(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.

Holding my breath as I patiently wait

What could come next

You turned on a light in my gullible mind

I let you inside

Just like a child imagining what could be

I let it run wild

I was naïve

It's too good to be true

Still I believed

You told me what I wanted to hear

Your words paint pictures so sincere

Well, some things aren't as they appear

The fantasy is over

-Trapt, "Storyteller"

Andrew was driving Buffy crazy. He'd recently gotten hold of a video camera from somewhere and got it in his head to "document" the day-to-day operations of Team Slayer. Everywhere Buffy turned, there he was pointing that stupid camera lens at her, running off commentary on the fly. It was beyond annoying.

"It is a cold night, and the wind is croo-el," Andrew murmured as he surreptitiously (he thought) trailed after Buffy while she patrolled one of the cemeteries, "But the Slayer has a job to do." A fledgeling vamp jumped out of hiding. "Unfortunately, vampyrs have a job to do, too," Andrew added, placing a ridiculous inflection on the word "vampire."

Buffy leapt to the top of a large tombstone and fired off her crossbow, dusting the vamp instantly. As she hopped down from her perch, a second fledgeling appeared and managed to knock the slightly off-guard Slayer into the hard marble gravestone.

"Ouch! My goodness!" Andrew exclaimed, "Things look bad for the Slayer, don't they? She didn't see that second vampyr concealed by cover of darkness, ready to attack and make her his own vampirical spawn."

As the vampire came at her, Buffy's arm lashed out at the last second and drove a stake into the creature's chest. She stood, wiping off the dust, and gritted her teeth when she saw Andrew trotting towards her, camera at the ready.

"That was great," the amateur videographer gushed, "I completely got you dusting that guy on film. Hey, why do vampires show up on video?"

"I told you I didn't want you doing that," Buffy growled, "It's distracting."

She started marching off for home, Andrew trotting alongside.

"Okay, I'll cut the footage together and do the intro tomorrow," he dropped his voice to what he thought was a more dramatic sounding pitch, "She was a woman in danger. Or was she?"

"Are you still filming me? Stop!"

"But it's—it's a valuable record," he insisted, "An important document for the ages. A Slayer in action."

"A nerd in pain. Would they like that?" Buffy countered, "'Cause we could do that."

"But the—the story needs to be told."

Buffy huffed and rolled her eyes. She tried her best to ignore him the rest of the walk home. As soon as they entered the house, she dashed upstairs and shut the door to her room behind her before Andrew could pester her any further. She wished she could've slammed it, but that would have woken the Potentials currently taking up floor space in the bedroom.

Spike quirked his scarred eyebrow at her abrupt entrance. He was lounging in the bed, wearing the pajama pants he so resented, a book propped on his lap. He and Buffy had agreed that at least one of them should stay behind while the other patrolled to protect the girls, just in case. From the vibes he was picking up through the link, it seemed he'd gotten the better end of the deal this night. At least all he had to combat was boredom.

"Run into some trouble?"

Buffy began stripping out of her clothes, flinging them into the laundry basket with unnecessary force. "Andrew," she griped in a whisper, "Little twerp followed me around all night with that stupid camera."

Spike's mouth twitched in amusement. He closed and set his book aside, swung his legs off the bed and stood. Buffy was already slipping into a nightgown as the blonde vampire approached her from behind. She sighed when she felt his hands come to rest on her shoulders and start kneading away the tension.

"The boy just wants to feel like he's doin' something useful."

"It's not just that," Buffy muttered, calmer, but still irritated, "He's using it to distance himself. Turning everything into a movie so he won't have to deal with everything that's happening. Everything he did."

"Like murdering that other one," Spike guessed.

"Jonathan. Yeah. He never took responsibility for killing him, and now he's acting like nothing even happened." Buffy pursed her lips. "And on top of that, the Hellmouth's been acting up again. Sometimes I think I can feel it all the way over here."

"You 'n' me both." Spike wound his arms around her shoulders, pulled her back so she leaned against him. He nuzzled the side of her neck, his lips brushing against her Claim mark. "We'll deal with it, luv. But right now you need to get some shuteye. You're knackered."

