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Buffy watched the fireball fly completely past the target, landing harmlessly in the water trap and her mouth dropped. “She missed! Again!!” Grabbing Willow by the arm, she demanded, “How could she miss that shot? It was so easy. She made a way harder shot than that the other night against a soft shoe demon.”

“I don't know. Maybe Spike warned her not to make it look too easy or something? You know, in case anyone wonders why she’s been trained so thoroughly,” Willow offered weakly. It just didn’t sound right, even to her.

She watched another fireball miss the target by almost three feet and winced as Buffy disgustedly grabbed her arm again. Rubbing her forearm she offered another idea.

“Maybe being aboard a moving ship is screwing up her aim somehow. You know, as it dips with the waves.” Putting on a brave face she added, “Whatever it is, she’s certainly having a really off night, but I’m sure she’ll work it out.”

It was a confident sentence that Willow was seriously trying to believe herself. She knew several of the Grundies had been entered mainly so they could receive a participation ribbon, but Empress was definitely not in that category, at least on a normal day. Their Grundy lived on a Hellmouth and helped the Slayer patrol and the Scoobies had purposely raised her tough so she’d survive. Empress was a seasoned fighter who thought quickly on her feet and could outmaneuver almost anything and hit everything.

Willow’s eyes followed another fireball and winced again. Everything except stationary targets. Enormous stationary targets with large red bulls’ eyes painted on them.

Although she'd tried to reassure Buffy and even herself, Willow was completely flummoxed. She’d been the one in charge of training the Grundy and she knew exactly what Empress was capable of doing; this skewed display of prowess wasn’t even close. Dumbstruck, she watched the Grundy miss the target a third time. Close? This wasn’t even in the same ballpark.

Luckily at this beginning level, most of the others were equally bad or worse. She watched number fifteen fall off the top rung of a ladder obstacle, causing a domino effect when two others tumbled down with him. Willow shook her head. The Grundies below had no earthly idea how to hold on with their serrated teeth and swing out of the way. It was really sort of sad. Grundies had such incredible potential. It irked Willow watching them treated as glorified decorations.

Before she could become too smug over their terrible lack of training, she watched Empress trip- over what? Air? A miniscule speck of dirt?-and fall during a race across a narrow balance beam obstacle much simpler than the one Xander had built for her at home.

When they’d arrived, Willow had taken one look at the first course and swore Empress could finish in record time blindfolded. Yet there she was, allowing the rest of the field to pass her before finally climbing to her paws and jumping a hurdle in front of her.

Buffy shook her head again sadly. “Spike must be having a fit. What is wrong with her? If she waited that long to stand back up during patrol, she’d get herself killed. Now the entire field will be ahead of her and she’ll be disqualified.”

Willow glanced at the scoreboard. “Actually, even as terrible as she's been, Empress has still managed to score better than most of the rest of these groups. Even if she comes in dead last in this event, she'll still be ahead of almost everyone overall except for about four or five others. She’ll still make the semi-finals; she’s only a few points behind that horrid number eight and he’s in the lead.”

Both women watched with distaste as the number eight Grundy leaped a water obstacle with ease. A huge black Grundy with the moniker of Piston, he’d continuously bent the rules, pushing the smallest Grundies out of his way. If they refused to give way, he’d plow right over them while the judges sat in their box ignoring the flagrant abuses.

“I don’t care if number eight is favored to win. He’s an obnoxious cheater.” The field ran by them and Buffy’s eyes narrowed as Piston nipped number nineteen, causing him to misstep and fall in a water trap.

Piston’s owner, a well- known wrestler and hawker of body building equipment on late night infomercials, hadn’t deigned to handle his own Grundy. He stood across the field from the Scoobies, drinking and cheering loudly when number eight pushed another entrant.

Empress, having caught up to Piston, tapped the hurdle with her back paws as she sailed over, causing her to lose a point and land behind him. Buffy groaned again

Hearing loud jeering originate on the other side of Xander, Buffy glared across at his new friend. That guy Crunch was such a jerk, cheering loudly every time Empress made a little mistake. In fact, he cheered for almost all the Grundies except Empress.

She poked Xander on the arm. “Your friend is an ass and for some unknown reason he hates us and Empress.”

Turning away from the demon still making snide comments loudly to his friends, Xander lowered his voice and pleaded. “Don’t worry about him, Buff. I think he's jealous. He can't afford one himself and he knows you guys are with Spike.”

“People can’t always afford what they want, but they don’t behave like that.” She shot the obnoxious demon a murderous look. “When this is over, no matter who wins, I'm going to tell him exactly what I think of him. I hope he’s off for the evening, ‘cause he might need some time to recuperate.” Turning her attention back to the field she watched Empress clear the last few hurdles cleanly, managing once again to remain in contention.

