by Rob Sorenson

Xander couldn't feel his arms. Hands suspended in mid-air had stunted circulation. He hadn't been given any food or water in the two days he'd been held prisoner, and his throat was desert-dry. Strangely, the hunger he'd felt over the first 36 hours of his imprisonment had gone, replaced by an odd sense of giddiness.

He'd been looked in on by three different men, one of whom was the man he'd christened Jeeves shortly after his abduction.

The second had been the man Travers had introduced as his assistant, Pierre. Small and wiry, with horn rimmed glasses encasing cold, calculating eyes, Xander could understand why he was a trusted minion of the head Watcher.

Lastly there had been Travers himself, though he hadn't seen him since the transmission of the message to the Scooby Gang. It gave him hope when he felt Buffy's surge of affection for him once she saw him on screen. She was here. She was coming for him.

He'd never doubted it for a second, of course...but it was still nice to feel her powerful presence within him.

Xander had been in and out of a fitful doze since that woman who looked and smelled just like Faith had backhanded him. He imagined he had a mild concussion, and the jagged hole where his tooth had once been stung like Hell, but these were the least of his worries. He was nearly consumed with fear for the three women who collectively made up his reason for living.

He was in the midst of one of his woozy napping periods when Jeeves entered the room. "Come on, Harris. Travers wants to see you."

**********************************************************************

Quentin Travers was in a huge conference room, in an easy chair facing three large screen televisions. He gave an indulgent chuckle as Xander Harris was half dragged into the room.

"Having difficulty walking, boy? I can only imagine. Our Faith gave you quite a blow."

Xander's voice had the texture of sandpaper. "That wasn't Faith."

"Of course it was. It was her in every detail. Still, this is a debate for another time, and frankly I'd prefer to do it with someone who has an education beyond the fifth-grade level."

Xander had been taking verbal and physical blows his whole life. Quentin Travers was about as intimidating as Elmo on Sesame Street compared to his father. Therefore he kept his face expressionless at the insult with little difficulty as the scarred Watcher continued.

"I brought you here to inform you that what we're doing is not personal. We have a war to fight, and the current situation is dangerous and unacceptable."

"Seems to me that you're creating the danger you're supposed to be preventing. News flash, numbnuts: you're attacking the world's protectors."

Travers shrugged. "Another argument I don't wish to indulge in. In case you didn't know, it's been nearly twenty four hours since we last saw one another. The time for the confrontation between your group and mine is at hand." He gestured at the three sets. "I have visual contact with all three fields of battle, though it will be difficult to see Battery Park. The other two have ample monitors for me to watch the proceedings. Still, I have sensors that were imbedded within the clones' brains as infants. If they cease to function, we will know immediately.

Outside this stadium I have stationed 10 members of our special Council Assault Team as a delay tactic if one of the Slayers attempts to breach our position. If any member of your group attempts to get past them while anyone remains fighting you will be killed immediately. If they do not attempt to save you it will extend your life. However, if my clones do not fully succeed, you will be killed at that time. Your death will wound the group deeply, and make them vulnerable to me in the future.

In other words, your only hope of survival depends on the death of all three of your friends.

Whatever the case, I win. I win because I have what it takes to make the difficult decisions. That's the problem with your group: there simply isn't enough ruthlessness in Buffy Summers to be adequate. She's lived far longer than tools are supposed to."

Xander's eyes flashed. "She's not a tool, you son of a bitch. She's a person. A better person than any of you wannabes, with or without Slayer powers."

Travers laughed out loud and shook his head. "I cannot help myself. I like you, boy. It's why I brought you in here. You are owed a certain amount of respect. I don't feel good about what we're going to do to you tonight. You are a mere human of less than average intelligence, after all. Your courage is to be admired. Whatever happens tonight, understand that it's for the greater good. Take him back to his room, Pierre."

Xander had found the strength to walk back to his cell under his own power, frightened out of his mind.

