Enemy Incognito

By Wynn

Chapter Twenty-Six: Escape

His breath was hot and moist on her neck. A shiver of disgust ran down her spine. His words echoed in her ears, sparking images of horror and torture to flash into her mind. Faith shivered again. Her body was frozen with indecision. To kill or not to kill? That was the eternal question, the question that haunted her like low-lying fog, slowly sinking through her thoughts, a constant presence in her mind. She didn't want to once again become the out of control, scared little girl, full of bravado and nothing else. She couldn't go down that path again. But then what-

Faith started as she felt Tyler's fingertips brush against her hand, creeping closer to the hilt of the dagger. She blinked once, the doubts and confusion fleeing from her mind, and she smirked, a humorless curving of her full lips. "Nice try." Faith took a step back, lifted her right leg, and kicked Tyler hard in the chest. He sailed across the room, crashing against the wall, a harsh groan and a spray of blood bursting from his mouth as he collapsed onto the jagged pieces of the broken trophy case.

"Nice. Fucking. Try." Pacing like a caged animal, dangerous, unpredictable, her dark eyes glittering with fury, Faith said, "Using your Freudian psychobabble shit to fuck with my head while you slip in and steal the knife right from my hands. Real slick of you. Too bad it didn't work."

Faith crossed the room and lifted Tyler off the ground, throwing him against the wall with one hand, eliciting another pain filled moan from his bloodied mouth. "You know what I hate worse than liars?" she asked, her voice low and soft and deadly. "People who try to play me. People like you who think I'm dumb enough to fall for your manipulative shit." A cruel smile twisted her lips as Faith lifted the dagger and drug the tip across Tyler's face. "It's been a long, long time since I made a man scream using a knife. But it's just like riding a bike… you never really forget."

"Faith, no!"

The next minute was a blur, passing as quickly as lightning, yet lingering as long as eternity in Faith's mind. As her dark eyes flickered from Tyler to the mirror, locking onto the reflected form of Xander beside the entrance to the main room of the dojo, Faith heard the debris shift from the trophy case and felt Tyler's hand lock onto the knife. Before the thought that she was seriously in danger completely formed in her mind, Tyler wrenched her arm, snatched the knife, and forced the blade up to her neck. The tip of the dagger dug into her flesh as Tyler stood and pressed himself against her back, his free hand clamping across Faith's mouth, forcing her to tilt her chin into the air and further expose the smooth expanse of the flesh of her neck.

"Well, well, well," Tyler murmured, his mouth once more pressed against her ear. "Looky here, sweetheart. My knife in my hand pressed against your throat. Isn't this an interesting turn of events?" He tilted his head and looked at Xander. "Thanks, man, for the superb distraction. I couldn't have done this without you."

The color drained from Xander's face, his skin becoming pasty white as he stared at Tyler and Faith. "I didn't-"

"Of course you didn't," Tyler said. "And that's the icing on the cake. Now answer this or hunny here is dead. Are there any other of your little friends hiding around?"

A moment of hesitation hung in the air before Xander opened his mouth and said, "No."

"Now why don't I believe you?" Tyler said. "Maybe 'cause of your not at all subtle hesitation over how to answer my very simple question."

Faith stiffened as the dagger lightly sliced across the tender skin of her throat and a warm rivulet of blood trailed down her neck. She wanted to slap Xander for his idiocy. Did he really believe she was going to torture Tyler in the middle of his shop while they were breaking, entering, and stealing? Sure, she was angry at being so easily manipulated by his calculating words, but Faith was in control of her anger, able to curb the rage induced need to beat the shit out of Tyler, and use her emotions constructively. She knew no amount of polite discussion would prevent Tyler from telling his bosses about their knowledge of the hidden cameras. Only brute force and physical intimidation would have neutralized him long enough for Faith, Anya, and Xander to transport him to the Summers home for questioning and containment. But that was all shot to hell thanks to Xander and his constant suspicion of Faith.

"Whoever's hiding better come out in under five seconds," Tyler said, his gravelly voice echoing throughout the empty dojo, "or she is dead. One-"

Anya appeared directly in front of Faith and Tyler, having teleported into the main room from wherever she had been hiding. Her mouth was a grim, hardened line, and her eyes flashed with rage and worry. "It seems we're at a bit of an impasse," she said, her gaze locked on Tyler. "You're threatening to kill Faith so you can get out of this dojo alive. Yet if you kill Faith in your attempt to escape, you are a dead man because I will hunt you down and kill you. So your only bargaining chip is your death warrant."

