Author's Note:Hunka-hunka burning Nerd dialogue from "Entropy" by Drew Greenburg. Yes, there is a fairly large amount of dialogue quoted from the show in this part. The choice is deliberate as we head into what is my version of the Season 6 finale. I wanted to herd the nerds to the same place as they were in the show and using Mutant Enemy's own setup seemed the most logical way to do it.

***

It was such a small piece of plastic, but his own face stared back up at him from it, looking as if he'd been slightly surprised by the photographer. At least he didn't look dead, which Spike supposed was something to be grateful for.

Still, it was strange to find himself in possession of a California driver's license, an item of identification he'd never felt the need for before. Sure he'd possessed identity papers, mostly knicked from victims when the need arose. This one, however, bore his face and information remotely resembling fact. True, the address listed was that of the Magic Box and the year of birth was off by some one hundred and twenty years, but the month and day were right. According to this, he'd be turning twenty-six in a month, which was ironic since he'd never actually made it to his twenty-sixth birthday.

"What the hell do you need my birth date for? We'll pick a date and go from there."

Giles glared at him. "Because I'm trying to get you a set of papers that will hold up to scrutiny, you prat. Since I have to do this because you couldn't keep your mouth closed, you will damn well cooperate.

Ripper was lurking close beneath the surface; Spike could see it in Giles' eyes. Deciding the fight wasn't worth it, he said, "June 23, 1854."

The ballpoint scratched across the paper as Giles duly noted the information. "Name. Full name, I might add."

Wondering not for the first time what his parents had been thinking when they held him at the font, Spike swallowed, but gave Giles the information he required. "William Albert Thomas Leopold Ashbury-Smythe."

At least he could enjoy the look of utter astonishment on his partner's face.

The license read "William Albert AshburySmythe," the hyphen somehow having been omitted. The birth certificate included in the envelope that had arrived via FedEx also used only one middle name. "William Albert." He could live with that.

He wasn't so certain he could live with some of the things on the list Giles had given him yesterday evening. A number were obvious items, such as signing the transfer papers for the shop. "Open checking account" was understandable, although the idea was unappealing. "Get a real mailing address/possibly apartment" however, was not something he wanted to deal with.

With a sigh, he dropped the license onto the counter and ran his hands over his face. This wasn't going to work. He was a vampire, a creature of darkness. He wasn't supposed to be standing in a store at ten-thirty on a Thursday morning worrying about checking accounts and apartments.

It was clear Giles didn't think it was going to work, either. He'd spent the last week hovering, nitpicking over every detail, clearly worried things would go to ruin if he let Spike out of his sight for too long, insisting on long sessions after hours at his hotel with catalogs spread out on every available surface. Things had gotten so tense one evening, Spike had actually flashed some fang when Giles explained for the fifth time why the store started looking at Halloween merchandise around Memorial Day. The watcher would be much happier if it'd been Tara who'd ended up with Anya's share.

"Why not, pet? You'd be good at it."

Tara frowned at him. "I can't accept it, Spike. Anya sold you her share to hurt Xander. What he did wounded her, but it's not solving anything by hurting him back. Besides, I don't have time to run the store; I've got school. Have you tried talking to Anya, convincing her to take it back?"

He shook his head. "She says he's feeling all sorts of pain because of it. She doesn't want it to stop. At least, not yet. I tried, but then she started looking at me like I might be a good subject for a wish."

Tara sat down next to him on one of the benches around the research table. "Maybe it won't be so bad; you suggested at one point we consider buying her out."

"I was just talking. I felt at loose ends and the shop gave me something to do. You were the one whose eyes lit up that the suggestion."

That was when she gave him what Spike had dubbed "the mum look." "You're the one who made the wish, Spike. You're the one who has to deal with the consequences."

He hated it when she was right. He'd love to avoid the consequences of this one, but at the moment he didn't see a way out. Colleen would be bringing the final papers by that afternoon and he'd be expected to put his signature on them. That had been behind Giles' rush to acquire the papers necessary for an identity; if Anya was intent upon going through with this insane scheme, Giles had no intention of putting his investment in danger because the new partner couldn't produce a simple driver's license or green card that would stand up to scrutiny. Spike hated to think how many strings the man must have pulled or the favors called in to get these papers.

The shop bell rang and Spike looked up as he reached for the license and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans, while the FedEx envelope was shoved under the counter. Only when he realized it was Buffy did he relax. "Going to do some training?" he asked, noting the bag slung over her shoulder.

