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Betty was on the phone with Pop Tate, making plans for the party, when her mother barged in. Barged was a strong word, since the door was open, but walking in and immediately demanding to know what Betty had been talking about on the phone was vintage Alice Cooper, nose in everything.

Well, Betty wasn't going to be intimidated by her mother any longer. She faced the music head-on. "Juggy is throwing a retirement party for FP at the White Wyrm. And I'm helping him organize." Catching that familiar judgmental look on her mom's face, Betty continued, "Before you object, Mom, need I remind you—you were a Serpent?"

Her mother rolled her eyes and stalked out of the room, and Betty braced herself, sure that this wasn't the last she was going to hear about it.

Later, Jughead and Betty caught up with Archie and Veronica in the offices of The Blue and Gold.

"So the real story is in the sheriff's notebook," Archie said, looking his most earnest.

"There was a third child, Joseph Conway, who survived the massacre," Veronica added, dropping a stack of books on the table.

"They hid his identity, changed his name, so he could lead a normal life."

"According to Sheriff Howard's notes, he was adopted by another family in Riverdale and presumably enrolled at a local high school."

Archie picked up a photo and handed it to Betty.

"If we match that boy to one of the students at Riverdale High during the years he would have attended—"

"Then he might be able to tell us how the Conway murders are connected to the Black Hood," Betty finished.

Jughead studied the photo. "Or he is the Black Hood," he suggested. "Just go with me here: Let's say that our mystery kid did end up surviving the slaughter. Maybe he even saw it. It would have messed him up for life."

Betty, picking up easily on his thought process, continued, "Yeah, and somehow, for some reason, he could be blaming the town for what happened."

"And now he's punishing us for it."

"So basically we just have to go through all these yearbooks page by page and see if we find a match." Veronica frowned at the stack of books. "So, not quite a needle in a haystack."

Jughead and Betty looked at each other, and Veronica turned her frown on them.

"What?"

"We just have to get ready for this party that we're hosting."

"It's my dad's retirement party," Jughead explained.

Archie and Veronica looked blank—some combination of startled that they were being left with all the work again and surprised that Jughead and Betty were hosting a party they hadn't been told about.

"No, you guys should come!" Betty said immediately, feeling guilty.

They looked at each other, clearly not sure how to respond.

"If you don't want to, you really don't have to. Not a big deal," Jughead said, at the same time as Betty was saying brightly, "Yeah, no, I'm renting a karaoke machine."

"You should come, you guys," Betty finished.

Jughead couldn't resist a last bit of discouragement. "If you want."

Archie and Veronica looked at each other again, as if they were trying to decide what sounded like less fun—scouring old yearbooks for a picture of a serial killer, or a Serpent party.

Betty dressed carefully for the party. Demure on the outside … but daring underneath. Looking at herself in the mirror, she drew one hand slowly up her bare arm and up over her face. Did she have what it took to dance like a Serpent? Could she be part of that world for Jughead? She felt very much as though if she couldn't, she risked losing him. So she had to … and Betty had always managed to do what she had to do.

Taking a deep breath, she ripped the elastic out of her hair, pulling down her iconic ponytail. Yes. The loose hair was much more in keeping with what she hoped to achieve, especially once she tousled it a little. That girl could do the Serpent dance.

Confidence renewed, Betty left the room, leaving her worries behind in the mirror.

Nerves were getting to Jughead, eating him up inside. So much could go wrong tonight. He stopped to check in with Archie, who was nervous himself and no help, and with Toni, who was cool as a cucumber and still no help.

Then the Cooper women arrived—Alice in full Serpent get-up, and suddenly Jughead thought he understood her in a way he never had before, and Betty demure but mature in blouse and skirt. Her hair was down, and it made him think of her alone, in his arms. Tonight, after the party, he thought, and smiled. The night was looking up. He always felt so much better when Betty was with him.

"Wow," he said as they stopped in front of him. "Betty. Mrs. Cooper. You look incredible."

"Tell me about it," Mrs. Cooper said. She frowned over her shoulder at Betty. "Unfortunately I couldn't convince this one to dress appropriately." Heading for the bar, she made it clear that she and the bartender still remembered each other fondly.

Jughead shook his head and turned back to Betty. "I was talking to you," he assured her.

Betty slid her arms around his waist. "I have a surprise for you, later," she murmured, and the night started to look even better.

Later, Veronica and Archie got halfway through a song on the stage and then rushed off. Jughead watched them go, but before he could speculate too far on what was going on there, Betty had taken the stage to finish their song.

Betty wasn't sure she was ready for this; but the night was growing late and it was going to have to be done eventually. Everyone was booing the empty stage, so she took the moment that was given her and took up the song where the others had left off. It was easier than she expected, to let the music flow through her and strip off her blouse and then her skirt, standing in front of them all in nothing but black lace.

