"Are you sure you're up to this?" Tara asked for the fifth time that afternoon.

"I'm fine," Spike assured her, doing his best to look fit and not at all headache-y. He'd wait until she wasn't watching to pop more aspirin. Her concern was touching, but there was a part of him hankering to snarl. Fortunately, Tara was satisfied for the moment and let him be, going off to handle some customers.

His head did ache and he desperately wished he could slip away to his crypt, but that would be to admit he wasn't feeling quite as well as he claimed. He'd had enough hovering over the weekend; if he hadn't managed to escape from Buffy and Dawn's place Monday evening, he probably would have gone mad. Spike enjoyed female attention as much as the next fellow, but there had come a point when Tara and Willow (to whose good graces he seemed to have returned) reminded him of nothing more than his maiden aunts who'd hung about every sickbed ministering to the helpless patient.

Thankfully, Buffy had come to his rescue, as if she'd sensed his discomfort through the strange connection they shared. She'd shooed them out and told him to get some rest. He'd hoped she'd linger, but she muttered something about work before slipping out the door. Not that he would have been much company; he'd slept most of his stay, letting his body heal as best it could.

Confident Tara wasn't watching, Spike retrieved the bottle of aspirin from his pocket and shook out a pair of pills. A mug of cold tea stood on the counter and he snagged it, using the liquid to wash them down.

"Bit of a headache, Spike?"

He nearly jumped at the sound of Giles' voice behind him and set the mug down harder than he intended. "If you must know, yes, and it's clearly fogging my senses since I can't hear a middle-aged shopkeeper sneak up on me."

The words came out a bit harsher than he intended and earned him a lifted eyebrow. "Sorry. The head is better today than yesterday and will probably be better tomorrow, but being watched all the time tends to make one a bit jumpy."

To Spike's surprise, Giles chuckled. "Actually, I find it quite amusing that you've managed to acquire so many protectors since the last time I was in Sunnydale…Tara, Dawn, even Buffy to a certain degree."

"A bleedin' project, that's what I am. Dawn and Tara went shopping for me Sunday. Got a suit for tonight, some new shirts, and five pairs of jeans -- all blue, I might add. Apparently they think I have too much black in my wardrobe."

Giles joined him in leaning against the counter. "Buffy once suggested I should improve my image by shopping at the Gap. Or Banana Republic; I forget which."

"This from the woman who trots about cemeteries in heels?" Spike shook his head. "I love her, Giles, but sometimes she's…"

"A woman?" Giles supplied.

Spike paused, considering. "About sums it up," he said at last. "They haven't really changed in a century, you know."

"I don't think they've changed in a millennia."

The two men stood there for a moment in silent solidarity. A knock at the side door and Spike reluctantly convinced his body to move. It was the delivery people from the Bronze, laden with the trays of food Tara had ordered up. As the delicious aroma of garlic-laden wings filled the shop, he directed them toward the big round table he and Dawn had cleared earlier that afternoon.

"Everyone's gone," Tara said, coming to join them, "and I've got the closed sign out." She stopped and took a whiff. "Smells delicious."

"Couldn't get them to do the flowering onion for us?"

"Off the menu. Besides, after twenty minutes, it gets soggy." A frown as her eyes passed over the spread. "Dawn, why don't you help me arrange this. Spike, go change and then you can set up the drinks."

Spike did as he was bid, ignoring Giles' amused expression. Both Tara and Dawn had already expressed their disappointment at the fact he'd chosen to wear regular jeans and a button down shirt for the bulk of the day, not mollified at his insistence he was saving the suit for the mixer.

They'd been terribly proud of their purchases, especially the suit which had apparently been quite a bargain. He had to admit he liked the fabric, a light-weight linen-like weave, though his enthusiasm was tempered somewhat by the fact the color was off-white. Dawn had informed him it was "natural." Yeah. Like his hair. At least they hadn't expected him to go completely poofter; the shirt was a rich blue-green, as was the matching tie. Spike considered omitting the tie on general principle, but decided the grief he'd get wasn't worth it.

Shrugging on the jacket as he emerged from the back of the shop, he headed for the counter, where Giles had already begun to set out the liquid refreshments. "I feel like I'm about to go out on the bloody river."

Giles looked up from the bottles he was arranging. "That's what Tara chose? I must say, she has taste."

