"So? What d'you think?" George waved his hand in the air for emphasis.

            "Um … interesting."

            "I'm with Dawn." Buffy tried to add a false look of approval. "I mean, it's nice. Really."

            "You tell 'im, B. Lots of sincerity there. Personally, I like it. It's wicked noticeable."

            "So was Liberace," Spike said through a cigarette, "who must've made his way back from bein' staked to help with that thing."

            "Liberace got turned?" Buffy asked.

            "Uh huh. Wouldn'ta done it myself, but there ya go. Dru always wanted to. Y'know who else she wanted to turn? That guy who plays the Joker on that old Batman show."

            "Cesar Romero?"

            "That's right, nibblet. She wanted to turn him. As the Joker, though, not as himself."

            "You know you're fuckin' whack for dating that loony, right?" Faith asked playfully.

            Before he could retort, Anya walked into the training room, her head still turned to the sales floor. "Is it ready yet? Because Xander and Fred are ready to put it out … oh." She glanced at the display.

            George had constructed a box with eight cubbyholes to fit inside the advertising display. A glittering golden starburst surrounded the maroon box on three sides. Across the top, in giant maroon letters, were the words 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' and in smaller print beneath it, 'Magical Fun for the Whole Family'. Underneath the words were life-size images of Fred and George from the shoulder up; the images held wands that moved back and forth across the display, emitting flashes of colored light at each side.

            "You like it?" George asked hopefully.

            "You didn't leave anywhere to put the prices."

            George smiled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pink candy. He tossed it into the box. A small panel appeared at the top of the opening. He tapped the panel with his wand. "Ten for three dollars or forty cents each." In gold script, the words "10/$3 or $0.40 per" wrote themselves out on the panel.

            Dawn let out a squeal. "That is so cool, George."

            He looked at Anya. "When the last one gets taken, the panel disappears and you can put anything you want in the box. What d'you think?"

            She frowned. "We'll put them out for a week and see how we do. But not those toffee-things. The last thing we want is someone eating one in the store and having a giant tongue flapping everywhere. Disgusting."

            George shrugged and dropped the ton-tongue toffee back in his pocket.

            "Anya, how are you explaining the things their gags can do without saying that they're magic?" Dawn asked, her face screwed up pensively.

            "If somebody asks, I'll just say we're only the distributor and they'll have to ask the nice little boys and girls in Asia who put them together. What?" The others, except for Spike, wore expressions of horror. "It's not like that's where they really came from, is it?"

            "Isn't she something?" Xander said, coming in from the main room and giving Anya a one-handed squeeze. "It's a magic shop, Dawnie. Don't worry about it."

            "Lotta people you get in here aren't muggles anyway," Fred said, stepping in behind Xander. "They've just got illusions on. Sometimes the details aren't right and you can tell."

            "You'll have to point them out to me, Fred," Anya said. "I think we could market differently to that crowd, don't you? I mean, we could…"

            Xander cut her off. "An, honey, later, okay? For now let's just get the display up."

            The cave reeked of death.

            The blonde man, in his shadow form, stood at the entrance allowing the enticing aroma to tease his sense of smell.

            "I do so love a party," he said gleefully to Recks, whose beak bobbed up and down in agreement. It had taken them the better part of three weeks to find this particular group. The two of them floated forward, making their way to a large chamber filled with men in grimy, blood-covered white robes, all on their knees, all chanting in an extinct language. They watched the men bow low as their high priest, his robes colored black and his long white beard flecked with red, made his way in from an adjoining chamber.

            The blonde man and Recks remained hidden as the priest dragged in a young girl, no more than ten years old. Her clothing looked worn and tattered, her face blood-stained, and her eyes completely vacant. Whatever had been done to the girl, it had completely destroyed her mind. The priest kicked her to the floor. Her limp body came to rest in the center of a pentagram drawn in what looked to be blood.

            Beginning from the back, the chanting restarted, this time louder and frenzied. Dark energy flooded the room; the blonde man drank it in.

            "This is what I love about the Hellmouth," he said to Recks. None of the others could hear him. "These fools are competent with mundane tasks, but even though they have no hope of summoning any sort of demon, they try anyway." His shadow form sneered. "Fortunately we only need them for the mundane. I think they will do quite well at that."

            Atop the pentagram, the girl let out a blood-curdling scream. The blonde man smiled.

            "Yes, they will do quite well indeed."

            Faith dropped backwards into the chair, resting her elbows on the back as she stared at Spike.

            After a minute, he looked away from the text in his hand.

            "Yeah?"

            "Nothing. Just marveling at the book nerd vampire."

            He snorted dismissively and went back to the book.

            "Find anything yet, goldilocks?"

            "Not a damn thing, Slayer. An' I'm not findin' more with you staring at me like that."

            "Somebody's touchy. What about you, D? Anything on this creep the Godfather mentioned?"

            "Uh uh," she said, not even bothering to glance up.

            Faith waited a minute more, but it was clear no one had anything to say to her, so she extricated herself from the chair and wandered into the training room. The rhythmic pounding of Buffy's fists on the heavy bag greeted her.

            She watched the blonde slayer in silence for a few minutes. The girl had grown stronger, faster, and better while Faith had wallowed in prison. Lifting weights and fighting burly ladies was not an effective substitute for battling Hellgods and government robots.