************************************************************************

The Cary Grant Suite was eerily quiet as the group stood in the living room. Each had prepared for the coming battle in their own way. Buffy had done stretching exercises

and splashed water on her face. Faith had shadow boxed on the balcony. Spike had raided the honor bar and downed two shots of Crown Royal. Willow and Dawn had spent hours in the lotus position, meditating in quiet reflection.

Finally, the time had come for all to make their way to their respective battlegrounds. It was 2:30 in the morning. Time to find out yet again who ruled the night.

Buffy looked at them all with unhidden affection as she began to speak.

"I've been thinking about Travers's strategy all day long. I think I know why they seperated us tonight. They know if we're together no one can stop us. They can hurt us, but they will never stop us.

So they broke us up. I guess they figured we'd fall apart. You know what? The bad guys underestimated us again. We're infinitely stronger when we're all together, but we're pretty damned good on our own, too.

Plus, we've all got an edge. Willow's got Dawn, Faith has Spike.....and I have Xander. In here." She pointed to her head. "His spirit is literally with me." She decided to leave out the fact that all she'd sensed from him in the last 15 minutes had been stark fear.

"So here's the plan. We go where they tell us, kick ass, get Xander, and go to see the Rockettes tomorrow night. Questions? Comments?"

No one moved or spoke. She nodded approvingly. "Cool. One last thing. Nobody I love is going to die tonight. Is that clear?"

Spike smiled at her, and she returned it as she finished. "Good. Let's go get our Xander back."

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25 minutes later, Spike and Faith were standing outside Madison Square Garden, waiting to enter at exactly 3 am as instructed. William turned to her and spoke for the first time since they'd left the suite.

"That speech was actually pretty good, wasn't it?"

"It didn't suck."

"Right. For Buffy, that's a big step forward." Faith shook her head and chuckled.

"What is it with you making people laugh when we should be nervous or upset?"

"I learned it from a mutual friend of ours."

Faith was silent for a moment. "How long will it take to get to Yankee Stadium from here?"

"This time of night? Half an hour, maybe. As the bat flies, Buffy is actually the closest to the Bronx."

Willow and Dawn had done the locator spell first thing in the previous morning so both would have as much power as they could for what was about to occur in Battery Park.

"Half an hour by cab?"

"Right. Subway runs less frequently this time of night, too."

"What if I ran?"

"Who in the bleeding Hell would be able to do that?"

Faith just looked at him.

"Right. I suppose with Slayer speed you could make it a little faster. In terms of mileage Manhattan really isn't very long, just packed in like sardines."

"I guess I'll play it by ear. Where are you going to hide?"

"I'll be in the rafters. It'll make my duster billow out all sexy like when I come swooping down."

"Whatever." She took a deep breath. "You ready?"

"As ever was."

They entered the building and Spike disappeared quickly into the shadows.

***********************************************************************

"Willow?"

"Yes?"

"The speech was actually decent."

The redhead thought for a moment and nodded in agreement. "I agree. She's been putting a much more positive spin on everything lately. The "don't die" order was a nice touch."

"Definitely on board with my sister being more positive. Last year she was SO doom and gloom all the time."

"Yes, well, the First has a way of affecting one's outlook."

"That bastard messed up her email, too? No wonder she was so cranky." Willow just shook her head as Dawn continued. "Ok, what's the plan Wills?"

"I fight. You watch."

Dawn bristled. "Willow, I can help and you know it."

"Buffy wants you here because she doesn't trust me." She held up a hand to silence Dawn's protest. "I'm not saying I blame her. It's just that....I'm not sure how you can stop me if I lose it."

"I'll find a way."

"Let's hope you don't have to. I'd rather you do nothing."

"I'm not a child any more."

"Don't get all Faithy on me. I'm not calling you weak. I'm calling you incapable of surviving at the magical level that's coming. The fact that you're an adult is the very reason I'm telling you like this. Last year I would've used a binding spell to keep you safe. This year, you're a last resort. That's a step up."

Dawn fought off a protest. Willow was right. She decided to change the subject.

"The Statue of Liberty is beautiful at night."

"It's not too shabby in the daytime, either, or so I've heard."

"Promise you'll take me there before we leave New York?"