Some of Spike's anxiety slipped away. "Really?" He preened a little and straightened his tie. It was the one thing he truly disliked about being a vampire, the pesky inability to see one's reflection. Pity he'd never appreciated good clothes until after he was turned.

"Oh, my god, Spike! You look so cool." Dawn's squeal confirmed he must look presentable, even if this was the girl who only a few days ago complained he was too skinny. "Let me get a picture."

The digital camera she had borrowed from Willow in hand, Dawn caught the shot before he could protest, then bounced over to show him the result. Damn, he looked good. Wait, did he need to touch up his roots...?

He didn't have time to ponder the question long before Giles shoved a bowl into his hands. "Make yourself useful and get the ice."

They were finishing the last of the preparations as Mandy from the Chamber of Commerce arrived. "Everything looks lovely," she chirped. "Mr. Giles, so nice to see you again."

The smile on Giles' face became fixed. "And you, ah, Mandy."

Standing at Giles' side, Spike couldn't resist muttering in a low voice, "Bot."

"Stop it," Giles hissed. "You remember William, don't you?"

Spike's smile became as fixed as Giles' as Mandy drew closer. "Of course I remember William. I must say, you were quite a hit at the last mixer. So good to see a new member of our business community throw himself into the center of things."

That wasn't quite how Spike would have described it. Of course, Xander's discovery of his relationship with Buffy tended to overshadow the rest of the events of the evening. Fortunately, as he struggled to find something to say, Tara rode to the rescue, escorting Mandy away to where the name tags were supposed to be laid out even as she threw the two men a "play nice" look. "You agreed to this?" Giles asked.

"Tara and I didn't agree to anything. This was Anya's idea. If we'd known she wouldn't be back, we might have backed out."

Giles sighed as the bell over the door jingled, announcing early arrivals. "I know Warren should probably be our primary concern at the moment, but we do need to step up our efforts to find out what has happened to her."

There was clearly more Giles wished to say, but he did not continue. This was not the time nor the place, not with guests arriving and both of them called upon to play their role as hosts.

***

It wasn't that Giles hated mixers in particular; he had many friends within the Sunnydale business communities and he welcomed the opportunity to see them again. No, it was the bloody worked involved. If you were attending, the shop would have to be closed early and you had have enough business cards for those who'd asked. There were those who never seemed to write numbers down, who wanted a fresh card each time; those were the ones who never called and never came in.

Then there was the problem of food. Would the appetizers served be enough to act as dinner or would you need to have something in addition once it was all done? You'd get home later than usual and preparing something would likely prove too much of an effort, so you resorted to drive-through or take-out.

If one was hosting and hadn't had the foresight to simply chuck money at The Bronze to handle everything, there was the matter of arranging food and drink, making certain the premises were clean enough to act as a venue and spending the day seeing to last minute preparations. In the case of the Magic Box, there was the additional burden of making certain the more...esoteric items were safely put away.

The plan had been for Spike to help Giles beginning on Monday. But the girls hadn't felt Spike was well to come in Monday. Given how he'd looked when Giles had arrived this morning, they had probably been right. Between the two of them, they'd managed to make the necessary moves, but Giles hadn't missed the very precise intervals at which Spike downed aspirin. He'd need to be watched for the next few days to ensure there weren't any obvious effects from Warren setting off the chip.

It was the less obvious effects that had Giles worried.

At the moment, Spike appeared to be fine, doing his best to charm the guests. He'd taken up a position behind the counter and was acting as bartender, which ensured a nice crowd of ladies was also gathered there...along with Willy, who seemed intent upon trying to make time with said ladies. Dawn, passing by with a tray of empty glasses she'd gathered up, couldn't help commenting, "Buffy would be soooo jealous" before she bounced away.

Giles shook his head. In some ways, nothing had changed since high school. However, given the behavior he'd been observing, Dawn was probably right.

Spike said something to the ladies, then moved from behind the counter, empty bottles in his hand. They'd stored the extra liquor in the training room along with the items they'd moved earlier today. He looked a bit more relaxed, so perhaps he was enjoying himself somewhat.

No sooner had Spike disappeared into the back than Giles' nose twitched with the tang of displaced ozone, followed by a distinct "pop". Turning, he discovered two women had suddenly appeared in the middle of the shop, one dark haired, the other quite blonde.

She'd changed her hair color since he'd last seen her.

She was also Anyanka, he realized, veins standing out from her face as it did for most humans elevated to the status of vengeance demon. Xander had left her at the altar and she'd gone back to Arashmahar and become a vengeance demon.