Buffy sighed, "If you mean dead on my feet, then yeah." There was always so much to do, and it never felt like she accomplished anything.

She let Spike guide her to the bed, stepping over the prone figures of Potentials wrapped like cocoons in their sleeping bags. She lay down and he drew the covers over her, then Spike walked to the other side of the bed to join her. Buffy watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, exhaustion finally catching up with her. When Spike got into bed, Buffy instinctively rolled onto her side and snuggled up to him. She let sleep overtake her, and for a few hours was able to forget about the Hellmouth, the First, and Andrew.

Morning, of course, was a different story.

Andrew entered the crowded kitchen, taking in the bustling Potentials through his camera lense. "It's morning in Sunnydale—"

Rona's exasperated voice cut him off mid-narration, "Who the hell's got the low-fat milk?"

Andrew cleared his throat and started again, "It's morning in Sunnydale, and the women of command central take the time to fortify themselves for the day ahead."

"Hey!" Xander protested, standing off to the side eating dry cereal straight from the box.

"Women and Xander," Andrew amended. "Hey, I'm gonna do your special intro later," he told the carpenter, "The man who is the heart of the Slayer machine."

Xander grinned, flattered. "Yeah? The heart?"

Andrew continued to pan around the kitchen, capturing numerous girls eating a variety of cereals, boxes and bowls cluttering the counter. "Things are tense in command central this morning. Buffy is clearly concerned with some unknown danger and the air is filled with foreboding."

Dawn suddenly spoke up, "Oh, um, we're out of raisin bran."

"I'll put it on the list," Anya replied.

"That's probably not the...unknown danger," Andrew muttered awkwardly. He brightened as Buffy and Spike appeared at the doorway.

"Look at this place," the vampire scoffed, "A damn girls dorm is what it is." He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with his trusty Zippo.

Dawn grimaced. "That's nice! Secondhand stinkiness."

Spike ignored her and blew out a tendril of smoke.

"It's a full house," Andrew remarked, "I think it's a good time to do some introductions. Don't you, gentle viewers?"

His camera came to rest on Amanda, who grinned and waved hello. "I'm Amanda, and I grew up right here—"

"No, not you, sweetheart," Andrew interrupted with an apologetic wince, "Let's start from the top."

Spike listened with amusement as the boy started his introductions. He could imagine the scene running through Andrew's head: golden light flooding the place, everybody moving around like slo-mo models while wind from an unseen fan blew their hair dramatically.

"You've already met Buffy. She's beautiful, with a lion's heart and—and the face of an angel. She's never afraid, because she knows her side will always win."

Spike glanced at the woman in question and saw her roll her eyes in exasperation.

"Buffy and Spike have some kind of history," the clueless Andrew continued, "You can feel the heat between them—although, technically, as a vampyr, he's room temperature."

Spike shook his head, a laugh struggling to escape.

"Anya, a feisty waif with a fiery temper and a vulnerable heart that she hides, even from herself."

The former demon raised an eyebrow at that.

"This lovely girl," Andrew's panning camera came to rest on one of the Potentials eating cereal, "I don't remember her name."

"Oh, for god's sake," Buffy finally cracked, "Can't we make him stop?"

"I don't know," Rona spoke up, thoughtful, "If we save the world, it will be kinda nice to have a record of it."

Amanda added with a shrug, "If we don't save the world, then...nothing matters."

"That's catchy, Amanda," Kennedy responded sarcastically, "Let's make that our slogan."

"Yeah, it is kind of strange how you keep savin' the world and there's not any proof," Xander remarked to Buffy.

Anya nodded, "Yeah. Y'know, for future generations."

"And it does help the girls with training," Willow suggested, "You know, viewing the tapes."

Buffy stared at her friends, incredulous. "C'mon, no one else thinks this is idiotic?"

"Buff, I don't get why this is botherin' you so much," Xander replied.

"Because it's a waste of time," she all but snapped, "Come on, someone has to agree with me. Spike?"

The vampire gave an indifferent shrug. "As long as you're not pointin' that thing at me, it seems like a fine way to keep the boy busy."