"I was thinking about it." She settled on one of the stools and set the bag down next to her. "Mainly, I just needed to get out of the house."

He hadn't seen Buffy since the mixer the week before, but Dawn had kept him up to date on the saga of Revello Drive. "Wanting some fresh air?" he asked as casually as he could.

Buffy gave him the look. The one that said she knew he knew something. "Exactly how much has Dawn told you?"

He tried to look innocent, but when her expression didn't waver, he simply sighed. "Xander has been over every night crying in his beer about how dreadful life has been to him, that Anya hates him and I should be staked on general principle."

"That's my sister, Sunnydale's answer to Headline News." Now it was her turn to sigh. "I should be mad at you for making that wish."

Spike quickly noted the "should." "But you're not."

Buffy shook her head. "Xander just doesn't get it. He really thought Anya would take him back, all would be forgiven and they could go on the way they were. Maybe it's what he wanted to believe. I don't know. I do know that Anya would have found a way to get vengeance on him somehow, no matter how hard we tried to stop her."

Just as he began to relax, she looked straight at him again. "I am annoyed with you, though. Yes, Xander's been over at the house every day. He's crying on Willow's shoulder, blaming everyone else for his problems. Willow's doing her best to be a good friend, but since her parents are driving her nuts, she's kinda getting stretched thin."

"What are Red's folks complaining about? I thought she was their perfect little darling; good grades, bright future..."

"You mean before she had her magical meltdown, stopped going to classes, dropped off the Dean' list and might possibly fail for the first time in her life?" Buffy made a face. "Her mother thinks I'm a bad influence and Willow should move back home."

Pieces began to slip into place. The tears Willow had been crying when he'd struggled back to consciousness, the whispered conversations between her and Tara they thought he couldn't hear. "Doesn't want to, does she?"

"The last place she wants to be is home with her parents. But if she doesn't...well, let's just say that if she doesn't, I may not be the only one working at the Doublemeat Palace to make ends meet."

"Didn't know it was that bad." He didn't know a lot of things, standing on the fringe as he did. Dawn had mentioned Xander with all the dramatic eye-rolling of a teenager who thought the adults were making far too much of the situation, but not a word had been said about Willow. Of course, Willow hadn't been Dawn's favorite person since the car accident in November.

Nor had Tara mentioned anything. But then, she could keep her own counsel and respected the privacy of others...especially when it came to Willow.

"It's bad," Buffy said. "There are moments I think Willow's about to crack in two, but she just keeps trying to hold herself together for Xander and try to figure out what Warren's up to and deal with her parents. I don't know how much longer she can hold it together, though. It was bad last night; when Xander showed up...let's just say it was more than beer he'd been crying in."

In spite of himself, Spike winced. "Gee, don't know of anyone who'd get drunk and stupid over a broken heart."

They were silent for several minutes. Buffy was studying the floor and he was doing his best not to watch her too closely. "Spike…I never got a chance to ask," she said at last. "Did you mean what you said that time? I mean when you came back to Sunnydale."

It took him a moment to realize what time she was referring to. "The memories a bit hazy, luv. Which one of my imbecilic pronouncements are you referring to?"

She was looking down, either unwilling or unable to meeting his eyes. "The one about how Angel and I could never be friends. Do you think that's true? That two people who care about each other can't be friends?"

At the last she looked up tentatively. The shadows in her eyes were the same he had seen the morning Giles had called to say he was returning. They were dancing on thin ice and every one of her fibers must be calling for her to run for safety. He could tell her it'd just been his intent to be nasty to her and Angel, but he knew that wasn't what lay behind the question. "I don't know," he said as gently as he could. "Not if you're saying all you can be are friends, no matter how you feel. But friends...and lovers...I don't know."

Her hand was resting on the top of the counter and he let his own hand inch forward to lie against hers. "It might be nice to find out."

He could see her getting ready to bolt; after all these months, he'd come to know the signs too well. Knowing he had to distract her quickly, Spike said the first thing that came to mind. "Did I ever tell you what I'd wanted to do before I got the idea of the love spell? Decided to get a curse, something that would make Angel's parts fall off. Figured that would fix him."

The moment the words left his mouth, Spike could have kicked himself. Clearly the stupid git aspect was functioning normally today. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable anger and rejection. Why did his mouth insist on constantly tripping him up with this woman?