She had also chosen precisely the worst possible moment and method to make her reappearance. Already heads were turning in her direction, eyebrows raised. Swiftly, Giles moved forward, doing his best to keep his voice level. "Anya! So nice to see you. You're looking lovely."

Anya looked a bit surprised at his words and it was strange to see her raise both her eyebrows in that familiar manner with all the veining. Then, her eyes flicked beyond him to take in the shop. "I knew there was a reason I needed to be back in Sunnydale today."

The veins disappeared, sinking into her skin as she turned to tap the other woman on the shoulder. "Company face on, Hallie. We're among people."

The dark-haired woman did the same as Anya, revealing a delicate English-rose complexion dominated by large eyes. "I told you we should have gone to the apartment."

"Yes, but Xander will be there and I don't feel like dealing with him yet." She smiled at Giles. "Much nicer to come back to business. When did you arrive?"

"Two weeks ago. Tara and Spike called me; they were worried...Tara! See who's back."

Tara needed no further prompting. "You had us worried," she said as she gave Anya a hug. "You should have called."

"Well, it's not like D'Hoffryn has a cell phone I can use. Oh, you remember Halfrek don't you?"

Unlike the warmth she'd shown Anya, there was an unmistakable reserve in the way Tara greeting the other woman. "It's...it's good to see you again."

Halfrek paid the coolness no mind, patting her hair as if to push strands back in place. "I know, I know. No one's ever glad to see a demon when they've been on the receiving end of a vengeance."

"You should have told me what you were up to, Hallie."

"You were so busy with the plans for your wedding to that oaf, you wouldn't have heard me even if I did Anyanka." Halfrek glanced around. 'So this is your little shop."

Anya seemed to remember herself and let her professional smile spread across her face. Words of greeting came from her lips as she stepped toward some of the assembled guests, Halfrek trailing along behind.

Tara looked toward Giles, her concern clear. Giles found himself echoing it. This was not good, not at all. He'd worried this might happen, but faced with the reality, he wasn't quite sure how to react. Someone would have to warn Xander...and hopefully convince Anya pursuing a vengeance wasn't in her best interest.

The famous Sunnydale denial seemed to have kicked in, with everyone glad to see Anya, her strange entrance oh-so-conveniently forgotten. Everyone, that was, except for Willy, who looked a touch pale as he downed his wine. Willy made his living dealing with Sunnydale's other residents and he understood what trouble a vengeance demon could be.

At the moment, all Giles could hope for was there'd no more surprises that evening.

***

Spike realized he'd managed to outlast the mandated four hours between doses of aspirin by a good twenty minutes. Things were definitely looking up. All he had to do was make it through the next hour or so as the party wound down and the necessary clean up was done. Then it was back to the crypt and some sleep.

Good thing the mixer would be ending soon; they were nearly out of wine. Spike carefully juggled the last four bottles of chardonnay in his arms, hoping they would be sufficient. Maybe he could cut Willie off or water his drinks. Turnabout was fair play.

His nose twitched the moment he stepped back into the shop proper, senses at once on the alert. Someone had teleported in. Yet, no one seemed particularly upset or unsettled; Maria and her friends were still waiting by the counter, as was Willie. He could see the back of Tara's head and noted the tighter set to the shoulders. Something was up; the question now was friend or foe?

Craning his neck, he tried to follow the direction Tara seemed to be looking. A bit of a knot had formed among the attendees, but sounds all seemed happy, typical chatty noise. A head bobbed, a laugh floated above the others and Spike grinned. So she'd gone demon again; this should be interesting.

He started for the counter, though one eye stayed on Anya. Was a bit out of character to teleport straight into the shop; she'd always been insistent upon not doing anything that might scare the customers. Of course, it was difficult to know how a newly re-empowered vengeance demon would act...

The dark haired woman directly behind Anya turned toward him, as if she knew he were there. Pale pink and white complexion helped with only the lightest touch of cosmetics, dark hair pulled back from her face, large, luminous eyes he'd only seen by candlelight, never in the glare of fluorescents.

Oh, god. The floor seemed like it would tilt out from under him. It had to be a hallucination, an aftereffect of the damn chip going off. He was in Sunnydale, not London. The year was 2002, not 1880. He was one of the hosts, not some "I suppose we must" guest hiding in a corner writing poetry suitable only to be laughed at.