Willow smiled at her. "We'll make a day of it. My great grandparents came though Ellis Island. I've always wanted to see it."

They stopped and looked around. The park was deserted. Dawn raised an eyebrow,

"So....are we not on time? Maybe they chickened out."

Willow replied in a deep, husky voice. "I don't think so."

Dawn knew that tone all too well. Willow's black pupils glittered in the moonlight as they exchanged glances.

"Dawn, get behind that tree and stay there. Someone's--"

Willow was interrupted by a blinding yellow flash that plunged into her belly, knocking her 20 feet into the air. It had begun.

***********************************************************************

Buffy was amazed at how deserted the street was compared to the bustling activity of the previous evening. Cautiously, she entered Macy's.

The moment she entered the lights of the store blazed into life. Buffy was startled and slightly blinded when she sensed something moving toward her very fast from her left. Her instincts saved her neck from being snapped by the vicious flying kick, but not her shoulder. The Slayer went flying into the checkout area, banging her skull hard on the cash register. Blood flowed from her forehead into the till.

She instantly forced herself to grit her teeth through the pain and spun to face her attacker. Her enemy stood roughly 15 feet away with her head cocked slightly, hands on hips. Buffy's face was a mask of shock.

Her first instinct had been that she was simply looking at one of the many mirrored pillars that populated the giant department store. Roughly one and one half seconds later it struck her that she didn't have her hands on her hips as the image before her did. Her final confirmation occurred when her opponent spoke.

"God, you really are hopeless. You waltzed right in here without looking from side to side? How did you live this long, anyway?"

"W-what are you?"

"I-I'm y-y-you," her clone mocked. "With some major improvements."

For an insane moment Buffy thought Spike may have reassembled the Buffy-Bot, but that was silly. The robot had never moved that quickly or ruthlessly. No, this was something else. Something like....

"They cloned me. Travers cloned me."

Her other sneered. "Not just you. Faith and Willow, too. Once we take you down we're taking over."

Buffy had finally gotten her wits back. "Not gonna happen."

"I'm not the one bleeding."

"Let's work on that." Buffy leaped at her other, only to be caught in midair and thrown into the menswear area, crashing into a rack of clearance items, bruising her back on the unforgiving metal.

"While you're down there, help me out, would you? Is there anything on sale that might fit Spike? I thought I'd give him a little present."

Buffy kick-flipped off the ground and waited for her other to make the first move. Her opponent was clucking her tongue and shaking her head.

"Really, Buffy, what is it with vampires? How many are you going to fall for until you figure out that we're supposed to be killing them instead of screwing them?" She stroked her chin as if in thought. "I'll tell you what, though. Just to show you I have an open mind, I'll see how good he is in bed before I dust his ass."

That was it. Buffy went for her, but this time she anticipated the move her other would make. They circled the store, trading punches and kicks, with Buffy slowly gaining the advantage by changing her style on each exchange.

It was simple, really. Whatever she would normally do, she resisted her instincts and did something completely different. The clone knew how Buffy fought; that's what she'd been trained for.

Therefore Buffy started channeling her toughest opponents through the years. She used a tablespoon of Faith, followed by a teaspoon of Angelus and a pinch of Spike, and when her other was totally thrown she'd just be herself again.

It didn't work every time; she had the bruises to prove it. Still, she was winning and she knew it.

Suddenly she felt dizzy, her mind reeling with shock and pain. Her clone reacted like lightning and drop-kicked her through the display window and into the dark, deserted street.

Buffy was now bleeding in a dozen places as shards of glass were lodged in her back. She attempted to roll over and rise when her other met her with a vicious kick to the ribs, sending Buffy ten feet down the road. Evil Buffy went for another kick, but this time Buffy grabbed her foot and twisted, sending her other spinning to the ground.

The original Slayer took advantage of the moment, hauling herself up and disengaging glass from her flesh. She'd just resumed her classic fighting stance when she staggered backward, hit with another wave of agony.

The first wave had been caused when Xander was hit with a taser blast to the chest; the second by a baseball bat breaking his right leg just below the knee. Travers had gone to Plan B.

- End Chapter Sixteen -