Instead of rejection, though, a glimmer of amusement began to dance in Buffy's eyes, chasing the shadows away. First one side of her mouth twitched, then the other. Then, marvels of marvels, she began to laugh. It was just a giggle at first, but the giggle quickly grew into something more, the sound filling the store. "It's...inventive," she managed at last.

"So you're not mad?"

"Oh, I would have staked you in a minute. But thinking about it, it's a pretty clever idea. You didn't find it, did you? 'Cause I can name some guys I could have used it on."

"That Parker git, for one?"

She nodded and he found himself caught by the way the light seemed to sparkle around her. She was so beautiful like this; he'd give almost anything to see her that way more often. "There are one or two more," Buffy said with just a hint of mischief.

Resting his elbows on the counter, he leaned forward. "Care to share?"

She swatted his arm playfully. "No. A girl's got to have some secrets."

"Really?" Spike leaned a little closer. He wanted to keep teasing her, keep that sparkle going a while longer. Right now, he was the one who got to enjoy it and the urge to bottle the moment and keep it forever was almost overwhelming.

Buffy leaned closer herself. "Absolutely. If a girl doesn't have secrets, where's the mystery?"

Flirtation, temptation, thy name is Buffy. He swore he saw an invitation. Then she was looking up at him, the soft smile on her lips matched by the softness in her eyes. "Why is that when I feel my worst, you seem to be the only one who can make me smile?"

At that moment, she could have asked for anything and he would have given it to her. "Maybe it's because I don't like to see you sad," he said quietly, letting his hand slide forward to cover her. "Maybe it's because I don't want you to act happy but just lift your spirits for a moment. Maybe…"

His eyes half-closed, his lips slightly parted, Spike leaned forward to close the gap...

The bell over the door jangled discordantly and they both pulled back suddenly. Giles stalked into the shop, eyes dark with fury. "My hotel room was burgled last night," he announced, slamming his briefcase down on the counter. "I had dinner with Anya last night and was out quite late. When I got in, I went straight to bed and didn't notice anything until this morning."

"What did they get?" Buffy asked.

"Several magic texts and some artifacts, ones we took from Warren's."

Spike sighed, notice the sparkle had died in Buffy's eyes the moment Warren's name was mentioned. "I guess his leg is better."

"Apparently." Giles leveled his gaze at Spike. "We are getting cell phones, effective immediately."

"What? I don't need no soddin' electronic leash."

"You damn well do. I would have called you first thing this morning except I remembered your crypt has no way of communicating. By the time I could have reasonably expected you to pick up the phone here, I was too involved to with filing reports and listening to the hotel management telling me valuables should have been put in a safe deposit box to do so."

"I'm here before eight every morning!"

"At which time you work out in the back where it's difficult to hear the phone ringing."

"Hello? Vampire. I do happen to have sensitive ears."

Buffy hopped off her stool. "I'd better go. Sounds like you guys have some things to work out."

Giles sighed. "No, you'd best stay. We need to discuss what we're going to do about Warren. I fear whatever his ultimate nefarious plan is, he's going to try it soon."

Buffy slumped back onto the stool, casting a rather unhappy look at Spike. He smiled in encouragement, but resisted the temptation to reach across and squeeze her hand. Didn't do to push things too far too fast.

Giles did not miss the exchange. "Did I interrupt something?" he asked archly.

"No," Spike answered out of reflex. Right now, with the mood he was in, the last thing Buffy needed was grief from her watcher over flirting with a vam...

"Yes," Buffy said at almost the same time. She looked a bit nervous and embarrassed, but she swallowed and met Giles' gaze. "We were talking."

Spike considered fainting from shock, discarded the idea and considered it again. The music had changed without his noticing it.

Giles pulled off his glasses and cleaned them. "I see. I'm sorry, but the two of you will have to finish...talking later. Right now, we have to figure out what Warren's up to."

***

The chemistry set on the table bubbled, various colored potions in various sized beakers cooking away. Jonathon tried to concentrate on his work and ignore the men looming behind him. He didn't want to think how Warren had managed to find this new lair, caves that somehow came supplied with tables and other surfaces where he could work. And the big pink bed in one chamber was just…he didn't want to think about, even if it was an actual mattress instead of a sleeping bag on the floor.

