“Prisoner 123080, on the move.”
“Wow,” Faith laughed at the troop of five guards transporting her the sixty feet from her hospital bed to the cell where she would meet with her lawyer. “This is quite an entourage. I’m like a celebrity.”
“Never heard of a con busting out by crashing through plexi glass,” one of the guards said as he opened the door into the meeting cell. “Made you kind of famous.”
Faith entered the cell and sat across from Eve. The guards closed the door and left.
“Are you okay?” Eve asked.
“Five by five,” Faith said with a sarcastic edge, as if mocking herself.
“Wounds healing?”
Faith nodded. “So I talked to the guards. They say there’s no immunity deal for me.”
“And you think prison guards are generally privy to offers from the federal government?”
“Why does Wolfram & Hart want Connor?”
Eve shrugged. “As a client, perhaps. I wouldn’t know. I do know that FBI wants him for murder, conspiracy, and weapons charges. I know he may seem charming, but then again, most terrorists do.”
Faith shook her head. “The guy that introduced me to Connor-”
“Angel,” Eve clarified, wanting Faith to know she was aware of the connection.
“Angel. Right. I know him. He’s not the harboring terrorists type.”
“He was willing to protect you when you were wanted for murder. Maybe Angel thinks young Connor can be redeemed. But he’s reaching this time.” Eve wondered for a minute whether or not to keep pushing or to let things rest for today.
“Why do you think those Russians were after him?” Eve asked.
“Because they were vampires.”
Eve smiled. “Keep that up. It’ll help with the insanity plea.”
Faith sat back. She wasn’t comfortable calling herself crazy. But she had to admit, she was frightened. Every night, she patrolled knowing that it could be her last. There were even a few times a demon got the upper hand on her and she thought it was all over. And she’d never been scared. Not once. But when the guard mentioned lethal injection or the chair, it spooked Faith in a serious way. There was something so foreboding about dying strapped to a chair in a tiny room while people watched. Death as spectacle. Death outside the field of battle. Death at the hands of the state instead of the proper death of a warrior on the field of battle. Perhaps, for Faith, her death would be the final verdict on her life. If she could die in battle at the hands of a demon, then she really was a warrior for good. If she died in a chair at the hands of the state, then she was ALWAYS JUST a criminal. the prospect of dying a criminal was terrifying to her.
“Tell me what he did?” Faith asked. “Specifics.”
She was reaching and she knew it. Her gut said that Connor was on the level and Eve was full of shit. Her gut didn’t usually lie. But beneath her hard exteriors, Faith was squirming to get out of this.
“He took a sporting goods store full of people in Los Angeles hostage and threatened to blow them up.”
“Didn’t see anything about it on the news.”
“You watch the news?”
Faith laughed and shrugged. “Yeah. Especially in L.A. Try to see how close they are to nabbing me.”
“Where’s Spike?”
Faith laughed again. “What am I, stupid? You ask where Connor is, I stonewall, and then you ask where Spike is. Like it’s not the same question. Hit the buzzer for the guard. We’re done here.”
Eve stood and hit the buzzer, indicating the session was over. “You really would give up your life to protect this kid.”
Faith didn’t say anything. She looked forward as if she were alone.
Eve looked around the room and frowned. “You don’t deserve this.” The door opened and eve stepped into the hallway. The lawyer felt the uncomfortable pang of conscience. Faith’s devotion to Connor reminded Eve of her own loyalty to Lindsey. But the thought of Lindsey brought everything back into perspective for Eve. Eve needed Connor. She needed him so that she cold return to the good graces of the senior partners. And she needed him so that she could avenge what Angel had done to Lindsey.
**
“Buffy? I called your phone and Connor gave me this number.”
The slayer’s heart shot into her chest. “Dawn! Where are you?”
“I’m in Kansas. Topeka. The plane crashed. I don’t know what to do.”
“Dawn, call the police. They can keep you safe until I get there.”
“Buffy, I can’t. I . . . Amy Madison. She took me, Buffy. I . . . I killed her.”
Buffy’s blood ran cold. A totally new fear emerged for her sister. “It was self defense, Dawn. The best thing you can do at this point is show you have nothing to hide and call the police. I’ll be on the next plane.”