"Looks like."

"So the question is what are you going to do now? Increase the probability of the continuation of your sorry existence by releasing Faith, or ensure your slow, painful death by using the knife in your hands? It's your choice."

A minute passed. The air in the dojo was heavy and still. Mind racing on possible ways of escaping Tyler's clutches, Faith drew in a deep breath and tensed, preparing to make some sort of move against him. She froze as Tyler increased his hold over her mouth and jaw.

"I like to play the odds," Tyler said as planted a bloody kiss on Faith's temple and jerked the dagger across her throat.

* * *

"Julia."

"Reese."

"Reese? Now way. Definitely Julia."

Wrinkling her nose, Dawn shook her head at Clem's choice for movie night. With Buffy and Spike in L.A., Giles with Emilia, Willow thankfully elsewhere, and Anya, Faith, and Xander breaking into Buffy's creepy boss's place, Dawn and Clem were home alone, debating which video they would watch. Dawn shifted her sling and pointed to the DVD of Legally Blonde. "Reese. She's wicked funny and has the best clothes."

Clem moved over to the TV and grabbed his copy of Pretty Woman. "Julia. She sings Prince and has the best clothes the early 1990's had to offer. It's a classic."

"Exactly. Classic as in old. Outdated. Reese is it."

Sighing, Clem placed Pretty Woman on the low coffee table. He grabbed a second movie and held it before Dawn. "What about Meg? Sleepless in Seattle?"

Arching one brow, Dawn opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a knock on the front door. She crossed the living room and peeked through the peep hole. Grabbing the door handle, Dawn pulled open the door and smiled broadly at Giles and Emilia. "Hey Giles." Dawn reached past Giles and grabbed Emilia's hand, pulling her through the entrance and into the living room. "I am so glad that you are here. I need some help."

"What is it Dawn?" Giles asked as he closed the door. "Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

"No… well, maybe if Clem gets his way." Dawn sat Emilia on the couch and handed her the Legally Blonde DVD. "I'm trying to bring Clem into the modern age of romantic comedies. He's still stuck in the stone age of the early '90's. Anyway, I vote for Reese for movie night, but Clem insists on Julia or Meg." Shaking her head in disbelief, Dawn looked at Clem, rolling her eyes in mock irritation as he enthusiastically waved Pretty Woman in the air.

Turning back to Emilia, Dawn said, "So we need another opinion, and the concept of a quality romantic comedy is about as foreign to Giles as leather pants."

"Actually-"

"Let me live in the safe land of denial, Emilia. Please." Dawn cast an involuntary sidelong glance at Giles, who coughed slightly as he turned and left the living room. Inwardly grimacing at the mental image of Giles in leather pants, Dawn looked back at Emilia and said, "So… what do you think? Reese or Julia?"

Emilia pursed her lips, her wide violet eyes traveling from Dawn to Clem and back again. "I don't know. I was quite fond of Audrey Hepburn."

"Oh, yeah!" Clem moved to the couch and sat next to Emilia as he said, "Breakfast at Tiffany's is the best."

A wide grin appeared on Emilia's face. "Definitely."

Dawn sighed and slumped into the nearby armchair, blue eyes watching Clem and Emilia discuss the film oeuvre of Audrey Hepburn. Another knock sounded through the house, prompting Dawn to push off the chair and walk to the front door. Her face hardened as she looked through the peep hole. A second knock echoed through the house as Dawn turned away from the door and returned to the living room. Scowling, she plopped into the chair and attempted to cross her arms over her chest, mentally cursing at her stupid sling. Out of the corners of her eyes, Dawn saw Giles move into the room, his gaze flickering from the front door to Dawn.

"Dawn?"

Glancing at Giles, Dawn said, "What?"

"Who is at the door?"

"No one."

A third knock.

Raising one eyebrow, Giles crossed the room and opened the front door. "Ah. Hello, Willow. How are you?"

Willow smiled at Giles, hesitation and nervousness apparent in her vibrant green eyes. Her glossy red hair hung in two braids down her back, and the color of health and vitality had returned to her cheeks. "Hey, Giles. I'm doing good. Can I, um, come in?"

"Oh! Of course. Come in Willow."

Smiling her thanks, Willow entered the Summers home, her eyes darting to Dawn before locking onto Giles.

"Is there something in particular you needed, Willow?" Giles asked.

"Actually, yes. I need to talk with Dawn."

