Chapter 39

Fire In The Hole

A/N: Chapter thirty nine in the series.

Disclaimer: You all know this belongs to Joss Whedon and the parties involved in airing the shows.

Feedback: As you wish.

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Somewhere in London

December 2017

Sgt. Joe Hallenbeck was helping a pregnant woman trying to get out of the building she'd hidden when the fires had begun, and had found herself trapped in a now slowly burning structure.

"Come on, lady, help me a bit here." Joe struggled.

"I'm sorry, officer." The woman said as she looked at Joe with teary eyes. Joe cursed and shook his head.

"I'm not mad at you ma'am, but you have to push a bit harder if we want to get out through this window."

"Yes, sir." The woman almost whispered. Joe was about to say something else to calm the young and very pregnant woman when he heard something he knew had heard somewhere before. Standing still, he turned around and tried to see through the smoke,

"Something wrong, officer?" The woman timidly asked and Joe hushed her gently, trying to recognize what he was hearing.

"Can you hear that?" He asked. The woman stopped sniffing and listened up, struggling to get her head upright.

"Aren't those airplanes?" She asked, and something clicked inside Joe's head. He looked at her and his eyes must have sent a clear message, because both the officer and the pregnant woman tossed themselves back into the burning building just in time to avoid being sprayed by the rubber bullets.

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Wesley found himself in a very uncomfortable position while hiding underneath a parked taxi cab, a cramped space for the three of them, causing him to be lying on the ground face to face with what once had been the woman of his dreams.

"Why are we hiding under this vehicle?" She asked, her blue eyes boring holes into Wesley's. He sighed and counted to ten in his head.

"We may be somewhat invulnerable, Illyria." He said, tired of repeating the same speech every once in a while. "Connor is not, and we couldn't have him being injured by one of these things."

Illyria looked at him, and then tried to look past him to see Connor, who was slowly inching closer to Wesley's back, in turn pushing the former watcher closer to the goddess.

"What are these things?" Connor asked, as one of the rubber bullets ricocheted and landed close to his face. He took one of them and awkwardly handed it to Wesley.

"It's a rubber bullet." Wesley stated the obvious. "The army must have already declared a state of martial law and must have used this to control the situation."

"There is a word for this." Connor frowned. "Overkill, why should they send planes and drop rubber death from the sky?"

"The initiative." Wesley replied. "It must be somehow still active within the military. Surely they have already received notice regarding the turok hans."

"This won't kill a turok han." Connor stated.

"Of course not." Wesley nodded. "But it also wouldn't kill a slayer."

"So, why are we hiding down here?" Connor asked and was about to move out when Wesley grabbed his shirt.

"Wait, there's no need to get injured." Wesley said.

"You just said it wouldn't kill a slayer." Connor frowned. "I'm as durable as one of them."

"It may not kill you, but to what use would you be if you fell unconscious?" Wesley stated. "And this rubber bullets are merely the first strike, remember the napalm?"

"Then what? Should we wait for the napalm to fall while we're under a very volatile, how did she put it, fuel consuming vehicle?"

Wesley knew Connor had a point, but his mind was already working, he turned around to look at Illyria and once again frowned.

Illyria was looking away and was absently scratching her nose, a motion so like Fred that Wesley couldn't help but being mesmerized by it.

"What?" Illyria noticed Wesley's gaze and directed her eyes towards him, still scratching her nose.

"Nothing." Wesley said, feeling something akin to a grin creep up his nose. "Just that." He said, pointing at her nose.

"There is an uncomfortable sensation on this part of flesh." Illyria replied, her voice monotonous as ever. "Logic implied I should do something."

Wesley nodded and once again his features hardened. "Connor is right, if we want to survive this we'll have to look for shelter, and I have just found one."

Wesley pointed up and his two companions fixed their eyes into the spot Wesley was signaling to.

"A sewer?" Connor asked. "Man, you and my father did spend too much time together, didn't you?"

"I have the scar to prove it, Connor." Wesley replied. "Now we have to make a run for it, ready?"

Both Illyria and Connor nodded and began crawling towards one side of the car.

"Go."

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"Who was it?" Buffy hissed as the last of the planes seemingly went by.

"Who was what?" Giles replied as he saw Buffy's eyes directed at him.

"Who was the one who gave the order?" Buffy clarified her question. Giles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't want any evasive maneuver this time, Giles. Who did this?"

"What do you want to do, Buffy?" Giles asked. "Even if I told you the name, what good would it make?"

"I want to know who ordered an attack that probably just wiped out the few remaining civilians alive out there!" Buffy shrieked. "I want to know the name so I can get the scumbag after all this finishes and ram my boot up his ass!"

Giles shook his head and hoped Buffy had the common sense to take her anger somewhere else, no twhile being cramped with packs of uneasy slayers ready to pounce.
"I can't tell you the name right now." He replied, his voice stern and harsh. "It doesn't matter right now. There's nothing you could have done, and now the napalm is seconds from falling. You should be more worried about easing your troops instead of finding guilt where there is none."

"What are you, high?" Buffy almost screamed. "Rubber bullets won't stop turok hans, Giles. Napalm won't stop them as well, and all they're causing is more innocent deaths! I want you to give me a name so I can call right now and stop this nonsense!"

Giles grabbed Buffy's arms and pulled her against him.