Dawn was still choking back tears. “Okay. I’m . . . I’m going to hang up. Please come get me.”
“I’m on my way.” Buffy hung the phone up and walked to Robin Wood. The high school principal turned watcher was now working with Rona, the slayer currently assigned to New York City. “I need to get a flight to Kansas.”
“Kansas?” Wood said. “How the hell’d she get to Kansas?”
“I’ll find out when I get there.”
“Rona,” Wood said, turning to look at the slayer currently occupying the computer. “Go to Expedia. Book Buffy into Wichita or Kansas City.”
“Buffy and Riley,” Buffy called. “I want him with me on this one.”
Riley closed his laptop and walked to Buffy. “Our guy didn’t pick the most original name. In North America alone, I’ve got records of over 31 demons referring to themselves as either ‘The Risen One’ or simply ‘The Risen.’ That covers Native American demonology of which we know, but not South America or Europe. Xander’s following up on those.”
“Guess he’ll be disappointed when he finds out he’s got a common moniker,” Wood said. “Demons who call themselves ‘The’ anything usually like to think they’re unique.”
“Thus the ‘The’,” Buffy said.
“Maybe,” Riley said. “On the other hand, choosing a common name like ‘The Risen One’ may be a clever way to shield his identity.”
“You want cheapest or first available?” Rona called from the computer.
“First available,” Buffy called back. She looked back at Riley. “I don’t think so. Most demons are pretty arrogant. They like to think they’re the biggest and baddest of the big bads.”
“But in this case, we’re dealing with vamps that carry firearms.”
“Or hired them,” Buffy answered quickly.
“Either way, he’s unconventional and perhaps more military or strategic in his thinking.”
“What does this guy want with Dawn?” Wood asked. “Is it just a trap for Buffy?”
“I doubt it,” Riley said. “If they wanted Buffy, they probably would have launched an assault on her directly when she was unprepared.”
Buffy made a disapproving sound.
“Well, less prepared then you are when you know paramilitary vamps kidnapped your sister.”
Buffy nodded. “Agreed.”
Rona walked up. “So, is booking tickets the hardest thing I’m going to have to do today? You leave from Kennedy in an hour.”
“We better go,” Riley said.
Buffy looked at Wood. “Can you and Rona pick up on Riley’s research? I’m going to need him to acquaint himself with the Markovic brothers. They’re the most immediate threat.”
Wood nodded. “We’ll handle it. But Riley’s right. You better go.”
***
“You okay in there,” Connor said with a grin as he pulled the coffin from the bed of the pickup truck.
“I can’t believe this,” Spike shouted from inside. “I spend half my unlife railing against people’s misconceptions about vampires, and here I am being all stereotypical.”
“When did you ever care what people thought about vampires?”
“Well, I might not have actually said or done anything, but it always bothered me. Besides, this thing is cramped.”
Connor laughed. “It’s only a few hours. I’ll pick you up once we’ve both landed in L.A. Until then, read your magazines.”
“Brittany’s getting married again! It’ll never last luv. You and Justin were meant for each other.”
“You girl,” Connor mocked as he loaded the coffin onto a gurney. “And keep your voice down. If you hate being the stereotypical vamp, the last thing we need is you making noises, someone opening the coffin, and you popping out yelling, ‘I vant to suck your blood.’”
“I never said that. Well, except this one time with my ex-girlfriend Harmony. We were role-playing. She was Buffy and I was Dracula . . .”
“I so don’t want to hear this,” Connor groaned, pushing the gurney toward the plane. “Besides the courier’s here, so keep it down.”
“Um, sir,” the approaching courier said. “I actually work for the council. I know what the cargo is.”
Connor held his finger over his mouth. “You want him to start talking again?”
The courier smiled and handed Connor a claim slip. “I’ll take it from here. When you land in L.A., go to our warehouse and you can pick-up your . . . nephew?”
Connor smiled at his inside joke with himself.
****
“All rise,” the Bailiff called. “This court is now in session. The honorable Harold T. Stone presiding.” The judge sat. “You may now be seated. First case . . .”
“This is us,” Eve said, helping Faith to her feet.
Faith pulled free, walking to the front on her own. Eve got on her nerves, but Faith also knew that she was perhaps the only chance of staying off death row.