Jughead couldn't believe what he was watching. It took him a moment to process, as the clothes that made her Betty Cooper came off and left her in underthings that made her … someone else. Someone strange and exciting, but alarming, as well. He knew and trusted his Betty, but this woman on the pole, this woman dancing for a room full of Serpents—was she his Betty or some other version of her? Was she doing this for him, or for herself, or for her mother … or for some entirely different reason?

Betty found she remembered the steps she had been taught better than she had expected, and watching Jughead, who she could see only dimly through the lights on the stage, she could feel the pledge she was making to him, to be his, to belong to him. For the first time, she understood why women did the dance.

Silence followed her performance as Betty looked for Jughead's response and Jughead tried to decide how he felt.

Then a smattering of applause came from the audience and FP was climbing the stage, slipping off his jacket and putting it over Betty's shoulders. Jughead looked away, not sure if he liked the image of Betty in Serpent leather.

FP called for applause for Betty's performance, and over the noise of it, he said, "You know, I've been in and out of the Serpents since I was younger than my son. And it's been a wild ride. Good times … bad times … but through it all, the Serpents stuck by my side while most other people turned their backs on me—my own family included."

Jughead frowned up at him, wondering where his dad was going with this. It didn't sound like a retirement speech.

"Now," FP went on, "the letter of the law says that I can't be here in the Serpent den. That I can't associate with my friends. My real family! My blood! But I've been thinkin' about that," he added, lowering his voice. "And it'll be a cold day in hell before a snake lets a pig tell him what to do!"

Wild applause followed his statement. Mrs. Cooper left, Jughead noticed out of the corner of his eye, and she tried to take Betty with her, but Betty stood still, refusing to go.

FP wasn't done. "The North Side wants me out of this gang? Well, they better bring a coffin! 'Cause FP Jones isn't retiring! I am not going gently into the night. I am here to stay. So bring the fire!"

Jughead felt like he had been smashed in the face, his head reeling, his ears ringing. After everything, they were right back where they had started.

His father came down from the stage and walked over to him.

"What happened to retiring?" Jughead asked him.

FP took him in his arms. Under cover of the hug, he said quietly in Jughead's ear, "I know about the Snake Charmer. And the delivery you did and the debt you owe her. It was the one thing, son. The one thing I asked you not to do."

Jughead was crushed; he had tried so hard to keep that from his father, not to burden FP with his mistakes. But now here he was, bringing his dad right back where he had tried to get away from. "I can fix this; let me just talk to her."

"No. No," his dad said firmly. "I'm in; you're out. Penny's my problem now." He stepped back, taking Jughead's face in his hands. "You broke my heart, Jughead." And he kissed him on the forehead before taking a shot from one of the other Serpents and downing it.

FP walked away, leaving Jughead to stand in the midst of the wreckage of everything he had hoped to accomplish, the only person in the room who wasn't celebrating the return of FP Jones to the Serpents.

After FP's announcement, and the way Jughead looked after it, and the lack of Jughead's response to her dance, Betty quietly retrieved her blouse and skirt and retreated from the White Wyrm, waiting for Jughead outside.

As he came toward her, she tried to read him, but all she could see was that he had withdrawn into himself, that the night had come with too many blows to the head and he had wrapped himself in his protective shell.

But she tried to reach him anyway. She had to try. "Hey. What's wrong? Is it the dance?"

"It's everything," he said tonelessly. But then he looked at her, and life returned to his face. Anger, and bewilderment. "But yeah. Why would you do that?"

"I wanted to be a part of this. The Serpents are your world."

"Why? Archie knew to cut bait. Now I'm dragging you down. I'm dragging my dad down."

"Jug, he's still figuring it out, and it's gonna be okay. We'll figure out what we have to do together." She tried to put her arms around him, but he stepped back.

"No. Betty. Mm-mm. Not together. Betty, if you stay, I don't know if I can protect you anymore. You might get—you probably will get hurt. I can't let that happen to you." His hands were gentle on her shoulders, but all she could hear was him trying to withdraw from her. Again. Didn't he know how much better they were together?

"It's not your decision to make," she told him.

"Actually … yeah, it is."

"How many times, Jug?" she demanded. "How many times are we going to push each other away?" She needed him, just as he needed her. That was the truth; the only truth worth holding on to.

But Jughead wasn't listening. "Until it sticks," he said. He pointed at the club behind him. "That was my dad's one chance at going straight, and I wrecked it. I'm not going to destroy you, too."

"Just tell me what happened, Jug. Jug!" She went after him as he tried to walk away, grabbing his jacket and turning him toward her, taking his face in her hands. "Tell me."

"Please." There was a world of pain in the single word, a plea for her not to make this harder for him than it already was. "Go home."

So she let him walk away. Because it was what he needed her to do.