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The Black Hood called the next morning. Betty had been awake half the night wrestling with whether to tell him the name of the Sugar-man, the name Cheryl had given her, and as she answered it, she felt very calm. "I assume my time's up."

"Yes, Betty. Have you found him for me?"

"I did."

"Good girl."

She should have shuddered with revulsion, hearing a murderer's praise, but she felt nothing.

"Now tell me his name," the Black Hood demanded.

"I could," she told him. "But that wouldn't do you any good now. I've already notified the Sheriff's office. You'll just have to read his name in the expose I just published in The Blue and Gold. Care to comment?"

"I told you what would happen."

"The Sugar-man needed to be brought to justice, not execution," Betty argued. "He will be dealt with in the right way."

"You're playing a risky game."

"Yeah. But it's my game now."

"Which is what, Betty?"

"A game that ends with me catching you," she said firmly. That was the endgame here now. No more being drawn into darkness. She would use the darkness inside her, harness it, and end this her way. "I found out who killed Jason Blossom. I found out who the Sugar-man was. You're next, Black Hood. I'm breathing down your neck. Can you feel it? Can you feel me?"

The call ended without another word, and she took the phone away from her ear feeling good about her decision … and a little bit worried about what his next move was going to be.

Jughead sat at the table in his trailer, head in his hands. How had he not seen that Mr. Phillips was a drug dealer? All that talk about not wanting it in his paper, not wanting it in the school … Jughead was a fool not to have seen through him.

A knock came at the door, soft and tentative. The way his chest tightened, all breath gone, told Jughead who it must be, and he waited for her to go away. He didn't think he could handle her tonight.

But Betty Cooper was nothing if not determined, and she knocked again, harder, before turning the knob and walking in. "We need to talk, Jug."

"Not now." He turned away from her so she couldn't see how much he wanted her here.

"Yes. Now. This has gone on too long already." There was an air of determination about her as she came in. Whatever she had been struggling with the last time they were together, she had overcome it. Jughead envied her.

"What, you came to explain why having Archie break up with me by proxy was an act of love?"

"Yes," Betty said simply. She took a seat at the table next to him. "I was trying to protect you."

"From what? The only person who ever hurt me was you." God, it was true. He wished it wasn't.

"I know. I know, Jughead, and I wish I hadn't had to."

"Then why did you?"

"The Black Hood."

At that, Jughead turned to look at her. "The Black Hood?" Of all the things he'd thought she might say, that was probably the last.

She nodded. "He's been … calling me."

"You mean, after that whole thing with the code book?"

"Yes. He … he thinks we're alike." She had lost her composure, getting to her feet and walking away. "I don't know how he knows about—about this darkness inside me, but he … he does. He wanted me to tell him things, to give him names, and—"

"Did you?"

"Yes." The word was only a whisper. "Nick St. Clair. But he wouldn't take that one because Nick isn't a 'son of Riverdale', and he made me hunt down the Sugar-man for him. He wanted me to tell him the Sugar-man's name, so he could kill him, but I called Sheriff Keller instead." She turned back to face Jughead. "I think maybe it's over now, Jug, maybe I can catch him now, instead of feeling like he's going to catch me."

He was standing up now, reaching for her. To think she had been going through that alone all this time. But— "Wait, what does all this have to do with breaking up with me?"

"He—" Betty swallowed. "He told me he wanted me alone, stripped of anyone I could count on. He made me publish that picture of my mother so I couldn't go to her, and he—he said if I didn't cut you and Veronica out of my life, he'd kill you. Or he'd kill Polly, and I couldn't let him go after her. Or you."

"But not Archie?" He hated himself for the spiteful response.

Betty shrugged. "I guess he didn't see Archie as an asset. Not the way you would have been. Oh, Jug, I wanted to tell you, but I was so afraid—so afraid—"

In two steps he had her in his arms, holding her close. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I wish I'd known."

"You had your own stuff going on." She lifted a hand to touch his cheek. "Jug, the Serpents …"

"I had to, Betty. The Ghoulies—when I told you I wiped out on the bike, it wasn't true. I was trying to protect you, keep you from knowing how things were for me. The Ghoulies beat me up. I had to join the Serpents because it's not safe to be alone at South Side High."