But it was her.

"Miss...Miss Addams?" Lord, he sounded like an utter twit. He hadn't stammered in over a century; not since Dru had made him. He swallowed, tongue running over suddenly dry lips. "Cecily?"

The woman smiled. "Hello, William. I thought you might recognize me this time."

He was vaguely aware of Giles pulling the bottles from his arms. He didn't care. "This time?"

Anya must have heard him, for she turned away from the man she'd been talking to. "Hello, Spike. Oh, you remember Hallie. You know, Halfrek. From Buffy's birthday?"

The vengeance demon who'd trapped them inside Buffy's house with a monster was the shining, perfect virgin queen of his idiot, wasted youth. "You bitch. Do you know what you..."

He started to step forward, his voice rising with every word, but a hand grabbed his arm, pulling him sharply back. "Not now," Giles hissed in his ear. "Wait till the guests are gone."

Spike wanted to rebel at the words, shove Giles aside and go after her anyway. It was the thought of the chip going off inside a still-aching brain that made him resist the urge, though he jerked his arm free, straightened his jacket and stalked back behind the counter. 'Would you like another glass of wine, Maria?" he asked sweetly.

It seemed like an eternity before they were all gone, but go they did, trailing out into the night singly and in groups. The Mandybot pronounced the mixer a great success and told Giles and Anya they should think about hosting another one in six months. Giles was polite but distant and practically shoved the woman out the door. "Do you mind telling me what the bloody hell you were thinking by disappearing for over two months?" Giles demanded the moment the door had clicked shut.

Anya didn't seem at all disturbed by Giles' outburst. "I told you, we don't have cell phones in Arashmahar."

"Did you ever stop to consider people might be worried about you?"

That brought a sour frown. "Were they really? I imagine they were probably more worried about their precious Xander than me."

Ouch, Spike thought as he settled himself on the steps to the upper level. The sad thing was, she was probably right.

"Tara and Spike worried about you; Tara called after you'd been gone a month and Spike has been helping me try to track you down." Giles was heading into a full-on tear which, for some unknown reason, seemed to please Anya no end.

"So you were worried about me."

"Of course I was. It's completely unlike you to disappear for so long without telling anyone where you were going...though we had our suspicions."

The pair looked like they could go another fifteen rounds, no matter that he, Tara, Dawn and Halfrek were watching. Probably best to go ahead and get clean up started. As Spike stood, though, Halfrek appeared at his side. "I was thinking we could have a little chat. Catch up on old times."

She was smiling at him, a smile he would have once walked a thousand miles for. Now, all it did was piss him off. "Funny, but I don't think we actually have any 'old times' to go over. If I recall, you did your best to avoid me then."

"Well, you have to admit you were a bit soppy, what with all the poetry." Her eyes ran over him. "I have heard you've changed. Scourge of Europe, two slayers...quite an impressive list of accomplishments." Halfrek reached out to run a finger down the front of his jacket. "Perhaps I was a little hasty, but I often am when I'm working. I'm afraid I was caught up in a vengeance and didn't pay proper attention to what was going on around me. I should have gotten to know you better."

Even William would have figured out the meaning behind her words and the way her hands were moving; William probably would have fainted dead away. It was one thing to accept the attention of strange, mysterious women in alleys who promised untold delights...even if the delights included waking up as a vampire. It was another to even consider someone as pure as he'd believed Miss Addams to be might have any thoughts about such base things as sex.

"Uh, Spike, are you okay?" Dawn's voice from behind him sounded somewhat worried.

"Everything's fine, Dawn," he assured her, not taking his eyes from Halfrek. "Get started on the cleanup. I'll be there in a minute."

Halfrek looked smug, certain she'd lured the fly into the web. Deliberately, he took hold of her hand and pulled it away from him. "We have nothing to say to each other. You made it quite clear what you thought of me that night."

A pout, designed to look fetching. "Don't tell me you remember such a silly thing."

He leaned forward. "It's burned into my brain," he told her, his voice low and dangerous. "Kinda hard to forget what sends you out into the night to meet your sire."

Spike dropped her hand as if it were contaminated and stepped back. "Stay away from me, and stay away from Dawn and her sister. You may be Anya's friend, but you've never been mine."

He turned smartly on his heel and went to help Dawn. It wasn't generally considered wise to anger a vengeance demon, but he didn't care at that moment. William might not recognize trouble until it hit him over his head, but Spike could.