* * *

Spike sighed as the five armed guards fanned throughout Lilah's office, their weapons trained on himself, Buffy, and Angel. He resisted the urge to launch himself over the desk and smack Angel upside the head. It was The Poof's idea to break into Wolfram and Hart, saying the three of them would be in and out of the law firm in five minutes without being detected. Obviously, Angel's assessment of his powers of subterfuge was severely lacking in the accuracy department.

One of the guards stepped towards Buffy, raising the gun and aiming it at her face. "Drop the envelope and put your hands above your head."

Buffy rolled her eyes and dropped the envelope of pictures onto the floor next to Lilah's desk. Her hazel gaze flickered to Spike then to the desk before locking onto the guard standing in front of her.

Spike blinked once. He looked at Angel, catching the brunette's attention, and then focused on the guards before them. Out of the corners of his blue eyes, he saw Angel nod imperceptibly.

"Put your hands above your head," the guard said again, taking another step closer to Buffy.

"I don't think so," she said as she grabbed the brass lamp off Lilah's desk and hurled it at the guard. It smashed against his forehead with a sickening crunch. The guard's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed onto the ground, unconscious, his gun clattering to the ground.

As the unconscious guard tumbled to the floor, Spike and Angel grabbed the oak desk and threw it at three of the guards. The massive desk collided with the three men, knocking them to the ground. Two guards were pinned beneath the heavy desk while the third lay slumped unconscious against the wall. Their weapons had scattered throughout the room upon impact with the desk.

As the desk collided with the three guards, Buffy snatched the weapon out of the last remaining guard's hands and rammed the butt of the gun into his temple. He swayed for a moment before falling to the floor. Buffy tossed the gun across the room and retrieved the discarded envelope of pictures. "Time to go!" she yelled as she sprinted for the door.

The three raced through the door and into the third floor hallway of Wolfram and Hart, Angel in the lead, Buffy in the middle, and Spike bringing up the rear. They rounded the corner and ran for the stairwell. A door smashed open behind them. Spike glanced over his shoulder, and he saw four guards enter the hallway from a room opposite Lilah's office and turn towards them. They too had guns and other weapons strapped to their body.

"We got company," Spike said as Angel burst through the door leading to the stairwell.

"How many?" Angel asked.

"Four."

"Are they armed?"

"Yeah."

Spike moved into the stairwell and slammed the door behind him. He twisted the handle, pulling it off in his hands and tossing it to the floor. As he followed Buffy and Angel down the stairs, he heard the four guards slam against the door and attempt to pry it open. Two gunshots rang through the narrow corridor and the third floor door crashed open. Spike reached the first floor as four sets of boots pounded down the metal stairs. He passed through the threshold and closed the door, once again yanking off the handle in an attempt to slow down their pursuers.

The first floor corridor was dark and deserted. The doors lining both sides of the hallway were closed. The front exit lay at the end of the long hall, the night sky visible through the glass panes. "Why do I get the feeling this is where the trap really kicks in?" Spike asked as he moved down the shadowed passage, keeping close to Buffy, his senses searching for any sign of movement and finding none.

Light flooded the corridor as three doors burst open and guards poured into the hall. A steel gate began to descend from the ceiling over the glass front doors, blocking their exit out of Wolfram and Hart. Spike blinked once, clearing his vision, and looked behind him, eyes widening at the amount of armed goons running towards them. "Shit." He turned and pushed Buffy down the hall. "Go. Now!" He, Buffy, and Angel sprinted for the front doors as the guards behind them opened fire. Chunks of plaster exploded around Spike as bullets slammed into the walls. He saw Angel move into the lobby and reach the set of glass doors, moving underneath the steel gate and halting its descent.

"Come on!" Angel yelled, his muscles straining from the effort to hold up the gate.

Spike sprinted out of the hallway and into the lobby. Buffy ran across the entryway and ducked under the gate, kicking at the glass doors, trying to force them open. The single gunshot blasted through the hall, the echo unnaturally loud in the chaos of their escape from Wolfram and Hart. Spike skidded to a halt as the bullet slammed into his back, between his shoulder blades, and burst through his chest. He glanced down at the widening circle of blood staining his black T-shirt, and he raised one hand and gingerly touched the open wound.

"Spike!"

He looked up at Buffy. She moved away from the doors towards him, eyes wide with shock, fear and worry etched across her face. He fell to his knees as she reached him, blood dripping from the bullet hole on his chest onto the cold tiles of the lobby floor. He met her gaze as he whispered, "Wood… bullet," and collapsed onto the floor.

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