Warren moved a little closer and Jonathon realized they were all smelling a bit like they'd just stumbled out of a three-day gaming tournament…without the fun and caffeine buzz. "Get back," he snapped. "You don't want to make me rush this."

"Not impressed, Padawan." Warren's voice was just as tight. "When do we hit paydirt?"

"I do this wrong, it's gonna surge and we'll be deader than an ex-girlfriend."

He was tired; too tired, because he knew he shouldn't have said that. He'd avoided the subject of Katrina for some time now, realizing neither Warren nor Andrew felt much in the way of guilt or remorse. Of course, Andrew didn't seem to feel much of anything outside his fantasy world anymore.

"What did you say?" Warren's tone held a touch of menace to it. They seemed to be challenging each other more and more frequently these days. Jonathon knew it wasn't the safest path, knew he should just keep his head down until he found an opportunity to get away, but something inside him was finding it harder and harder to just sit and take the abuse.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself not to look up, keep his eyes focused on the bubbling liquids. "Just let me work."

Go away, go away, go away his mind chanted. If he could get fifteen minutes…if he could get five minutes, he'd be gone. One of them was always watching him, though, as if they didn't trust him.

Warren didn't move back, and when he spoke, his voice held that false calm he used when he was trying to convince Jonathon and Andrew everything was going to be fine. It was the same tone he'd used when they'd managed to stop the bleeding in his leg, after he'd stopped cursing. "All right, do what you need to do. You get us to the goods, then watch out. It's gonna be like the whole world just spread open and gave it up for you, man."

Jonathon winced. Did everything have to relate to sex? Slowly, he turned in his chair, deciding it was time to ask the question. "And then we're done, right? We each take our share and call it a day?"

He could see Andrew hovering at the edge of the chamber. That was what Andrew did: hover. Warren didn't even acknowledge he was there, his eyes fixed on Jonathon. "You that ready to get rid of us, huh?" When Jonathon didn't answer, he continued. Don't worry. We pull this off, you can buy any tropical island you want."

Then he smiled, that awful grin of his that never matched what was in his eyes. "Cheer up, Short Round. You're about to get us everything we ever wanted."

Realizing there was no where to go, Jonathon nodded and turned back to the chemistry set as Warren limped away toward Andrew. They were going to do that talking in low whispers again, share secrets he wasn't privy to. Odd words reached his ears, mostly from Andrew, who couldn't truly whisper to save his life. "…Babylon 5 novels…he told his mother…that soon?…there wasn't a full two weeks on it…thinking of the two percent…wow."

Trying to fight down his rising fear, Jonathon calculated how much time it would take to create the mixture he needed to activate the Disk of Pelf that lay so quietly and innocuously on the table. A part of him had hoped Warren would forget about the artifact after the abortive raid on the Magic Box, but as soon as the man could move without too much pain, they'd been waiting for an opportunity to slip into Mr. Giles hotel room and see if he had it. Now it was up to Jonathon to prepare for the ritual that would pinpoint the next item they needed.

He couldn't help feeling that when they ran out of artifacts, he'd run out of time.

***

Anya arrived around two-thirty, looking rested and happy. To Spike's dismay, Halfrek trailed along in her wake. He'd have preferred it to be Buffy, returning with news of progress from Willow. The push was on and the clock ticking.

"Are you certain you want to go through this, Anya?" Giles asked once pleasantries had been exchanged. "I find it hard to believe you could just walk away all the effort you've put into this place."

She offered him a hint of a wistful smile. "I will miss it, but I think it's time for me to move on. Xander's too firmly tied to this place for me to be happy here." Her smile grew larger. "Besides, it's not like I'm going away forever. I have to stop in on a regular basis to see how Spike is handling things."

Just what he needed. "I appreciate that, pet."

Anya cocked her head to one side as she looked at him. "You're a terrible liar, but it's sweet of you to make the effort. Don't worry; I'll do my best to make certain my advice will be useful. For instance, you really should convert the training room…"

Giles and Spike answered as one. "No."

Their response stemmed the flow…at least for the moment. "If you're willing to give valuable retail space over to an effort that doesn't bring in cash, I suppose that is your prerogative."

"I'm certain William will think of something. He always was terribly clever."

The way Halfrek smiled at him gave Spike the urge to lunge. She'd been poking at him each time she came in with Anya, making little comments that played on their prior acquaintance. The first few times he'd fired back a retort, but it only seemed to encourage her.