Buffy threw him a glare. Thanks a lot. "This isn't about keeping busy. This is about war," she turned to the others, particularly the girls, "I-I'm sorry to jump all over you guys, but...I have to tell you what's really going on. There's something new. Amanda, Dawn, you're gonna stay home from school today. We can survive what's coming, but not like this. I had a vision of what's to come. A horrible vision..."

She explained to them what she'd seen, the army of Turok-Han hidden beneath the Seal of Danzalthar. While she talked, Spike left the room. He already knew all this. Buffy also noticed that Andrew had wandered off, which in her mind was a bonus. By the time she finally wrapped up her speech, the girls were fidgeting. Buffy stifled a sigh; she wasn't very good at this, conveying the seriousness of the situation. Seemed all she did anymore was give long speeches nobody wanted to listen to. She glanced at the wall clock and saw she was running late. Dawn might not be going to school today, but Buffy still had to work.

Things were as bad at the high school as she'd feared. Just the first minute after entering the school building, Buffy had to break up a fight out in the hall. After sending the combatants to class, she noticed a girl standing in a corner who was slowly fading to invisibility. Buffy hurried over and gave the shy girl a light slap to the face to let her know that, yes, she did exist. No sooner had she averted that little disaster then another girl came out of the bathroom, sobbing and wailing about how the mirror had literally called her fat. Then Buffy heard a guy stressing about all the schoolwork he couldn't keep up with.

"I can't take this semester anymore. It's just so much for me to handle. So not only does Mr. Hildebad move up the trig exam to today, but he also makes it cover three more chapters, and I've got an English paper due tomorrow. I feel like I'm gonna explode!"

Buffy rushed to the boy's side. "Hey, uh, I can help. You just need to relax, y'know?" She turned to the kid's friends, "Think one of you guys could give him a foot rub?"

The overwrought teen blinked at her. "What?"

Buffy finally entered the faculty office only to find Principal Wood standing by the counter with a tissue pressed to his bleeding forehead, an open first-aid kit in front of him.

"You're hurt! What happened?"

"Someone threw a rock at me as I got out of my car," Robin answered, "I didn't really get a good chance to see who."

Buffy rummaged in the kit for a band-aid. "Yeah, well, it could've been any of 'em—students, teachers. Something is going on today."

Robin's mouth twisted in an ironic smile. "Yes, well, um, that occurred to me as I ducked the other two rocks. Buffy, what the hell is this?"

Buffy snorted, "Everything." She carefully applied the band-aid to the gash over his left eye.

"Slowly," the principal half-joked, "I may be concussed here."

"There's this thing that happens here, in this school, over the Hellmouth," Buffy tried to explain, "The way a thing feels...i-it kind of starts being that way for real. I've seen all these things before, just not...all at once."

Robin frowned. "So, what, it's like hell's a-bustin' out all over?"

Buffy smirked, "Exactly."

"So, what's the worst that can happen?"

"War, pretty much."

The principal's eyebrows rose. "Oh, I see you're being amusing, now, with comical exaggeration."

Buffy leaned against the counter, a faraway look in her eyes. "Being in high school can feel like being at war. Now it's true. The students feel like the teachers are out to get them, the Chess Club resents the French Club for taking the activities room, and, well, everybody hates the cheerleaders." Her expression turned sober, "If we don't do something about this, we're gonna have a riot on our hands. And a lot of other nasty stuff, too."

"Like what?" Robin asked.

Right at that moment, the overstressed student Buffy spoke to earlier let out a loud scream, then there was a wet pop and blood and other unspeakable stuff splattered the office window. Buffy ruefully shook her head, "He really should've had that foot rub."

Buffy and Robin made their way down to the basement. Buffy had a theory that the reason everything was happening all at once was because the Hellmouth's energy was trying to escape from the seal in an intense, concentrated flow, like a geyser. When they reached the room where the Seal of Danzalthar was located, Buffy was perturbed to find that it was once again unburied.

"I swear we just covered this thing up."

"It doesn't want to stay hidden anymore," Robin mused, "It wants to turn these kids into monsters and victims and who knows what."

Buffy chewed her lip. "Well, it's more than that. Look, Robin, I um...I had a vision the other day."