Xander tried to concentrate on the competition again when a meaty green hand clamped down heavily on his shoulder. Leaning close enough that Xander could smell his sour breath, Crunch’s voice rumbled in his ear. “Those bitches next to you are starting to really get on my nerves. Every time number six somehow manages to pull it out of the dumper, they scream and their voices sound like nails on a chalkboard. You need to tell them to tone it down, Harris, or I will. Me and the guys have a lot of money riding on this and we’d like to watch without that squealing giving us migraines. Otherwise we might have to tell them ourselves.”

“I’ll talk to them before the next start.” The hand disappeared and Xander breathed a nervous sigh of relief. He’d already bitten off all the nails on both hands and he was starting on the cuticles. This had certainly turned into a nerve wracking way to earn a little extra money.

His radio beeped and he reached for it, praying for divine intervention. At this point, he'd be thrilled with an offer from the Council to airlift him into the Hellmouth itself. At least he’d only have to play for one side.

*****

Spike poured more water into the bowl assigned to competitor number six and watched her lap it up. “Rest a bit, luv.” Empress pushed away from the bowl and settled into Spike’s lap, panting. He gently stroked her head. They had a few minutes break while the final group of Grundies ran the course.

“That’s my good girl.”

He matter-of-factly surveyed number eight on the other side of the room, noting with satisfaction that Empress’ chief competition was definitely beginning to tire, too. Spike could tell from the way the black Grundy held his head.

Number eight was a right nasty wanker. Spike had watched him push the other Grundies including Empress, all over the field using his size and weight rather than actual talent or skill. He’d bullied the less trained Grundies for pure spite, causing a few to be unnecessarily injured.

The clever Empress had figured out how to avoid the Grundy by practically throwing her heats. She’d slow down or trip enough to wind up behind him and then sprint at the final turn to make it into the top three and the next heat. And she’d managed to do it without making it seem too easy for Xander’s sake, but Spike knew it was taking a toll on her. She was tiring, too.

Spike reached down and gently adjusted her number.

Whimpering a little, she shifted when Spike touched the number tied around her stomach. Frowning, he lifted it and parted her thick fur. A large bruise was purpling on her scales. Trying to tamp down his anger, he carefully smoothed the fur back in place and moved the number up a bit so it didn’t rest directly on the bruise. Lifting up her muzzle, he stared into her eyes. “Is this what happened when that wanker knocked you into that steel barricade at the far turn?”

Empress thumped her tail once. Spike stroked her head and spoke quietly. “You've done a sensational job tonight walking the tightrope. You've handled the situation the best way possible under the circumstances and I’m so proud of you.

But you've been a punchin' bag long enough. I can't stand that git thinkin' he's better than you. You're worth a hundred of him. It's the final run of the night and you fought to get here; they’ll have no quarrel with Harris now.” Spike's eyes gleamed. “I want you to go out there and kick ass. Do your very best.”

She cocked her head and glanced at Piston.

His expression hardened. “If that wanker tries to get in your way, move him out of it. I want to see your true talent shown to everyone out there. You’re the best and it’s time they all got to see that.”

Empress growled displaying her serrated teeth and Spike’s eyes gleamed. “That’s my girl.”

He stood up. “Come on luv, it’s your time to shine.”

Everyone in the audience was riveted on the final three contestants as they took the field: Piston, Empress, and number twenty, a surprisingly agile and talented male named Salsa. They would be the only competitors. Winner take all.

*****

Empress snorted lightly and watched the man in the white uniform set the final obstacles. The course had become more difficult each heat. The first couple times through she’d had a tough time trying to deliberately miss. It ran contrary to her natural competitiveness, but she’d managed to make it look real, and she’d been fine with doing what was necessary to help her companions and not draw too much attention to herself.

Then that black wanker had pushed her during a critical moment, causing her to not only miss for real and have to work really hard to stay in the contest, but he’d hurt her stomach, too. Looking at her opponent waiting in the lane beside her, Empress narrowed her eyes. It wouldn’t happen again. This time she was out to win, not place. Digging her back paws into the deck, she waited for the starting gun.

The gun went off and Empress and the other two Grundies charged down the deck toward the first obstacle, a six rung ladder. Each rung narrowed, until the contestants had to use not only their paws to gain the ladder’s top, but their teeth as well. The final rung, smeared with something extremely slick, was only two inches wide. Empress climbed to the top, remembering to duck the sharpened steel bar that swept across at varying intervals. Once she’d gained her footing, she aimed a quick fireball at the moving target to the left, before climbing down the other side and rushing to the next obstacle. The course was timed. She couldn’t afford to slow down.