Dawn was busily dropping plastic glasses into a trash bag, while Tara was bagging the leftover food. Giles and Anya seemed to be speaking more calmly and Spike could have sworn he caught a bit of a smile there. Halfrek, fortunately, didn't drift in their direction, instead settling into one of the tall chairs in front of the counter and helping herself to the last of the chardonnay Spike had hoped to snag for himself. "Does she have to be here?" Dawn whispered as he took the trash bag from her and twisted it closed. "Makes me nervous."

"Just watch your wishing around her," he warned, then hesitated, wondering whether or not to share his suspicion. "Watch it around Anya, too. Wishes aren't a good thing to make on a Hellmouth."

He left her to start another bag while he carried this one out to the dumpster. As he passed the table on his way back, he reached out to snag one of the fried won tons Tara had yet to bag. "I suppose this means you're going to want some?" she teased.

"Did they leave any of the plum dipping sauce? Why, yes, they did."

"You know, I never thought plums would go particularly well with blood. Of course, you enjoy food for its own taste. I've met very few vampires who do."

Spike looked up, finger poised above the dipping sauce. Anya had drawn near the table, arms crossed and looked at him with a bemused expression. He couldn't resist giving her a smile in return. "You're looking well, pet."

"And feeling well, thank you. Giles tells me you've both done an excellent job keeping the shop running. I knew I asked the right people. I'm...not quite ready to come back full-time yet, so perhaps you'd be willing to stay on? Oh, and Spike, I will take the cost of the glass out of what I owe you."

Behind her, Giles rolled his eyes, but it was easy to tell he was pleased. Hard not to be; she looked far better than how she'd appeared in the door of Spike's crypt after the wedding. Then she'd been red-eyed with weeping. Now Anya radiated vitality and renewed purpose.

Some evil part of Spike found himself looking forward to whatever vengeance she was going to visit on the Whelp. As long she kept it localized, of course, and didn't spill over to the innocents.

The bell over the door rang. Probably one of the guests come back to fetch something that had been left behind. A few items had already been stacked by the register. "Are you sure you needed me to walk you home, Dawn, or were you looking for extra clean up help? If you were, I gotta say I've already done my quota of gum-scraping...Anya!"

The local temperature around Anya dropped a noticeable degree or two. "Buffy."

Buffy didn't appear to notice, coming forward to wrap Anya in a hug. "When did you get back? We were worried about you." She stepped back suddenly. "Oh, I probably shouldn't hug anyone. I just got off work and, well, still at the Doublemeat, so it's still grease city. I wouldn't want to ruin your dress."

The clothes envy was evident as Buffy took in the sleek knit dress with the sweater Anya wore. "That's a really nice dress. And your hair! You got curls."

The temperature inched back up. "Do you like them?"

Buffy considered for a moment. "They look good. They suit you. I've never been able to get mine to do that. Remember the hideous wavy hair experiments my freshman year?"

They both laughed a little too brightly. When they were done, Buffy grew a touch more serious. "You look good; you really do."

Anya accepted the words with grace, but the conversation fell into awkward silence. After sixty seconds in which Buffy and Anya looked at the floor, the ceiling the bookcases, the bagged food, anywhere but at each other, Anya turned toward Dawn and said, "Giles tells me you've been working off your debt, Dawn. He also tells me you've been enjoying yourself."

Dawn shrugged. "It's been fun, being here with Tara and Spike. I...kinda like it."

"Good. I'm glad."

"Anyanka, are we going to stay all evening?" Halfrek called from the counter.

Anya sighed. Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. "Coming, Hallie." She turned to Giles, a hand reaching out to brush a piece of lint from his jacket. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

When the two women had left, Giles cleaned his glasses and replaced them before speaking. "Anya's not certain she's coming back to the shop."

"But she's your partner," Buffy said.

"Yes, well, she's also a vengeance demon again. She teleported into the middle of the shop during the mixer. I would imagine her presence here in Sunnydale has something to do with Xander."

"Probably the 'crawl across broken glass for the pain you've caused me' me type of thing," Spike commented.

"Can she do that?" Dawn asked. "Just put a vengeance on him?"

"I don't think so." Giles was already crossing to the bookshelves, falling into research mode. Spike dropped some more glasses and paper plates into a trash bag and twisted it shut. That was the bulk of it; Dawn had done a proper job of consolidating the used items in one place as the party went on. By the time he returned from dropping it in the dumpster, Giles had a book open on the table, bags of food shoved aside to make room.