"You have visions?" the principal looked at her in surprise.

"Sometimes." She told him the same thing she'd told the others back at the house; about the horde of Turok-Han waiting to be unleashed. "The last übervamp I faced crawled out of that very hole. Makes me awfully nervous." Buffy frowned as Robin stepped down onto the seal. "What're you doing?"

Robin crouched down to scrutinize the intricate patterns. "Have you ever really studied it? You know, gotten close?"

"Well, I know it's a goat with its tongue out," she replied, a touch flippant, "Willow did a search on the symbolic database, but, uh, turns out everybody likes a good goat's tongue. Rock groups, covens, Greek cookbooks. She said she couldn't narrow it down."

"And you trust her?"

Buffy frowned at the unexpected question. "Why wouldn't I trust her?"

"I don't know why any of you should trust each other," Wood muttered, "You've all been evil at some point, right?"

"No, that's...that's not true," Buffy stammered, "I mean, yeah, Willow had a bad patch, but I've never been."

"Evil is what evil does," Robin's voice was pitched unnaturally low. He straightened and Buffy saw his eyes had turned cloudy, his expression vacant. But his too-deep voice was full of rage, "And I know what you're doing. You're with that vampire. Screwing that vampire. You filthy whore!"

Wood lunged. Buffy dodged to the side and shoved him against the wall. "Robin, are you okay?"

He shook his head, blinking rapidly, his eyes back to normal. "What happened?"

Buffy glanced at the seal. "I-I think it was controlling you."

"Buffy, we gotta get rid of this seal," the principal declared in alarm, "We gotta shut it down before it starts affecting everyone."

Buffy nodded, "Think I have a pretty good idea who we should talk to."

"Yeah? Who's that?"

"The guy that fed it its first drop of blood."

They marched into the living room where Andrew was busy narrating to his camera.

"Heads up, Andrew," the Slayer interrupted, "We gotta talk."

"We just spent the day keeping a lid on a war," the principal stated.

Andrew perked up at this. "Ooh! That would be very exciting on tape."

"Hey!" Buffy snapped, "The school is out of control with energy from the Hellmouth. It's time for you to help, Andrew."

Andrew fidgeted in his seat, "Well, right now I'm really more about the recording of—"

"No. No more watching," Buffy's tone brooked no argument, "The seal thing is your baby, and you gotta get in there before it tears everything apart."

They gathered the Scoobies and Spike into the living room. Kennedy was there as well, having argued that the Potentials should be kept in the loop, and since she was more or less the leader of the Potentials... Buffy didn't waste time they didn't have on arguing. Besides, Kennedy did have a point. The Potentials should know what was going on, and having one of them acting as a sort of representative was easier than cramming them all together in one room.

Tara produced what looked like an ordinary lump of glassy stone. "I-It's a memory charm," the witch explained, "It'll help him pull up the memories we need as clearly as if they were happening n-now."

"Can you make it so we see the memories, too?" Buffy asked.

Tara nodded. She moved to kneel in front of Andrew and held the charm out to him. After chanting a few words, the stone began to glow. "Look into the charm," the witch instructed, "Focus on what we need to know. Remember how you activated the Seal of Danzalthar."

Reluctantly, Andrew stared at the glowing charm and let his thoughts slip back. The others tensed in surprise as a scene played out in their own minds, almost like a movie.

It was somewhere in Mexico, in 2002. Andrew and Jonathan were asleep in the rundown shack they called home. Both men tossed and turned restlessly, their dreams assaulted by images they didn't understand. A voice chanted over and over, "Desde abajo te devora. Desde abajo te devora..."

They woke gasping in fright.

"Omigod! Omigod!" Andrew blurted.

"Did you have it again?" Jonathan asked.

Andrew nodded, "I had it again. And that voice. What does it mean?"

"Let's try looking it up again in the morning in the diccionario," Jonathan heaved a shaky sigh, "Holy cats, that was terrifying."

"We're fugitives," Andrew murmured, "haunted by our past, tormented by a message we don't understand."

"We're hunted men," Jonathan agreed, "driven mad by forces beyond our understanding."

"We're men of faded power, tortured from within by—by a voice out of nowhere."