Glancing back quickly over her shoulder she watched her fireball hit dead center of the target. Bulls eye! She was pleased to see number twenty had come in a little too high to be a true bulls eye while the wanker hit right on top of hers. Coming to a straightaway, she picked up speed, the other two running just behind her. Number eight reached out, trying to nip her back paws and force her to trip. Empress put on a burst of speed, and kept out of his reach.

Next up was a new obstacle, especially designed for the final heat. Running full out Empress reached the six foot high hill. She dug her curved nails in deeply to gain purchase in the loose sliding dirt and not lose critical speed. Clawing her way to the top she flung herself off the edge into the air. Using her forward momentum to cross empty space, she dropped onto a small floating square in her lane. The square flexed beneath her as she crawled toward a shiny stone in the middle. Reaching the stone, she swallowed it as the black square transitioned to red.

She quickly switched to her stone aspect, milliseconds before a lightening bolt struck her chest. The magicked bolt quickly dissipated and she morphed back to her regular aspect, hurtling herself carefully onto the next moving square. It remained black. She swallowed the second stone and quickly leaped again. The third square turned red, Empress morphed and the lightning bolt again struck harmlessly. She continued to leap frog carefully across the squares, trying to land in the middle so the square wouldn’t tip, while swallowing the stones and morphing when necessary.

Following in his lane, Piston landed on the first square and quickly swallowed the stone. The square remained black. He landed so heavily on the second square that it shifted slightly and the stone slid toward the edge of the square. Standing still, he tried to catch his balance before reaching for the stone. He grabbed it just before it dropped from the edge as the square flashed red. Miscalculating how quickly the square would transition, he inched back from the edge slowly, morphing barely ahead of the lightning bolt. Morphing back again, he warily continued to the next square. This time size would not be an advantage.

At this level the course showcased intelligence and cunning. It was not enough to have strength, fast reflexes and speed. The winner would be the Grundy that exhibited excellence in all.

The third Grundy had managed to navigate half way across the squares in his lane, but was tiring rapidly. Exhausted, Salsa stopped on one of the black squares. The audience held their collective breath as he wavered, before gamely attempting another leap. Landing, his feet went out from under him and he slid toward the edge, grabbing the stone as he slid. The square flashed red as he struggled to catch himself. Too late to morph, he dropped from the square, forfeiting the trial. His owner ran out on the field and hugged him as everyone in the audience gave him a hearty round of applause.

Caught up in the drama on the field, Buffy and Willow watched Empress ignite, outshining the others on the course. Ignoring the stupid demons beside Xander, they started yelling her name. Several people around the girls joined in cheering her on.

Spike stood at the gate to the field smiling proudly as Empress leaped to the ground after the last transition, several squares ahead of number eight. By this time her spirit had captured the hearts of the crowd and he could hear them cheering for spunky number six as she neared the final obstacle. A whisper ran through the crowd. If number six continued through the last obstacle at this speed, the ship’s record could fall.

Empress dove into the final obstacle, a large darkened tunnel magicked into a twisting maze with various dead ends, good for becoming lost and eating up precious seconds.

Everyone collectively held their breath and waited. Seconds ticked by. Would she make it through or become hopelessly lost? If she did find her way, would it be in time to break the record?

Number eight completed the flying squares challenge and ran quickly into the tunnel. Still no Empress.

On the sidelines Buffy and Willow held their breath. Willow checked her watch. There were only a scant few seconds left.

Spike gripped the gate post and watched the tunnel exit.

Come on luv, you can do it. Scent your way through. Use you night vision; don’t fall for their stupid tricks….

Suddenly Empress emerged from the tunnel and a shout went up. She sprinted down the field flat out; ears back and tail streaming. The crowd roared as she raced across the finish line.

Spike ran onto the course as Empress crossed the finish line, breaking the previous record by three seconds. With the cheering crowd in their ears, he fell to his knees as she leaped into his arms.

Still hugging the victorious Grundy, Spike proudly watched Captain Weldon pin a ribbon on Empress’ collar. The spectators clapped as he accepted a silver loving cup on Empress’ behalf for beating the course record.

Buffy and Willow screamed and ran on the field, hugging Spike and Empress. Xander yelled and clapped for the beribboned Empress as she and Spike left the course, with Willow and Buffy hanging onto them, the loving cup held high.

Snickering, Xander watched the wrestler. Expression sour, he waited on the sidelines for someone to open the tunnel so he could rescue his Grundy. Number eight was still mired somewhere inside.

He turned toward Crunch and the demon snorted. “I have to say that I would never have thought that little number six would win, but she fought for it. It was a good contest. She’s got guts.” He handed Xander a fist full of bills and motioned to his friends. “Let’s go to the bar. Xander, are you coming?”

Xander shook his head. “No, I’ve got someplace else to be. I’ll see you guys later.” He hurried to the field and his friends.





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