“Eve McNicol for the defense, your honor. We’re pleading innocent by means of insanity. I’m asking that charges be dismissed and my client be lodged in a mental facility until she be deemed mentally competent.”
“Counsel, this is the arraignment, not opening arguments,” the judge said lackadaisically.
“Yes, your honor. But this is relevant in that I’m asking that my client be housed in a mental health facility pending trial.”
“Your honor,” the prosecutor called. “The defendant is a convicted murderer who escaped from a maximum security prison. Why the sudden need for a mental hospital now?”
“I will be exploring issues relating to her initial trial on the appeal of those charges, your honor. For the time being, I am only seeking the most beneficial atmosphere for my client and her mental faculties.”
The judge looked at Faith. “I’m inclined to agree with defense counsel. A maximum security mental facility should provide society the same protection a prison would.”
“But your honor,” the prosecutor argued. “Housing the defendant in a mental facility could create a prejudice in within jury members that the defendant is not competent to stand trial.”
“And placing her in a prison could create the same prejudice against recognizing her mental condition,” Eve retorted.
“Her physical location during the trial should not be a factor in the trial itself,” the judge said. “I’m granting the defense’s request.”
“That’s just great,” Faith said as she walked with Eve and her security detail back to the transport van. “Now I spend my life in the nuthouse instead of jail.”
“Faith, you need to trust me. That nuthouse is your portal to freedom.”
“Or electroshock,” Faith groaned.
*****
The trip from Wichita to Topeka took about two hours. It was night now. Buffy bounded up the stairs of St. Francis Hospital while Riley took the elevator. Buffy had to stop herself from grabbing Dawn and hugging her flat.
The sight of her sister was a bittersweet one. She was happy Dawn was alive and more or less well. She was sad that Dawn was bruised and sporting a bandage on her arm and a splint on her wrist. Buffy was angry that someone had kidnapped her sister. But standing there, the strongest emotion Buffy felt was pride. Dawn had been held captive by a witch and two vampires and yet still managed to escape. She wasn’t the pesky brat of yesteryears. For the first time, Buffy thought Giles recommendation that Dawn be trained as a watcher was a good one.
“There’s going to be an inquest,” Dawn said, not making eye contact with Buffy. “But the trooper said it was just a formality. There was a witness who saw it. They’re still not quite sure how Amy managed the fireballs.”
Dawn sniffled, then began to cry. “I . . . I killed her.”
Buffy say next to Dawn and held her, stroking her hair. “This isn’t fair. We lead this life where our mistakes and our duties and our simple everyday actions cost people their lives. But you were in a situation where you could live or you could die. And you did what you had to do in order to survive. There’s nothing wrong with that. I understand that. The other watchers understand that. Hell, even the Kansas State Police understand it. And if you decide to stay in this life, then this won’t be the last time.”
Dawn nodded. Buffy kissed her forehead.
“Get some sleep,” Buffy whispered. “I’ll be right outside.”
“Don’t go,” Dawn whimpered.
“You need to get some sleep and I need to talk to Riley. But first thing in the morning, we’ll get you released and back to L.A.”
“L.A.?” Dawn asked.
“The police took Faith into custody and sent her back to L.A. Riley tried to pull some strings to get her out, but nothing doing. He had a hard enough time getting Connor and Spike clear of a mess they got themselves into.” Buffy smiled. “See how important you are? Gone two days and the whole operation goes to hell.”
Dawn smiled.
“Now get some sleep,” Buffy said.
Buffy stepped outside and sat next to Riley, laying her heads on his shoulder. “You, me, and Dawn in the hospital. Like old times, huh?”
Riley moved away uncomfortably. “We got an ID on the girl who took the cyanide capsule in the tunnel. Evanna Federov.”
“Another Russian name,” Buffy said.
“Better. My contact in the Czech Republic said her mother’s maiden name was Markovic.”
“Like the vamps we’re chasing. They’re keeping it in the family. So what?”
“Vampires don’t have records. They don’t file taxes or get driver’s licenses or order videos from Netflix.”
“But humans do,” Buffy said with a smile. “Let Giles know what’s going on. Then try to find an address for this girl.”
“That’s the plan.”