She nodded. "I wondered."

"But I like them, Betty. The Serpents."

Betty pulled herself out of his arms. "You mean Toni."

"No. I mean, yes, but not in the way you mean. Apparently she's more into girls."

She looked at him suspiciously, and he had the strange feeling she understood what had happened, how he had tried to turn to Toni for comfort and found himself just wishing she was Betty. "So, you're a real Serpent."

"Yes. Is that—can you—" He stopped himself, aware that they weren't officially back together, and held out his arms. "I missed you, Betty."

She came into them again, holding him tightly. "I missed you, too, Jug. So much. Can we—can we be together again now?"

"Can you live with me being a Serpent?"

"I can't live without you, Jug. I love you."

"I love you, too." He bent to kiss her, the warmth of her body against him, the sweetness of her mouth, so familiar. She was home; she was where he felt safe. "Don't cut me out again," he whispered. "Whatever happens, let's face it together."

Betty took his face in her hands. "I promise."

"And together, you and I, we're going to take down the Black Hood. He's never going to hurt you again."

Betty sat across from Jughead at Pop's, waiting to hear what he had found on his fishing expedition at City Hall. "Any truth to what that creepy truck driver said about that murdered family?"

He produced an old clipping. "Yes. Shockingly, Freddy Krueger didn't lie to me. A family of four was murdered, by someone that the press called the Riverdale Reaper. The victims were Jim and Mary Ellen Conway and their kids. Tommy was 10; Sue was 9. The Reaper was never caught, or identified, so he could be our Black Hood, but I'm dubious. He would be in his sixties by now."

"Why did he do it? Kill them?"

"The reporter of the article talked to a sheriff at the time who thought the killer chose them at random, or because their house was isolated."

"Where was it?"

"Edge of Fox Forest, down some service road."

Betty sat frozen. She could feel that house again, the coldness there, and she could see—

"Here's a picture of it." Jughead put the picture in front of her. Betty could feel her hands clenching of their own volition and she forced them open, lifting the brittle newspaper to open the picture fully. Yes, that was it. That was where the Black Hood had made her face the blackness inside herself.

"Oh, my God." The words escaped her without her meaning them to. "Jughead, I've been to this house. The Black Hood sent me to it as part of his game."

"Well, then, there's definitely a link between the Hood and the Reaper. We should talk to Keller, pull the files from the murders, at least get a list of all the players."

Normally, Betty loved watching him put the pieces together this way, but in her mind she was still frozen there in that house. And she could hardly face the sheriff with another theory. Not now. "No, Jughead, I can't go to Sheriff Keller. Not after I accused him of being the Black Hood," she reminded him.

"Right. Yeah, that would be awkward." He pointed at the picture. "We could go to the house."

Betty shuddered. "I can't go back there, Jug. He made me look in a mirror—" There was no one else she could have confessed this to, no one else who would have understood. "—and what I saw staring back at me … I don't want to do that again."

Jughead reached for her hands across the table. His voice was gentle; he did understand, and he didn't condemn her for the darkness inside her. "Hey. You don't have to. Okay?"

She nodded, taking comfort from his fingers stroking hers, the certainty of his touch.

The phone buzzed just then, and they both stared at it, as though somehow it was the Black Hood, as though he was still watching. Jughead picked it up, listening. "Yes, I'll accept the charges. … Dad? Dad, what? … You are? Oh, my God. … Yes, of course. I'll make sure— … This is great news." He put the phone down, his whole face lit with happiness. "My dad's getting out of jail."

"Really? Oh, Jug, that's wonderful. I'm so happy for you."

He reached for her hands again, holding them tightly. "Finally, something goes our way."

"Maybe the first of many things."

"Maybe."

Jughead followed his dad down the long road. There was something freeing about it, this solo road trip, two guys on bikes, and he wished he could relax and enjoy it—but his father's bombshell at lunch that he didn't intend to rejoin the Serpents hung over him. Without FP's authority, how could he lead the Serpents? How could he help them, and help the South Side?