"I don't deserve this," Jonathan lamented, "I wasn't even that evil!"

"I thought you were evil," Andrew said helpfully.

Jonathan threw him a hopeful glance. "Yeah?"

"Sure," was Andrew's sincere reply, "I respected your ideas for evil projects, and I thought you had good follow-through."

"Oh. Well, thanks," his friend smiled, "It's nice that you noticed."

Willow's voice suddenly cut in, "Okay, I think we're getting a little off track here."

The scene abruptly vanished, returning them all to the present.

"I don't wanna do this anymore," Andrew whined, "Everyone's staring at me."

"Just focus on the charm," Tara urged, "Y-You have to focus on the charm to pull the memories out."

Andrew turned his face away from the glowing stone. "But it tickles, and I'm all tense. Can't I have a cool, refreshing Zima?"

"No Zima," Buffy refused for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Shut your face about the Zima," Spike growled, "Just talk."

"You were the first one to uncover the seal and feed it blood," Buffy stated, "How did you know it was there? How'd you know what to do?"

Andrew squirmed, "I-I don't know. Stuff happened. I...I forget."

"So remember," Kennedy insisted, "Look at the charm."

"But I'm not a part of this," Andrew denied, "I document. I don't participate. I'm the detached journalist recording with a neutral eye."

"Andrew!" Buffy yelled, "Stop it, or I'm going to smash this camera over your head." She held the item up for emphasis. "Actually, I'm gonna do that anyway, so you might as well talk."

"And stop going off topic," Willow added.

"I wasn't off topic," Andrew retorted, defensive, "It's gonna get relevant in a second, because Jonathan's gonna go to the bathroom..."

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." Jonathan hopped out of bed and disappeared through a nearby door.

Andrew lay quietly for a moment, then almost jumped out of his skin when the First, in the guise of Warren, leaned over him. "Did you get the knife?"

"Uh, yeah," Andrew stammered, "It wasn't easy. I had to meet this demon guy who sells all kinds of weird weapons and stuff."

"Show me the knife," the First ordered, "Quick, before shortcake comes back."

Andrew got up and retrieved a box from under the bed. "Oh, it'll be a while. He's got a shy bladder. Jonathan, you okay in there?"

"Don't talk to me! I'm fine," Jonathan's muffled voice answered.

Andrew opened the box and pulled out an ancient-looking dagger. "Pretty knife, except the—uh, stabbing. I-I don't think I can do it."

Not-Warren offered a smile of encouragement. "You can stab him. It's all part of the plan. That boy's blood is a powerful tribute. It's a gift to something very big, very important. And ultimately, it won't even hurt him. We get a reward. You and me and him, too."

"We live as gods," Andrew breathed.

"That's right, man," the First grinned, "The Trio, livin' as gods."

A dreamy expression came over Andrew's face. The scene suddenly shifted into a valley filled with colorful flowers, a unicorn trotting in the background and piles of gold scattered here and there. Andrew, Jonathan, and Warren pranced around in loose togas, Andrew strumming a harp and warbling, "We are as gods! We are as gods! We are as goddds!"

It snapped back to the bedroom with the First saying, "There's power in that knife. Drive the words deep into him. It's the only way for us to get our reward."

"Got it. If I kill him with this knife, we live as gods." Andrew got that dreamy look again, about to return to his fantasy, when Willow interjected.

"Wait a second. Go back. What was that part again?"

"You mean this part?" Andrew took them back to the fantasyland. "We are as gaaahhhhds!"

"Not that part," Willow interrupted, dragging them back to the present, "We need to see that knife. There's something there."

Buffy turned to the Potential, "Kennedy, search his stuff. Find the knife."

"It's not in my stuff," Andrew lowered his head, looking uncomfortable, "It's...in the kitchen cutlery drawer. You didn't have any steak knives."

Everyone stared at him. Even Spike seemed taken aback by this.

"You put your old murder weapon in with our utensils?" Willow gaped at him, appalled.

"I washed it," Andrew helpfully responded.

"What are you lookin' for?" Spike asked, returning to the subject at hand.

Willow answered, "The first said something about words. 'Drive the words deep into him.'"