"The power of a demon lies in her amulet...no, that's not it...ah, here we are! A vengeance demon of themselves cannot simply rain destruction upon a victim. A wish from a third party who has been wronged by the victim is required and must given with free will, although the person making the wish can be tricked into doing so."

"So Anya needs someone to make a wish," Tara said.

"Someone who feels they've been wronged by Xander," Buffy added.

All eyes turned to Spike. "What? You think I'm daft enough to go making wishes around a vengeance demon? I didn't crawl out of the grave yesterday."

Giles pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Of all Anya's circle, you are the one who's most likely to feel aggrieved by Xander's behavior toward you. And before you deny it, let me remind you of the counter glass."

"Counter glass?" Buffy asked. "What about the counter glass?"

Spike gritted his teeth. "Nothing. Just an accident. So what do you want me to do? Avoid Anya? Not come in?"

"Avoiding Xander is probably the best course. If you're not around him, you're less likely to be agitated..."

"And less likely to make a stupid wish." Spike sighed. So much for the entertaining prospect of watching Harris suffer. "Fine. I'll be a good boy."

The bulk of the cleanup done, Tara distributed the remaining food among them. Wontons and spicy wings tucked in a shopping bag, Spike stood on the sidewalk with the others as Giles locked up. Buffy seemed pensive, he noticed, but the time didn't seem right to probe as to the reason. She and Dawn said their goodnights, but before she turned away, she did offer him a hint of a smile. "I like the suit. It looks good on you."

He felt a grin spread across his face as Dawn and Tara exchanged conspiratorial grins, and then the Summers girls were away. "So," Spike asked Giles before he had a chance to make his way to his car, "How long before you think Xander finds out she's back?"

***

Spike got the answer to his question at twenty-three minutes past eleven the next morning. "Where is she, fang-breath?" Xander demanded as he stormed into the shop.

"And good morning to you, too," Spike replied as he finished ringing up his customer. The woman gave Xander a funny look as she walked past him toward the door, not mitigated by the plastic smile he offered her.

"You are this far away from being staked, so I suggest you can the inappropriate humor. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? She's back, so you're not needed." Xander started toward the training room.

"They're not in there," Spike called after him, although he wondered why he tried since Xander didn't bother to listen. Shaking his head, he sorted through the morning's sales slips, wondering how long it would take the boy to figure it out.

He heard the door to the basement open, Anya and Giles continuing the conversation that had been going since early that morning. "We probably could actually expand out even further if we only had the space, and the training room..."

"Is for Buffy," Giles insisted. "You know that was part of our agreement, Anya. Buffy was to be allowed to use the training room whenever possible."

"You mean the modified agreement. Buffy wasn't an issue then. Of course I was happy to let her continue using the room when she came back, but she doesn't use it much anymore...at least she didn't before the wedding...and I'm sure she's probably going to be busy working, so it's a shame to let the room stand empty most of the time..."

Before Giles could launch his latest round of counter-arguments, Xander reappeared from the back room. One look and his face lit up. "Oh, my God, it's true. Anya!"

He moved toward her, but stopped short, arms halfway to offering an embrace, but falling back to hang limply by his side. "Ahn, you had me so worried. You just...disappeared. I wanted to explain."

Anya's face was ice. "You mean, like you explained at the wedding."

Xander had the grace to wince. "I know that there's nothing I can do or say to make up for what I did. I can't...sometimes I wake up in the morning, and I'm like, oh God, is this my life? Was that me?"

He was floundering, receiving no quarter from Anya. Giles drew back, moving down the counter closer to where Spike stood. This wasn't a scene for witnesses, but Xander was the one who'd chosen the time and place. "But you have to believe me, please, that I want to make up for it, I want to take away the hurt. I love you. So much."

She crossed her arms, standing her ground though there was a hint of moisture at the corner of her eyes. "You love me. So much. That's why you left me standing in that stupid Bison Hall in that stupid dress in front of all our guests. You love me so much you had to call everything off at the last minute. You love me so much that you left me alone to be humiliated in front of everyone I knew."

Her words were daggers, each strike neatly placed. Xander was wounded with the blows, but he struggled on. "I should have said something earlier. I could have spared you that nightmare."

Anya's eyes narrowed. "Say something...about what?"