Tara joined them, her face serious. "Have you decided what you're going to do since you're giving up the shop?"

It was a genuine smile Anya gave Tara. "Not yet. I'm going to be in town for a while, helping with the transition, granting a few vengeance wishes here and there. Oh, forget I said the last part," she added as Tara's face fell.

"No, really, I understand. After all, you are a vengeance demon. Excuse me."

With that, Tara hurried away to help a customer. Anya watched her go, then turned back to Giles and Spike. "Did I say something wrong? I didn't think I said anything offensive."

"You did fine, Anyanka," Halfrek put in. "I guess some people just can't deal with demons."

Anya shot an irritated look at her friend before turning back to the two men. "Red's having a bit of a hard time," Spike said quietly. "Seems the whelp is crying on her shoulder every night about what you did and it's upsetting her."

"And Tara, quite naturally, doesn't want to see Willow upset," Giles added.

"No. I imagine she wouldn't." Anya looked suddenly serious, as if considering something that hadn't occurred to her before. The expression was still on her face when Colleen walked in the door, briefcase in one hand, folio in the other and a smile on her face, followed by two men in suits. Introductions were made and they all settled at the research table.

It'd been over a century since Spike had needed to sign legal documents that actually had an effect on him. There'd been plenty of incidents where he'd scrawled a name on a sheet of paper, not reading and not caring about the promises and contracts made. This was different; page after page of legalese detailing the transfer of Anya's share of the Magic Box to him…and Spike knew he had to read them all. The lawyer, one of the two men Colleen had brought with her, was more than happy to answer Spike's questions, especially when they reached the portion that detailed the size of the share being transferred.

"You sold her sixty percent of the shop?" He'd always assumed the split had been fifty-fifty

"No, I sold Anya forty the shop. She's managed to convince me to sell her another twenty percent over the past year. It's not like I was planning to stay in Sunnydale," Giles replied a bit defensively. "Not like I'm planning to stay now. Once you're settled in and…things have been taken care of, I'll be going back to England. It's only right that the person doing the majority of the work receive the majority of the profit." He looked at Anya. "You realize this cancels your option. I'm not selling you any further shares."

Anya nodded. "Of course. It's all detailed in the contract, as are our other agreements such as allowing Buffy use of the back room for training. I did, however, insert a clause that requires Spike to give me right of first refusal if he decides to sell his share."

Spike met Giles' eyes across the table. If she wanted first refusal, perhaps she could be persuaded to come back later or Spike could convince Tara to buy him out. She'd be better at this than he was. At the moment, though, there was no out.

Deciding it did little good to delay the inevitable, Spike picked up the pen and scrawled his name across the dotted line. Four more copies to sign and several places to initial later, including Anya and Giles' signatures, and the other man who'd come with Colleen was notarizing the entire affair. Nor was that the end of it. There were other papers covering insurance and various other details. Dawn and Buffy arrived in the middle of it all, but Spike could do little but give them a helpless smile before going back to the matter at hand.

After what seemed forever, everything was signed and hands were being shaken. Colleen reminded Spike about their appointment at the bank the next evening to set up his accounts and departed with the lawyer and the notary. Giles drew Anya away and Halfrek trailed idly after them. Spike just sat, staring down at the pile of documents before him.

"That looked heavy duty," Buffy said, settling onto one of the benches. "Spike? You okay? You seem…shocked."

He looked up, one hand still resting on the pile of paper. "Anya owned sixty percent of the store. That's what she sold me. Sixty percent."

Buffy's eyes went wide. "I knew she and Giles were partners, but I didn't know…"

"I should have realized it." Spike raked his hand through his hair. "Can't imagine Demon Girl would have taken the place on if there wasn't the chance of getting a sizeable cut. Harris had better hope vengeance is satisfied with this. If it isn't, I'd run for the hills."

"Strange to think the wish might have been a good thing."

"It wasn't a good thing. It was a bloody stupid thing to do, especially since I knew she was going to be looking for one. Funny thing is, I said no to her. It was Harris that pissed me off enough to stop thinking. I tried; I really did. I just…"

"I know." Her voice was soft, as was the touch of her hand. It calmed, for some reason, all the panic that had started rising the moment he started to sign the papers. "I wish you hadn't, but you did, so we move on."