"Listen up, little girl, because I don't think you're grasping this situation." He said, and he could see the fire burning in Buffy's eyes. "You were out there. You couldn't feel the vampires. You couldn't stop the fires. We are a secret organization, in case you have forgotten. It was obvious the army would take action the moment we failed to do a damn thing. And if the army sprayed the city with rubber bullets was out of consideration for me and the slayers."

"Then the army knows jackshit about consideration." Buffy spat back.

"No, my dear child, they don't, but a rubber bullet wouldn't kill a slayer." Giles stated.

"And what about the rest of the people out there?" Buffy forgot all about privacy and whispers. "What about those who were still running? The turok hans were already here, and they weren't a threat anymore!"

"Which is precisely what Wesley wanted to do in the first place."

Both Giles and Buffy turned around and saw Willow approaching them.

"Don't look at me like that." She said. "He told us and we didn't listen. He was right, there was nothing we could have done. I've been trying to get in tune with the coven and nothing is happening. I can't even feel the vampires outside. We fell into the trap, and the whole city went with us."

"I don't believe that." Buffy said. "We have always been able to come out on top."

"This time was different." Willow said. "I don't like it, but we have to begin thinking like Wesley did, Buffy. The city is gone. There is nothing we could do about it. We tried, Goddess know we tried, but we were outnumbered and outclassed."

"I don't accept that." Buffy crossed her arms. "We don't give up, remember? We fight and we give our best."

"We gave our best in Sunnydale, Buffy." Giles stated. "We fought and closed the hellmouth, but we still had casualties and couldn't save the entire town."

"That was different." Buffy countered.

"How was that different?" Willow asked. "Because we fought? Because you came out of it bleeding and tired? That's it, isn't it?"

"What?" Buffy crossed her arms.

"You're itching because you didn't get to fight to the death." Willow revealed. "Don't feel like this, Buff. There was nothing we could do now. If you didn't get back here, you could have died."

"We could be out there fighting." She stubbornly said. "Instead of waiting her for the fire to rain out of the sky!"

Willow slapped Buffy, an action that wouldn't hurt the slayer at all, but forced her to shut up and brought tears to her eyes.

"Wake up, Buffy!" Willow snapped. "We did everything we could, honest! There was nothing more we could have done out there, except die."

Buffy's hand was covering the spot where Willow had slapped her, and a tear was threatening to fall.

"It's not fair." She whispered. "There must have been something..."

"There wasn't." Giles interrupted. "There isn't. We now have to wait and hope the napalm gives us a head start."

Their conversation and the general chit chat in SL1 was cut short when Xander whistled, causing everyone to turn and look at him.

"Sorry to interrupt all your heated arguments, but I guess you should know the airplanes are making a second pass." Xander informed.

Giles looked at Buffy and then turned towards the steel doors.

"You were wondering why I had some of your girls carry the vending machines, right?" He asked Buffy. "I had them place them at the steel doors. The coolant system and their weight should give us a tiny extra protection should the napalm find its way down here."

"Like using a frying pan as a bullet proof vest?" Willow asked.

"Precisely." Giles smiled.

They soon heard the engines of the planes and all moved as far away from the steel doors as they could.

"Not to be pessimist." Dawn suddenly said. "But we're in the Council's garage, right?"

"I know." Giles replied. "If the fire gets in, we're surrounded by very explosive cars."

Buffy looked at them as they all made their way to the farthest wall from the entrance.

"Then let's hope the fire doesn't get in."

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Sgt. Joe Hallenbeck looked up and was finally sure there were no more bullets coming down from the sky.

"Has it stopped?" The frightened and pregnant woman asked.

"Yeah, think so." Joe replied, daring to look outside and not seeing nor hearing any planes. "Now, to more immediate matters, this house is still burning, let's get out of here."

He turned back and helped the woman get to her feet, and fortunately, when looking back to the window, he noticed the front door to the building had been brought down by the bullets.

"Looks like we're lucky, ma'am." Joe said, smiling. "You won't have to jump through the window."

"Thank God." She sighed. "What were those bloody things?"

"Uh, the army, ma'am." He replied.

"I know, I'm not a complete idiot." She countered. "The bullets. I saw some of them bounce off the floor."

"Probably rubber bullets, ma'am." Joe replied. "We use them sometimes to stop riots gone bad."

"I'd say this riot went quite bad." The woman joked. Joe smiled as well and hoped his own family had gotten out of the city.

"What's your name, ma'am?" He asked, helping her get out of the rapidly burning structure.

"Mary Poole." She replied. "Yours?"

"Sgt. Joseph Hallenbeck, at your service." He replied, smiling. "Now, how far along are you?"

"Six and a half months." She said. "No danger of this bundle of joy slipping away."

"Let's hope so." He smiled.

"There's the noise again." Mary Poole said. "Looks like the planes are coming back for a second round."

"Don't think so." Joe said. "Well, I hope."

"Shouldn't we look for cover?" She asked, her voice trembling. Joe shook his head and noticed how there was only one plane circling over the city.

"I don't think it is going to fire over us again." He said and turned to look at her. "I think we should be safe."

He noticed Mary's eyes were not fixed on his own, but instead on something behind him. Mary Poole instead saw something tiny drop from the underbelly of the plane, which then took off at exceeding speed. The frightened woman merely pointed and Joe was forced to look back.

"What...?"

"It dropped something." Mary said, and Joe turned around in time to see the big ball of flame erupt and the deafening sound of the napalm bomb exploding.