They stopped at an outlook near a lake. An idyllic location, peaceful. Far from Riverdale and all its many secrets and troubles. Jughead would have liked to be able to leave them behind, but he couldn't. "Things got ugly when you were away," he told his dad. "I asked myself every day what you would do, if you were here."

"Has Penny bothered you? I figured she's the one who greased my wheels."

"I did a job for her," Jughead admitted. His father had warned him about Penny Peabody, but keeping out from under her thumb had been harder than Jughead had anticipated.

"What kind of job?"

"It was a one-time thing. I figured it best not to ask too many questions. We're squared away; we're good." That was an overstatement, but better for his father's peace of mind.

"You know, when I was sixteen, my old man kicked me out and told me to go to hell. Instead, I joined the Serpents. And then the Army. And then back again. I don't want that life for you, Jug. I want you to go to college, get out of this godforsaken town."

Jughead wanted that, too. He'd always wanted that. But … it was too late for him to be able to put Riverdale behind him with no ties and no regrets. "I ran the Gauntlet," he told his father. "I fought with the Serpents, and for them. I have to stay. I want to stay. And I need your blessing."

FP considered that for a moment. "Just promise me you'll keep writing."

"I will." It felt good that his father recognized what an important part of him that was. "I do every day."

Without another word, FP resumed his seat on the bike and started gearing back up. Jughead did the same, hoping his father understood.

He'd thought he could handle his father's new life, FP's attempt to go straight and make something of himself, but watching Cheryl Blossom throw her milkshake around and FP meekly accept it and act as though she had done nothing wrong sent Jughead into a rage. "My dad used to be a king. A leader of men," he told Betty. "And now he's being demeaned by the likes of Cheryl Blossom? He deserves to be honored, not humiliated."

"So why don't we do just that?" Betty suggested. "Seriously, why don't we throw your dad a … retirement party? Fit for a king." She cupped his face with her hand. "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

"Okay." He wasn't sure Betty really got it, but … he would trust her to do this right.

Betty went immediately to the White Wyrm, to talk to Toni about the party. Toni seemed as wary of the idea as Jughead had been, but Betty was used to barrelling over other people's objections, and she was sure she was right about this. The other part of her reason for being here was hard to broach—she couldn't forget that Jughead had found this woman in front of her captivating, that he had touched and been touched by her. But that was behind them, and Betty was going to need to leave it there. "Also, Toni," she began, "one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you, beyond the party planning, is—" She took a deep breath. "I've been walking the razor's edge since Jughead joined the Serpents, and all I've been thinking is … as soon as FP gets home, everything will get better, because he'll be there to protect Jughead and make sure he doesn't get hurt."

Toni agreed. "Yeah, I'm following you. And with FP out of the picture—"

"That's my whole point. I do worry. So—I want to keep an eye on Jughead. Myself. Make sure that as deep into these snake-infested waters as he goes, he doesn't do something that, you know, puts him in danger." She was thinking of herself, of how deeply involved in the Black Hood's twisted game she had gone while she and Jughead were apart, of not wanting Jughead to lose himself the way she nearly had.

"So, what? You want to be a Serpent?" Everything about Toni said how laughable she thought that idea was.

Betty didn't disagree; she wasn't exactly Serpent material. "Let's say … Serpent-adjacent. But, yeah. Part of his world—this world."

From behind her, Betty heard a derisive laugh.

"Shut it, Birdie!" Toni snapped.

"Sorry, Sweet Valley High. You want to join the club, you gotta do the dance. Serpent dance."

Betty turned around and leaned over to hear the other woman better. "Excuse me? Serpent dance?"

"It's an outdated sexist Serpent tradition," Toni explained. "I tried to get it outlawed, but misogyny dies hard. You don't want to know."

If this was her way in, Betty wasn't going to let a little misogyny stop her. "Uh, yeah. I do." She turned and looked at the woman dancing on the pole. If that was what it took to be what Jughead needed … "I want to know everything."