Spike leaned forward and said in a low voice, "Closed for inventory?"

Giles replied, "Sounds like an excellent idea," and held his hand out for the sign.

As he made his way to the front to put it in the window, Xander was frantically trying to avoid the quicksand he'd just created. "No, no, I mean, you know, if I had been, like, more self aware, 'cause, with the being an idiot thing..."

"If you had been more self-aware, you would have, what? Been able to stop the wedding?"

"I don't mean it like that, it's more like..."

"Do you still want to get married?"

It was classic Anya, a cut direct to the heart of the matter. Xander took it as well as he usually did. "Ahn, it's a very complicated question."

Giles returned, joining Spike behind the counter. Idly, Spike wondered if the wooden structure would provide much protection against a vengeance demon in full rage. Probably not.

Anya had stalked toward the research table, pressing down on the smooth surface with both hands. "Actually, it's really not. Kind of an either-or deal. Do you want to get married?"

"Someday, yes, very much. When we're ready."

She deflated, her shoulders sinking, her head dropping forward. Then, she gathered herself up and turned ever so slowly. Something was brewing inside. It was there in the dark clouds of her eyes, the way she held herself. There was a shifting, far too subtle for a human to notice, but every one of Spike's senses was screaming. He didn't like to admit it, but there were some very good and solid reasons why vengeance demons outranked vampires on the demonic food chain. He was about to witness one of them. "I wish you were dead."

"And I can understand why you feel that way. I've wished myself dead, too."

"I wish your guts would twist in upon themselves, your stomach churn."

"It is feeling a bit upset. Giles, do you have any Pepto-Bismol?"

There was a sudden change of expression, as if she realized why her wishes weren't working. She drew closer to the counter. "Spike, have I thanked you for all the work you've done for me?"

He couldn't see them, but he knew the veins were very close to the surface of her skin, hungering for the wish. "Last night...except for the counter, glass, of course."

"Forget the glass. Have they treated you well? Has Xander treated you well?"

"Honest? Xander's been his usual piss-ant self. I ignore it."

"Wouldn't you like to get your own back just once?" There was something hypnotic in her voice, something that made him want to pour his troubles out before her, let her ease his pain. This was how they did it. Bloody sirens, that what they were.

"Are you offering me a wish?"

"Anything you want. Think of all the pain, all the slights, all the hurts. Think of being able to get your own back."

Spike closed his eyes, images flashing through his mind like some fever-induced dream. Humiliation, insults, all came rushing back.

I hope you're not going to start up your whole obsession thing now that she's around again.

Oh hey, guess what, I forgot Willy Wannabite can't hurt me. Dumb to pick a fight, I guess.

Buffy has lots of friends and we all love her. We're ready to do whatever it takes to protect her and if it means killing you, then, well, that's just a bonus.

His eyes opened to discover Anya's face near his. It'd be so easy. One well-placed wish and Xander would no longer be a thorn in his side, no more insults, no more bothering Buffy about who she chose to associate with...

"No."

Anya blinked, surprised. "No?"

"No." Aware he'd been leaning forward, Spike straightened, pushing back from the counter. "Much as I'd love to see the Whelp burn, Buffy would stake me if I was the one that made the wish. Trying to hard to make things right between us and I won't risk it."

One well-shaped eyebrow rose. "You and Buffy."

"Right, I forgot. You weren't here for the grand unveiling. Buffy and I..."

"There is no 'Buffy and you.' You took advantage of her and I'm going to do my best to make sure it doesn't happen again." Xander took a step toward the counter, fists clenched.

This was unbelievable. Here Xander was trying to make things right with the woman he claimed he loved and he was rushing to assert control over another. "Harris, you have got to be the world's biggest idiot. I do have a wish. I wish Anya would find a way to make you suffer without destruction to life, limb, property or hurting Buffy or anyone else. I don't want to wish Sunnydale into an alternate dimension, make you disappear in a puff of smoke or decide you shouldn't have been born. I just want the girl to feel she's gotten some of her own back."

"Granted."

The veins were sinking back into her skin as he turned his head. Oh, crap.

"Spike, did you just..."

"Yes, Giles, I did. I'm a sodding idiot."

Anya was smiling. "I thought it was rather clever, actually."

"What did he do?" Xander was looking frantically from Spike to Giles to Anya to Spike and back to Anya again. "What did he do?"