Buffy ran her hand over Riley’s arm. Riley smiled for a moment, then pulled his arm away. “I’ll call Giles.”
Buffy stood. “Dawn should be asleep by now. I’ll be in with her.”
******
Connor and Spike were crouched low in the alley. “My guy says this is the route,” Spike said, pulling out a cigarette. “’Bout another ten minutes.”
Connor grabbed the cigarette. “No lights. They might see it.”
“When’d you become secret agent guy?”
“I just a fast learn . . . shit.”
“What?”
Connor pointed to the road. “There’re three trucks. We don’t even know which one she’s in.”
“Looks like we’re calling it off.”
The vans drove by, followed by a Mercedes being driven by . . .
“Eve,” Spike said.
“What?” Connor turned to Spike urgently. He’d never met Eve, nor did he know what she looked like. What he did know, what Angel had told him, was that Eve was the one person on this planet, besides Angel and himself, that knew who Connor really was.
“Eve,” Spike said. “Our old liaison from Wolfram & Hart. What’s she doing here?”
“Maybe trying to nab Faith for herself. Whatever she wants, we need to . . . get the car.” Connor looked at Spike worriedly. “Looks like we’re doing this tonight after all.”
*******
“Clear night,” Spike said as Connor screeched the car to a halt in an alleyway. “What I wouldn’t give for some rain.”
“Don’t worry,” Connor said, grabbing a gas can from the trunk of the car. “We’ll have very heavy fog.”
Connor walked toward a newspaper recycling bin and poured the gasoline in it. “Dump this out on the road and spread it around. Quickly. Even if they’re only doing the speed limit, they’ll still be on top of us in less than two minutes.”
Spike dumped the newspapers on the street. Connor pushed two large dumpsters behind the line of newspaper. “Light it,” Connor said. “Then back to the car.”
Spike lit the newspaper pile on fire. Connor rolled the car through the alley and back to a street perpendicular to the one toward the mental hospital.
“Riley’s going to throw a fit,” Spike moaned.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Connor smiled. “I stole the car from long term parking in the airport. Just got put there today.”
Spike looked at Connor grinning. “I’ve got a whole new respect for you, lad.”
Three prison transports rolled by and Connor slammed on the gas. The car jetted into the street, blocking Eve from the convoy. Connor and Spike jumped from the car.
The air was filled with black ash and a loud crash announced that the front van had collided with the dumpsters in the road.
“Take the back one, I’ll take the middle,” Connor yelled, running for the middle transport. A guard from the back van hit the ground just in time to catch a fist from Connor.
“Backup! Backup!” a driver called. “We are three miles south of destination and we are under assault!”
Eve climbed from her car and ran toward Connor.
Spike ripped open the back doors of the last van and immediately took two shotgun blasts to the gut. He fell from the back and slammed the doors closed on the guard inside. “No Faith here!”
“Here neither,” Connor shouted, wrestling a shotgun from one guard, while he kicked another to the ground.
“I’ve got the third,” Spike yelled, turning to run for the third van. Hearing approaching footsteps behind him, Spike turned to see Eve. Reflexively, he elbowed her in the face, knocking her down. “Sorry, luv. This is a private party.”
Connor ripped a shotgun away from a guard. He subdued the two guards in the back of the second van, then dropped to the ground. Another guard jumped from the van’s cab, but Connor nailed him with the butt of the shotgun, knocking him out.
The front van had finally backed up and was trying to creep past the dumpsters obstructing the road. Connor fired the shotgun, blasting the lock from the van. The doors swung open to reveal two guards sitting in front of Faith, locked in a metal mesh cage.
Connor fired again, blowing out the back right tire. Connor thought he was home free; or rather that Faith was home free. That was before two police cruisers pulled in front of him. Connor leapt, jumping the cruisers and continuing toward Faith, only to be cut off by two more. Gunfire broke out. Connor ducked, but a pair of hands gripped him firmly and kept him on his feet.
“Arghh,” Spike yelled as he caught the bullets from the policemen behind him. “Come on, kid,” he yelled, pushing Connor toward an alley. “Stay in front of me. I can block the bullets.”
“But Faith!” Connor protested.
“Tomorrow, maybe. Tonight, she’s gone.”
Three more shots ripped into Spike’s back before they made it into the alley.