"There was some carving on the blade," Andrew told them, "I just thought it was a pattern."

Kennedy returned with the dagger and handed it to Willow. The redhead examined the blade for a moment, then held it out to Andrew. "Okay. You're Mr. Demon Summoner. How are you with demon languages?"

He squinted at the patterns etched into the blade. "It's in Tuwarik. It's, uh, like, proto-Tuwarik. It's really, really old."

"But, what's the big?" Kennedy asked.

"We've never know anything about this seal," Robin said, "Now we know that this knife and this language are connected to it, somehow."

"Andrew, do you speak Tuwarik?" Tara asked.

He nodded, "Yeah, I'm okay with it. It says...'The blood which I spill, I consecrate to the oldest evil.'"

Buffy looked at Willow. "You think you can do something with that?"

Willow took the knife back. "Let me work on it."

Buffy followed the redhead into the next room where the laptop was set up, leaving the others to wait in the living room. Some time later, Willow found what they needed. "I think it's got a shot."

Buffy nodded, a plan already forming in her mind. Unfortunately, she sensed that time was of the essence, which meant she wouldn't have a chance to take the others aside and fill them in without tipping Andrew off. She would just have to hope that they played along.

"Guess what, Andy. You just won yourself a free vacation to the beautiful downtown Hellmouth."

Andrew sulked, but for once actually kept silent. The others looked puzzled.

"So he can do what?" Spike asked, "Yell at it in its own language?"

Buffy half-shrugged. "Maybe."

"What? I-I'm not following," Robin blurted.

"We have to deal with the seal right away," Buffy stated firmly, "We already might have to shut the school down, and I'm not losing any more territory to the First. Besides, it's the only thing we've got."

Willow backed her up, "The seal responds to this language, somehow, o-or the First wouldn't have needed the knife. Andrew knows the language, can really talk to it, maybe give it commands."

"C'mon. Robin, Spike, let's go." Buffy headed for the door, hoping they wouldn't ask any more questions. She knew Spike would sense she was up to something she couldn't talk about, but Robin was still an unknown quantity. She wasn't sure he trusted her enough to be willing to go along with what sounded like a very tenuous plan.

Andrew seemed resigned to whatever fate was in store for him. He didn't argue as the two men escorted him out of the house. They all piled into Wood's car and rode out to the high school.

It was chaos. Graffiti everywhere, trash and broken furniture littering the floor. Someone had even dragged a bunch of oil barrels into the building and lit fires in them. Buffy shook her head in dismay. "The riot that almost happened."

"Looks to me like it happened, after all," the principal remarked.

There was a distant shout and something shattered against the far wall.

"Looks to me like it's still happening," Spike drawled, shining his flashlight over the surrounding wreckage, "Nice way to run a school. There's gotta be kids injured in here."

"Yeah. Easy pickings for the likes of you, huh?" Robin sneered.

Spike bristled at the man's tone. "Hey, here to help, you know."

Robin snorted, "Right."

Standing a few paces back, Andrew turned his camera towards himself and whispered excitedly, "Check out Spike and the principal. There's something going on there. Sexual tension you could cut with a knife."

They continued to make their way down the hall towards the door leading to the basement. Every once in a while they glimpsed figures running by or heard voices shouting.

"These kids really went nuts, didn't they?" Spike muttered.

"No kidding," the principal retorted just a tad too loud.

Buffy shushed him, "They'll hear you."

"Buffy, they're all the way down—" A fire extinguisher came swinging out of nowhere and knocked Robin to the floor. Seconds later, they were all under attack.

Spike was startled when a hit to the jaw sent him sprawling. "Kids are getting stronger!"

Andrew scuttled to the nearest dark corner and huddled with his precious camera. "Oh, god. Struck down before I achieve redemption."

Spike, Robin, and Buffy continued to fight off the hyped-up teenagers. At one point, when the vampire had a kid pinned to the wall, Buffy shouted, "Spike, don't kill them! They're just students."

It wasn't because she suddenly didn't trust him. She'd said it for Robin's benefit, to show him that Spike's aggressions were under control. Spike realized this, so he didn't take it personal. Instead, he knocked out the kid he was fighting and replied, "They'll live."