"Made a very creative wish. I have no idea what form it will take, but it's going to be interesting."

Now Xander was panicked. He reached out to grasp her by the arms. "Anya, think. You don't want to do this. You don't want to cast a vengeance on me. We love each other, remember? Think of all the good stuff we've done together. Remember how you like the waffles I make you in the morning. Remember how you liked when I would come by at the end of the day to pick you up when you were done doing the Dance of Capitalist Superiority. Remember how I made the new bookshelves for you, and all the plans we made about how the shop would be our little nest egg for our retirement."

"So the shop is important to you."

"Of course, it is. It's important to you. It's a part of who you are. That's why it's been so hard to come in here while you were gone, because it wasn't the same without you."

"So it was hard because I wasn't here, not because I asked Spike to mind the store?"

"Of course that made it hard. How do you think I felt seeing him in your shop, doing your job? It sickened me, how he's wormed his way into all our lives."

Anya smile grew smug and she pulled away from Xander's grasp. "Spike, how much cash do you have on you?"

Digging in the pocket of his jeans, he quickly counted the bills and coins. "Um, sixteen dollars and forty-seven cents. And an un-used scratcher."

Very deliberately, she turned toward him and held out her hand. "Give it to me."

There was something in her manner that unsettled him, but since there was a wish floating about, Spike wasn't about to do anything that might upset her and handed the money over. She counted it and made sure he hadn't scraped away the surface of the scratcher to reveal the possible prize beneath before sliding the items into the pocket of her jacket. "Congratulations, Spike. You are now the owner of my share of the Magic Box."

All three men stared at her open-mouth before exploding.

"Anya, you really should have consulted me before you did such a..."

"A nice gesture, pet, but I don't think I can..."

"How could you even consider doing that?!"

Anya waited for the clamor to subside before speaking. "Yes, I should have spoken with you before I took this step, Giles, but it is my share. That was part of our agreement, that I could sell out if I so desired."

Giles mumbled something about her being right as she turned to Spike. "You're far too clever to sit in a crypt all day and watch television. Even if they continue to ignore you, it's good to have a place of your own. Drive the store into bankruptcy and I will exact vengeance."

Spike couldn't think of a damn thing to say and she turned at last to Xander. "So you think of me every time you're here. You can continue to do that. You can miss me when you come in here for your precious Scooby meetings and see Spike behind the counter." Anya leaned closer. "That's my vengeance; while you continue to work with your friends who you consider so much more important than me, you can be here and remember you abandoned me and humiliated me and I walked away. I get it, Xander. I finally get it. Have a nice life trailing after Buffy and Willow."

She started for the door, but turned back about halfway there. "Giles, I'll come in later in the week. I imagine there is paperwork we have to fill out and I'll want to make certain the books are tidy before I hand them over. Xander, do me a favor and don't be here."

Now it was Xander who deflated before their eyes. The man hadn't been merely kicked in the balls; Anya had done her best to rip them out. And he'd helped her do it.

Somehow, for some reason, he felt a pang of guilt.

Xander looked up at them, defeated. "I...I gotta go see Willow. I'll talk to you later."

He stumbled out the door as Giles reached for the phone. Spike knew that look. Even without a mirror, he knew that must have been what he looked like the morning he'd stood in the ruins of his crypt and Buffy had told him their relationship was over. The whole world had simply fallen out from beneath him and there was nothing to grab onto.

"Yes, he's upset...he said he's coming to see you, but I think you should try to find him...no, I don't know if he's got his car...well, if he doesn't show up in fifteen minutes, give me a call...yes, he saw Anya...no, it wasn't good...oh, she got vengeance...she sold her share of the Magic Box...to Spike...no, it wasn't his idea...not precisely, anyway...yes, well, call me when he shows up so we can stop worrying."

Giles hung up the phone. "Satisfied?" he asked in a somewhat accusatory tone.

"No." Spike didn't take his eyes from the door. "A vengeance wish always rebounds on the wisher, doesn't it?"

"To some extent, yes. They are, after all, the catalyst."

"So I shouldn't be surprised when I see Xander and it brings back memories of how bad it was for me when Buffy..."

He broke off and forced himself to turn from the door. His head, which had actually been doing fine until now, began to throb. Giles — his partner — was watching him, which didn't help. "What do we do now, Rupert? What the hell do we do now?"

Go on to Episode 11: Preparation

Back to Episode 9: Retribution