            "She is good, Miss Faith. I'se never seen anyone like her," Dobby said with a tug at Faith's pant leg. "And last year Dobby and Winky got to watch Mister Spike fight the Jedi."

            "She's impressive," Faith agreed quietly, though she didn't know what Jedi Dobby might be referring to. Probably some wizard baddie Spike had taken down.

            The thumping ceased. "Are you complimenting me, Faith?"

            "Maybe." Faith walked around to the other side of the bag. "You seem a little tense," she added as Buffy started hitting it again. "Wanna go for a real release?"

            "Not … that … I … don't … find … you … attractive," Buffy said. punctuating each word with a punch, "but I didn't do enough time in the ladies prison to really swing that way."

            Faith laughed. "Me either, B. I meant sparring. You game?"

            Buffy stared at her blankly for almost a full minute.

            "Show me what you got," she said finally, shucking her training gloves and moving to the center of the room.

            Faith ditched her denim jacket. "You better get out of the way, Mighty Mouse. Could get ugly."

            "Yes, Miss Faith," Dobby said, scrambling up one of the practice dummies and perching on its head.

He watched with wide eyes as Faith and Buffy began to circle one another. Faith waited patiently for Buffy to move, knowing that the blonde would expect her to attack. The first blow came quite suddenly, a right roundhouse kick moving so fast that Buffy's leg blurred. Faith caught it on her left forearm; she slipped in with a right-left-right combination that Buffy blocked with the edges of her hands.

            At that point, the scuffle started in earnest.

            Dobby alternated between gasping and peeking out from behind his hands as the two girls careened around the training room. Faith realized quickly that she had been right: Buffy was much better, and she was outclassed. She focused on dodging and counterattacking, letting Buffy set the pace but never establish a rhythm.

            "You got good, B," Faith said as they traded blows, "better than the King of Brood, even."

            "I've always been better than Angel."

            "Well, you're a lot better now."

            "Is there a reason you're being like this?" Buffy asked, retreating behind a leg sweep and a left elbow-right jab combination.

            "Just making conversation." Buffy grunted as Faith connected with a punch to her ribs. "Speaking of vampires, what's up with you and the dye job? Things seem pretty tense for two people in love."

            Buffy jerked to a halt.

            "He told you we're in love?"

            "Uh uh. Told me he was. I guessed the other half."

            "You're way wrong, and even if you weren't, my life is none of your business."

            "Whoa-hoa. Grrr," she said, putting a right hook into Buffy's stomach. "Hit a nerve, did I?"

            Buffy drove her back with two right jabs. "You wish. I'm not discussing my love life with a murderer."

            Faith responded with a mock pout and flurry of kicks. "Don't dodge the subject with a weak shot like that, B. It lacks class."

            "Oh, you're lecturing me on class? That's rich."

            "I'm just saying," she grunted as they exchanged blocked punches, "he's a hunk, you've gotta go with me there."

            For a brief second, Faith saw a flash of the high school Buffy as the blonde Slayer smiled and said, "you should see him naked." Then she remembered herself and threw another combination at Faith's head.

            "I heard that. Don't think I didn't. Maybe I should take him for a test run, you know? If you don't love him, I …"

            She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence. Dobby squeaked with horror as Buffy launched herself at Faith, fists and elbows flying, and sent the younger slayer rocketing into the far wall. The loud impact brought Spike and Dawn rushing into the room.

            "Oy! What the hell are you chits doin'?" He saw Faith crumpled against the wall and Buffy looming over her. "Dammit, Buffy, I told you…"

            "It's okay, Spike," Faith said from the floor, "sparring got a little outta hand. No big."

            "You're alright?" Dawn asked. She had taken a new liking to Faith after the incident at the mall.

            "Five by five, D. You guys get back to your research, huh? The sooner you're done, the less pounding B here has time to do on my very attractive person."

            They both nodded, Spike added a glare at Buffy, and he and Dawn left the room. Faith struggled to her feet, trying to get her wind back.

            "I wasn't serious, B. Even if I was, and the bleached wonder wouldn't drive me bonkers in about ten minutes, I wouldn't do that to you. Not now."

            Buffy regarded the other girl carefully. With her avoiding Spike at all costs, and Spike and Dawn in full research mode anyway, she had been spending a lot more time with Faith than she wanted to. She wasn't nearly ready to agree that the rogue slayer had been brought back to the fold, but she had a hard time suppressing the momentary flashes that had once convinced her that she and Faith could be good friends.

            Like now.

            "I know," Buffy said softly, wishing she could retract her fit of rage. Instead, she let a small piece of her heart slip. "It's hard. I trust him to try and protect me – whether I want him to or not. I trust him with Dawn. I even trust him to do the right thing. But …"

            "What if he's still evil underneath," Faith said quietly. "What if he gets inside and uses it against you?"

            Buffy looked up at her, the shock written on her face. "When did you get all insightful?"

            Faith chuckled. "Didn't. I know a little about evil inside, though. Which Billy Idol is not. Not anymore. It's killing him, I think, but he knows it."

            "I can't…"

            "I know. My word's not enough. It never is."

            "I don't know," Buffy said thoughtfully, a small smile replacing the surprise on her face, "maybe not never."