Having fought off the worst of the attack, they rushed to the basement access.

"Okay, Spike, Wood, I need you guys to stay here. Hold our line of retreat," Buffy ordered.

"So, I'll be staying here with these men, helping out with that holding-the-line thing," Andrew ventured. Buffy gave him an exasperated look and grabbed him by the collar. "I'll be with Buffy," he said as she dragged him through the door. Once the door shut behind them, Andrew returned his attention to his camera. "We make our way down the stairs, carefully, alert for any danger."

"Oh, stop it!" Buffy snatched the camera from him and switched it off, "No more."

"But I just—I just want the world to see what you do," Andrew protested.

"What I do is too important to show the world," Buffy muttered.

"Ooh, I like that!"

"Be quiet!" she hissed, "I don't want a biographer. Especially a murderer."

"Yeah, well, see, about that? We just keep tossing that word around, but that's not really what happened."

Buffy threw him an incredulous look. "What? You stabbed Jonathan to death. What were you trying to do, scratch his back from the front?"

"It was confusing. I-I wasn't going to stab him, but Warren was there and only I could see him," Andrew explained, "And he started yelling at me that I had to stab Jonathan. Then Jonathan saw the knife and he got mad. He attacked me. Then the knife slipped and... See, I'm a man trapped by circumstances into paying for a crime I didn't even—"

"Huh."

Andrew blinked, "What?"

"I thought you would say that," Buffy told him, "I saw the seal possess Wood like that earlier today."

"Yes..." Andrew's gaze turned distant, "That's exactly what happened! I-I couldn't control myself. It was like something inside me made me do it. It made me stab Jonathan."

Buffy glared at him, her suspicions confirmed. "You just completely changed your entire story."

"Did not," Andrew retorted childishly.

Buffy scoffed, "Uh, you did so."

"Did— Hey, here we are." They'd reached the door leading into the chamber where the seal was located.

Buffy frowned, pressed her ear to the door. She heard something like chanting on the other side. "There's someone in there."

Andrew immediately turned away. "We should go."

Buffy grabbed him. "No. We are going in. Just be prepared, okay? The seal could've done anything to them."

She kicked the door open and rushed the two of them into the room before Andrew could protest. Five teens looked up from where they knelt around the seal. It had done something to them, all right. Their eyes were gone, replaced by symbols carved into their flesh, the fresh wounds gleaming wetly in the dim light cast by the seal.

"Nope," Buffy stared, "They're okay."

Spike bent down to pick up a wooden board from the floor. Several nails jutted from one end. "Wonder what's keepin' 'em," he muttered, "I thought they'd be up here by now." He examined the makeshift weapon. "How'd they make this in here, you suppose?" He tossed it to Robin.

The principal examined the board thoughtfully. "Woodshop, I guess. Nice to know they're paying attention in class."

Several teens chose that moment to attack. Robin swung the board at them, careful to hit them with the side that didn't have the nails. One particularly hard blow caused the board to shatter. Robin bent down and quickly snatched up a wooden shard. As he straightened, he noticed Spike standing with his back to him, leaning over to catch his unnecessary breath. On impulse, Robin saw his chance and decided to take it. He raised his impromptu stake and lunged towards the vampire's vulnerable back—and was promptly tackled by another attacking student. Spike turned and rushed to the principal's aid.

Buffy had put the camera down to free her hands. Andrew grabbed it and switched it back on. As he recorded the fight between the Slayer and the new-formed Bringers, he murmured, "She's like a woman fighting for more than life. She fights like fighting is her life. It is the air she breathes, and she knows she will win because there is no alternative."

In the end, her opponents were either unconscious or had run off. Buffy turned to Andrew and reached for something at the small of her back. "It's your turn, Andrew."

Andrew hesitated when he saw Buffy's hand reappear holding the dagger. He looked up from the camera's little screen and nervously backed away. "So, you figure, what? I, uh, I stand on the seal and hold the knife and, like, command it to stop glowing in Tuwarik?"

"Or we could do this." Buffy followed him as they circled the seal, her pace unhurried.

Andrew swallowed, "Do what?"