It was a strange reversal of their roles. So many times after times after she'd come back, he'd been the one to offer words to calm her, ease her worries. As her fingers wrapped around his, he realized it felt good to have someone -- to have her -- do the same for him. "I hadn't expected to move on to being a shop owner."

"But it's supposed to be a happy occasion and we should celebrate." Anya's voice had risen, carrying across the shop to where Buffy and Spike sat. "We went out for dinner when you signed the shop over to me."

"There are other considerations here, Anya, one of which is the fact that there's a considerable amount of work to do concerning Warren and that has to be our first priority. Besides, there are also things I still need to go over with Spike."

Giles' words caused Spike to groan. "Not the Halloween stuff again."

"No, I think I'll leave that to Anya if she wants to give you the benefit of her advice." Was that a hint of malice in Giles' voice? "There are a few more immediate issues at hand."

He glanced about the shop, which was free of customers at the moment and moved toward the table. "Did Willow have anything to say?"

"She's working on it and says she'll make it her top priority." Buffy frowned. "I think she's going to use it as an excuse to keep from seeing her parents tomorrow night."

"She probably needs the break. It might be best if you can keep Xander away from her, as well."

"How? All he wants to do these days is complain and drink. He doesn't want to go to a movie, just wants to sit." She glanced at Spike. "He's not too happy with me these days, either. I've kinda…fallen because of, well, you know."

They all fell silent, even Anya. After a moment she looked like she was about to say something, but just shook her head and began to wander about the store. To Spike's eye, she looked a touch wistful, as if the reality of the situation was just now sinking in. On impulse, he joined her at the bookcases. "You can still take it back if you want."

He was right; she was wistful. She'd worn that look the night they'd sat at the Bronze, two crippled demons drowning their sorrows and she wore it now as she looked up at him. "No. I need to move on, beyond this. Time to find myself again; I kinda got lost with Xander and the whole Scooby thing." She laid her hand on his arm. "I know I haven't treated you as well as I should. It was just easier to follow Xander's lead and push you to the sidelines. But when I needed help, you gave it to me. Now I can help you. Like it or not, Spike, you've got a chip in your head that won't let you hunt. You need to do more with your time than just hang about in your crypt, help Buffy when she needs to kill something or be an orgasm friend for her. The shop could be it if you give it a try."

She smiled and he saw a hint of mischief there. "Besides, think of the ulcer you'll give Xander if you do a good job."

Spike couldn't help but laugh. "It's awfully tempting. I'm not the capitalist you are, though. I like the simple things: my telly, a good kill, poker with my mates…"

He trailed off as an idea suddenly occurred to him. "Dawn," he called, "are you willing to make a sacrifice for the cause?"

Looking up, he watched as Dawn practically teleported across the shop to get away from Halfrek. "Almost anything," she said cheerfully.

"Even put up with Harris for an evening?" Halfrek had started to follow Dawn's path and Spike glared at her, hoping she got the message. What was she doing? Hoping to entice the kid into another vengeance wish?

"Depends what we'd be doing. If it's just sitting there holding his hand while he cries about Anya…eww. No offense, Anya."

"None taken."

"This should be a little more fun. Slayer, I'm going to be a corrupting influence on your little sis."

"Like you aren't already?" Buffy asked as he headed for the phone. She made no further objections, as though she'd filled her required wisecrack allotment.

The phone rang three times before it was picked up. "Willy!" Spike said cheerfully. "Is Clem there? I know he usually drops by to watch "Murder, She Wrote" about this time…Of course you know Clem. Floppy ears, loose skin…yeah, that Clem. Is he there?…Don't give me guff about your 'patron confidentiality'; you don't have a problem with confidentiality when someone's showing money. Just put Clem on the phone…Willy, if you don't put Clem on the phone, I swear I'll come down there and rip your lungs out…Actually, I don't need to do it myself. I can hire someone. What are minions for?…Good boy."

Spike flashed a grin at Buffy and Giles, who'd drawn close to the counter where he was so casually leaning. "Clem, it's Spike…no, everything's fine. We just got done signing the papers. It's all mine…No, can't go celebrate tonight; got some things that need doing, which is what I'm calling you about. Remember Dawn, the Slayer's little sister?…Long brown hair, met her at Buffy's birthday party…yes, the one who made the wish. Anyway, I was hoping you could do a favor for me and come over to play some cards with her and Xander…yes, that Xander. He's still busted up about Anya…I know he's the one that walked; doesn't mean he's not busted up. We need some help keeping him occupied…No, I won't be there since he's a little unhappy about me at the moment. It's the shop thing…oh, I didn't realize you had a date with Sophie…you could always bring her along. I'm sure Buffy and Dawn wouldn't mind…great. Drop by around six-thirty. Bring wings. I'll pay you back…yes, I have the money…no, don't put Willy back on. I've had enough of him…later, then."

