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I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it.
By Marcus L. Rowland
VI
We get in the Jeep for another ride, and Anya decides to close the shop for an hour or two and come along. Fortunately there's just about room for everyone, though it's a little crowded. I'm kinda sandwiched between Anya and Buffy, not a bad place to be if you can ignore the Slayer's occasional comments about my hands if I accidentally touch her. Like she's really going to cut my arms off and use them as stakes, I ask you.
"I didn't find any clues when I searched after they left," says Buffy, "but I was only in there about three minutes, dodging the buzzsaws and grabbing all the papers I could find. They really went to ground after that."
"Do you think the booby traps are still there?" asks Dawn, which I suppose is a good question.
"I doubt it - the place was pretty badly cut up by the time I got out, sounded like it was collapsing. I think they self-destructed. I'll go in first though and check it out, just to be on the safe side."
"Well, the house is still standing," says Xander as we arrive. "Let's see if the owner is around first, they've probabably done some repairs, might know what happened to the trophy. We don't want to break in if there's an alternative."
"Okay," says Buffy, "You try that, we'll wait out here for you."
Xander goes off to look for the landlord, and Buffy turns to Anya and says "What's this about you and Sid?"
"Like I said, we spent a night together in London in the seventies."
"That's right," I say, "a night of searing passion."
"And somehow I'm not buying this," says Buffy, "kinda small, isn't he?"
Anya smiles, and says "Just think of Pinnochio, only lower..."
Willow, Buffy, and Dawn chorus "Ewww," but even I can see they haven't fallen for it. There's an awkward silence.
"All right," Anya says eventually, "We didn't so much make out as pass out. I used a spell to let Sid get drunk for a few hours, and he told me all about his revenge. It was a great party, and I could justify giving him momentary pleasure by inflicting a hangover on him afterwards."
"It was worth it," I say.
"But don't tell Xander yet," says Anya, "I want him to suffer."
"No more than a couple of days," says Buffy.
"A week."
"Monday."
"Wednesday."
"Tuesday."
"Done." All four shake on it, and are giggling together when Xander comes back with the owner, an old geezer (well, young compared to me but a lot older than the Slayer and her pals) who spends the next ten minutes or so complaining about the damage the geeks have done to his basement apartment. Says it's dangerous to go in there. Xander offers to take a look and quote for repairs. There are a couple of hard hats in the back of the Jeep, and he and Buffy put them on and go in, while Willow and Anya prowl around the yard trying to detect the statue magically. As far as I can tell this accomplishes zip. Meanwhile Dawn is pumping me for stories about celebrities I've met over the years, and I'm telling her a pack of lies since demons and demon hunters don't exactly hang out with the rich and famous. The guy who owns the house comes out and sees her talking to me. Dawn keeps a straight face, and says "I'm gonna be doing a ventriloquist act at the school talent show next week. What do you think?"
I say "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled penguins. A gottle of geer."
"Needs more work," says the old guy, and wanders off again.
Eventually Buffy and Xander come out again with long faces; they've found nothing.
"What we really need," says Willow, "is the place the nerds moved to next."
Back to the shop, and Anya opens up and serves a couple of customers while we move back to the table, except for Xander who goes off to place an order for the computer benches the school needs.
"Okay," says the Slayer, "so we're looking for the place the nerd herd hid after they'd finished with buzzsaw central. Any ideas?"
"I found their first place by looking for the owners of that black van," says Willow, "doubt they'd make that mistake twice."
"And I found the second by looking at every apartment that was advertised for rent around the time they moved out," says the Slayer. "Took me three days."
"How about utilities?" asks Dawn, "they must have been tied in to power, phones and the fibre network. Could you trace them that way?"
"I think they were stealing them," said Willow, "they certainly weren't paying for the porn channels they had when they made the invisibility machine."
"And you know this because..?" asks the Slayer.
"Someone left the TV turned on when they had me prisoner and tied to a chair. Saw rather more than I wanted to, soon lost its charm. If it was pay per view they would have been more careful."
"Okay, anyone else got any bright ideas?"
"Ask them?" I say.
"That'd be kinda difficult," says the Slayer, "I had to bust them out of jail to save their lives, and they ran off to Mexico the first chance they got."
"How long were they in jail?" I ask.
"A day or so."
"Either of them confess, or make any sort of statement?"
"No idea. I think Jonathan might have done. Willow, do you still have a way to get into the police computers?"
"If they haven't spotted my back door since the last time. I'll check once the shop is empty."
Soon Willow goes off and does things to the computer again, and eventually says "Here we are. They were never questioned properly, but Jonathan gave his name and address, and it isn't one I've seen before. Wharf Road, near the docks."
"The police have probably searched it already," says Buffy, "but they would have been looking for stolen goods, something like that trophy would probably go unnoticed."
"I can check. Hmm, they impounded a lot of stuff, but most of it turned out to be stolen or bought on fake credit cards. Wow, who needs four widescreen plasma TVs? Okay, what's left...? Okay, item 137, metal and plastic cheerleading trophy. What'd they do with it...? Let's see... oh! They thought it was stolen and tracked down the last person named on it, Catherine Madison, and gave it to her husband, Amy's dad. He's got it."
To Be Continued