"Doesn't really make sense, does it?" Buffy said conversationally, "Bringing you here to talk to it? This thing doesn't understand words. It understands blood."

"Blood opens it," he argued, "You don't wanna open it. Opening it...would be bad."

"Yeah, Willow did a little research," her mouth stretched in a humorless smile, "Turns out, the blood of the person that awoke it—you—different kind of deal. It reverses the whole thing."

Andrew stumbled away from her, the camera at his side, forgotten. "How—How much blood are you gonna..."

She shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe not enough to kill you."

"So," he tried to bolster himself, "this is my redemption at last. I buy back my bruised soul with the blood of my heart. But—but not enough to—to kill."

"Stop!" Buffy's shout made him jump, "Stop telling stories! Life isn't a story."

Andrew stared at her, wide-eyed. "Sorry. Sorry."

"Shut up," Buffy sounded tired and frustrated, "You always do this. You make everything into a story, so no one's responsible for anything, because they're just following a script."

Andrew's chin trembled, making him look even younger. "Please don't kill me. Warren said Jonathan would be okay. I trusted him, and I lost my friend."

"You didn't lose him," Buffy snapped, "You murdered him."

"I know," tears started to well in his eyes, "You don't need to kill me. You said we could all get through this."

Buffy smiled bitterly, "I made it up. I'm making it all up. So, what kind of hero does that make me?"

"No, you're—you're doing great, really," Andrew stammered desperately, "Kudos."

"Yeah? Well, I don't like having to give a bunch of speeches about how we're all gonna live. Because we won't. This isn't some story where good triumphs because good triumphs," she declared with brutal honesty, "Good people are going to die. Girls. Maybe me. Probably you. Probably right now."

"Don't. Please." Andrew gasped as she suddenly grabbed him by the back of his shirt collar and thrust him towards the seal. He leaned precariously over the glowing seal, Buffy's strong grip the only thing keeping him from falling. "Don't, please!"

"When your blood pours out, it might save the world. What do you think about that?" she challenged, "Does it buy it all back? Are you redeemed?"

"No," he answered in a tiny voice.

"Why not?"

Andrew's face crumpled. "Because I killed him. Because I...I...I listened to Warren, and I pretended I thought it was him, but I knew—I knew it wasn't," he sobbed, "And I killed Jonathan, and now you're gonna kill me, and I'm—I'm scared and I'm going to die. And this...this is what Jonathan felt." He wept piteously, tears coursing down his cheeks. They dripped from his chin, onto the seal below, and the light flickered and died.

Buffy released her grip and let Andrew fall onto the inert seal. He looked up at her in shock. "It stopped."

"It didn't want blood. It wanted tears." Buffy reached down and helped him back up. "Sorry I had to—"

"You..." Andrew hesitated, "So, you weren't really gonna stab me, were you?"

Buffy's smile was gentle. "I wasn't going to stab you."

"What if the—the tears didn't work?"

She didn't answer, simply turned and led him out the door.

Robin and Spike were startled when the kids abruptly stopped their attack. It was like a switch had been thrown. The teens began wandering towards the exits, confused looks on their faces.

"What's going on?" Robin looked around, "She got it done."

"Always has," Spike stated with full confidence.

"So far," Robin muttered. He glanced at the vampire, thought about what he'd almost done. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, no thought behind the action. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Buffy and Andrew arrived, both looking worn down by whatever happened down in the basement. Robin tried to ask Buffy about it, but Spike cut him off, sensing that she wasn't up for conversation. She was emotionally drained, and needed time to herself. Spike would make sure she got it.

Andrew didn't say a word the entire ride back to the house. He didn't even use his camera, only held it in his lap. It was the last time anybody saw it. The next day, Andrew had put the camera away.

He did make one last recording that night. He sat in the bathroom, the camera pointed at him. His expression was serious, and more adult that it had ever been before, as was his tone when he spoke.

"Here's the thing. I killed my best friend. There's a big fight coming, and...I don't know what's gonna happen. I don't...even think I'm gonna live through it. That's, uh, probably the way it should be. I guess I'm..." his voice trailed off. A moment later, he reached over and turned off the camera for the last time.