Hanging up the phone, he turned toward Buffy. "Clem's going to drop by this evening. He should keep Harris occupied and away from Red."

"Cool!" Dawn grinned, bouncing a little as she did. "I haven't had a chance to play poker since…" At Buffy's look, she trailed off.

"Spike." Arms crossed, she was giving him The Glare.

He held his hands up defensively. "Wasn't me that taught her. We usually played something safe like Rummy or Whist."

"Then who is teaching my little sister to gamble?"

Tara cleared her throat. "We usually played for matches or pennies. It was just for fun, Buffy."

Buffy was staring at Tara like she'd grown another head. "Hey, it's my responsibility to corrupt the Niblet," Spike warned teasingly.

"I give up." Buffy threw up her hands. "Fine. Poker it is, as long as Willow gets through that stuff."

"I'll come along," Tara suggested. "If Clem's there with Sophie and I'm with Willow, Xander might be more inclined to let us get some work done."

"Then that's settled. Let's just hope Red can make some progress." Spike looked over at Giles. "How'd I do?"

For the first time in a week, Giles smiled at him. "Quite well, actually. There may be hope for you yet."

***

Was there really any hope? Jonathon had to wonder as he readied himself for the ritual. He'd delayed as long as he could, but only bought himself a few hours…and those had not provided any opportunity for escape. All he could do now was the task assigned and wait for the axe to fall.

Andrew and Warren were practically standing over him as he carefully set the Disk of Pelf into the slot atop the wooden pole he'd prepared. Strange to think the preparations for this moment had included careful addition and subtraction in a strange measuring system much like those Indiana Jones had to perform in Raiders of the Lost Ark. He didn't feel like Harrison Ford, though as he arranged the candle behind the disk, the flame shining through the translucent surface to create pale patterns on the map of Sunnydale that rested on the floor. At the moment, he was probably more like Adam Sandler, waiting for disaster to happen.

Certain his preparations were as good as his could make them, Jonathon tried to center himself, ignore the two men behind him. Then, he reached out and carefully let the powder he'd made trickle through his fingertips, showering the disk. A single word that held all his concentration: "Uncover."

For a very, very long moment, he thought it wasn't going to work, but even as powder finished falling, a hazy purple mist began to form. It expanded outward slightly, then began to spin counter-clockwise in tight circles, the light focusing, refracting. Suddenly it was no longer pale patterns playing across paper, but a single beam focused on the hills that lay north of the city. Tighter and tighter the beam grew, until it hit one specific spot.

Jonathon let loose the breath he'd been holding. "There. That's it. That's where we have to go."

There was a longer silence than there should have been, and he realized they must have been exchanging one of those secret glances they thought he didn't see. God, if he got any more paranoid, he should probably just start calling himself the fourth Lone Gunman.

But they'd ended up dead, killed off by their creator as The X-Files had ground to its conclusion. It hadn't even been a good episode.

"Well," Warren said in that oh-so-cheerful voice, "now that we've…"

His words were cut off as the map burst into flames, the heat from the beam too much for it. Immediately, they all scrambled. Jonathon automatically ran for a fire extinguisher, only to remember this cave didn't come equipped with one. Andrew was trying to stomp it out, but then he was yelping and hopping like Yosemite Sam used to do in the cartoons when he got a hotfoot.

It was Warren who smothered the flames, grabbing a blanket from a nearby pile. Only as the smell of charred acrylic fibers filled the air did Jonathon recognize it. "Hey! That's my Phantom Menace blanket!"

Warren dropped the smoldering fabric, the image of Queen Amidala now scorched almost beyond recognition. "Well, that makes sense, it was your fire. But you saw where we were supposed to go, right?"

With one last look at yet another piece of his collection that had been lost or destroyed since the start of this mad scheme, Jonathon turned away. "Yeah, I saw it."

"Good. Then mark it down on the map before you forget. We're going on a road trip."

Go on to Episode 12: Confrontation

Go back to Episode 10: The Return