push the stake away from himself. "Where's the little bit," Spike yelled.
"Who?" Marco asked, confused.
"Dawn. Young pretty thing you grabbed from a rooftop earlier tonight."
"We gave her to the witch," Marco grunted as he pushed the stake up. "We gave her to your master!"
"My master?"
"We gave her to the Risen One's witch."
"Who the bloody hell is the Risen One?"
Marco looked bewildered. "You really don't know, do you?" He laughed.
"Where is this Risen One now, mate?"
"You should know," Marco smiled. "We sent you to him."
"What?"
"I got her, Spike," Connor called from behind. "Shit!" he yelled suddenly.
Spike turned to see the girl foaming at the mouth. Connor had her jaw pulled open while his free hand fished through her mouth. But it was too late. She was dead. Spike turned nervously to Marco who had already turned the stake back toward himself. He plunged the stake into his own heart. As Spike stood helplessly over him, Marco turned to dust.
Connor looked up from Evanna's dead body and shook his head no. Spike ran to Connor and pulled the boy off the ground. "We have to go," Spike said as the all too familiar sound of sirens could now be heard echoing in the tunnel.
*********
Dawn couldn't tell how long the plane had been in the air.
"God," Amy sighed. "Isn't Orlando Bloom dreamy? You think if I did a love spell on him, he'd go out with me?"
Dawn shook her head. "Those never work. Remember what happened with Xander?"
"Yeah," Amy said, rubbing her jaw. "Ooh, maybe I could put an ugly hex on Kate Bosworth!"
"That could work," Dawn said, nodding. Again, the Watcher training was guiding Dawn. Do whatever you must. Say whatever you can. To get their trust. To get information. To just stay alive. "I was working with Will . . . ocks. Warlocks. On a wart spell."
Amy smiled. "It's okay. You can say her name. My shaman says I need to get over my Willow obsession."
"You two used to be such friends. You and Will. And even Buffy. You were the only one of Buffy's friends, besides Xander, anyway, who treated me like a grown up. Talked to me like I was a grown up." Dawn pulled gently on her handcuff. "Even kidnapped me like I was a grown up."
Amy laughed. “Hey, any time.”
"Amy," Dawn said cautiously, hoping it wasn't too early to push her. "Who is your employer?"
"Who says I have an employer?"
"Vladimir.”
"Oh. That was a joke."
Dawn could see in Amy's eyes that the witch was lying. Having a boss upset Amy. She felt humiliated. Dawn was sure of it.
"No," Dawn said. "I don't think it was. He kept talking about it with that other guy. Peter? Piter?"
"Pyotr?"
"Yeah, that's it.”
"You need to shut up, now little girl,” the vampire Frank said.
"No," Amy said, leaning forward. "Let her finish."
"He just said that you were . . . never mind. I don't want to say. It's just too rude."
"Finish," Amy said, her eyes momentarily growing black.
Dawn sighed, and blurted quickly. "He said you were a puppet in a black cape."
"What?!" Amy shouted. Her eyes went full black and her fingers sparked.
"He was just a big blow hard, Amy. I don't think that you're really a . . . what was it? Weak magician or a . . . a . . . a marionette held up solely by the invisible strings of a superior wizard. And I know you never admired David Copperf . . ."
Woosh! A blast of fire shot from Amy's hands, lighting the plane's carpet on fire. Frank ran forward with a fire blanket. The other vamp, the one who cuffed Dawn to the chair, ran after Frank, but Dawn stuck her foot out, tripping him. He fell to the floor. Dawn stepped on his back. With her free hand, she pulled the keys from his pocket.
The vamp bucked hard, throwing Dawn from his back. She came down at an unnatural angle for the arm still cuffed to her seat. A loud crack and piercing shriek announced the braking of her wrist. Still, Dawn scooped the loose keys from the floor and jammed them into the cuffs. She pulled her freed but broken wrist away from the chair, just as the vamp scooped her up and tossed her to the back of the plane. Dawn hit the back door and slid to the ground, holding her aching hand.
Frank had now extinguished the fire and was looking to snuff out Dawn next. Dawn looked at the back door and whispered "Erumpo." Nothing happened. "Erumpo!" she screamed. Frank was within arm's reach. Dawn grabbed the handle. "ERUMPO!"
At first Dawn thought her spell had worked, but in fact it had been another fire bolt from Amy that had blasted the door away. Dawn rolled through the door and scrambled for the parachutes. Dawn grabbed a parachute as Frank grabbed her. She turned and swung the chute, slamming Frank in the face. She pulled the chord, and the chute shot out, tangling the other vamp, who'd just entered. Dawn shot back from the force of the chute opening.
"I will feed him to beasts he could not imagine," Amy was shouting in an inhuman voice.
Dawn pulled on another chute, wincing as the strap slipped over her wounded shoulder. She jumped the two tangled vamps and charged for the front of the plane, running past Amy, still caught in her fury. Dawn gripped the handle to the door of the plane. She tried turning it, but her one arm was not stronger and her other was damaged and useless. She repositioned herself, using what little body weight she had to push the handle.
Amy's eyes went from black back to green. "Dawn," she shouted. "Wait!"
"I'm sorry, Amy," Dawn wept with deep sincerity and equally deep desperation. She twisted the handle and pushed the door back.
Dawn thought she was dead. She thought Amy had blasted her to nothing with one last spell. Nothing in Dawn's life had come close to the feeling of being sucked into the sky by a violent gust of air from a pressurized airplane.
Daybreak was chasing them from the east, but had yet to overtake them. Dawn gripped the rip chord. She prayed that, once on the ground, Amy’s henchman vampires wouldn't find her before sunrise. She prayed that the depressurized plane falling from the heavens above would not knock her out of the sky. She prayed that the chute was on tightly enough, that it would open, that she would know how to open it. In short, Dawn Summers prayed she would live.
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