“They’ll have the streets blocked,” Connor yelled, grabbing Spike’s arm before he went any further.
Spike ripped off a manhole cover and jumped into the sewer. “Looks like we’re underground.”
Connor jumped down behind him, pulling the cover over the hole again. The two ran as hard as they could.
********
Dawn’s eyes sprang open as the building shook slightly and pandemonium broke loose in the hallway. People were yelling frantically and running up and down the hall. Years of living in southern California made Dawn think it was an earthquake. But as the fog of sleep lifted, she remembered she was in Kansas. Hardly earthquake country. She wondered if maybe it was a tornado. But before she could rise, a hand slapped over her mouth.
“Shh,” Buffy’s voice whispered as the hand moved away.
“What’s happening?” Dawn whispered back.
“The power got cut.” It was Riley now. “That bang that woke you was someone blowing the emergency generator.”
“Why?” Dawn whispered.
“First step in hitting a building,” Riley replied. “Knock out the power.”
Buffy was pushing on the window, trying to open it. She turned and shook her head. “We’re not getting the window.”
“We should try to make the roof or the lobby,” Riley said, removing a pistol.
“Stay between me and Riley,” Buffy said, helping Dawn to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Riley opened the door and peaked into the dark hallway. Two shadowy figures moved authoritatively and purposefully through the throng of panicked nurses, orderlies, families and patients.
“They’re here,” Riley said. “I’ll cover you. Run when I open fire.”
Riley started firing and Buffy prepared to spring from the room. Riley’s arm flew out and stopped her. The two figures made no attempt to take cover, but merely returned fire, still walking confidently through the middle of the hall, even as the crowds screamed louder and hit the floor.
“They’re wearing body armor,” Riley said. “Even the legs.” Riley turned and fired at the window, merely causing dents. “It’s the only way out.”
The armed and armored vampires were now trotting down the hall. Buffy slammed at the window harder now, hoping the gunfire loosened it. The footfalls were too close now.
“Dawn, get ready to run,” Buffy said. “Looks like we’re fighting our way out after all.”
Buffy and Riley took positions by the door. It swung open and they pounced as a canister rolled into the room, filling it with smoke. Riley grabbed the rifle of one vamp, but was quickly thrown to the ground.
Buffy kicked the other, knocking it into the vamp that had just throttled Riley. “Dawn, run!”
Dawn sprung from the room hard, still coughing from the smoke grenade. She turned back to see Buffy. Just then, the butt of a rifle shot out and hit her in the head. Dawn hit the floor with a scream. Riley was wrestling one of the vamps down while the other ran away. Buffy was on her feet, but only for the briefest of moments before automatic gunfire rung out, tearing into her legs and driving her back to the ground.
Riley released the vamp he was grappling with, and the vamp ran off. Riley grabbed Buffy and slid her back into the room, even as the slayer struggled to run to her sister.
Vladimir, now clutching the squirming girl while Pyotr covered his escape, ran into the stairwell and headed for the roof. Pyotr then hit the stairwell and headed down.
Outside, Pyotr looked up as a helicopter took off from the roof. Running for a van, he pulled a cell phone and dialed. “I need to leave a message for Mr. Rayne. Tell him we have the package he requested.”
The phone flew from his hand as Riley tackled Pyotr from behind. He tore Pyotr’s headgear off and punched him hard in the face. The vampire kicked free and jumped to his feet, continuing toward the van, even as it began to slowly drive away. Riley removed his pistol and fired a shot into the back of Pyotr’s head, but the vamp merely stumbled and continued running. The side of the door opened and Pyotr dove in. Then, the van jetted away.
Riley grabbed Pyotr’s dropped cell phone and ran back into the hospital. He returned to the hospital room, but before entering noticed a trail of blood leading from the room and around a corner. Riley ran, following it, until he found Buffy on the floor, crying as she reached for the button for the elevator. Riley ran and squatted next to her.
“They’re gone,” he said sadly.
“No!” Buffy yelled.
“They’re gone.” Riley gripped Buffy’s hands and held them toward him. “They’re gone.”
Trivia
Faith's prisoner number, 123080, is Eliza Dushku's birthday (12-30-1980). The judge, Harold T. Stone, was named after the judge on Night Court.
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