“Sorry, Cordy, Angelus was right. You did sorta suck.” Harmony gave Cordelia a smile which was meant to show comradely sympathy, but Cordelia tossed her head, offended.
“Because you could do so much better. With your super strength, and your shorthand, and your seventy words a minute typing. Yeah, you could act better than me. Right.” The tall brunette stood up. “I'll see you at the apartment tonight. Maybe.” She stalked out and slammed the door.
“It's eighty words a minute!” Harmony shouted after her, but then turned to Wesley, her face a picture of misery. “I didn't mean to upset her. She said she appreciated Angelus being honest. I was only doing what she said she wanted. How come it's all going so wrong? She was my role model, my bestest friend since like forever. I thought living with her, working with her, would be so cool, but I haven't even been here a month yet and things between us are getting so screwed up. I keep upsetting her, and I don't mean to.”
“She feels you're taking her place,” Wesley explained. “You've been a great help to us, both in the office and in fighting the monsters, but Cordelia is starting to feel that she doesn't have anything to contribute except the visions. She's wrong, she contributes a great deal, but I can see how she might feel that she isn't needed any more, since you joined us. Everyone likes to feel needed.”
“But I need her,” Harmony sniffled. “I need her to be my friend.”
“She is your friend. She just needs time to adjust.” The former Watcher smiled fondly at the vampire. “It is unfortunate that she can't act her way out of a paper bag, and that there is little possibility of her establishing a career outside of Angel Investigations, but I'm sure that we will be able to make her see that you are no threat to her position.”
“It's not your fault, Harmony,” Angel broke in. “By the way, do you think you could untie me now?”
“Do you mind? Having a conversation here, Boss,” Harmony scolded the souled vampire, who had so recently been temporarily restored to his unsouled ‘Angelus' incarnation.
“Might I remind you of the operative word ‘Boss' in that sentence?” Angel pointed out.
“Okay, sorry, but still not convinced you're not evil,” Harmony replied. A thought struck her. “Hey, I can be good without a soul. Spikey's good without a soul. How come you turn into a complete bastard whenever you lose yours? Why can't you just get along with people?”
“If I wasn't such a complete bastard, as you put it, without a soul, I'd never have been cursed with one in the first place,” Angel pointed out. “Come on, Harmony, Wesley, untie me.”
Harmony ignored him and turned back to Wesley. “But I am a threat to Cordy. I see that now. This isn't working. I want to go back to Sunnydale, back to Anya, and Buffy, and Spike, and Mr. Giles.”
“Perhaps you're right,” Wesley agreed. “Give it a week or two. We'll check with them to make sure it's safe for you to return, and do a bit more work on the Aikido to help you defend yourself against humans without harming them. I'm sure Cordelia will come round once she knows you won't be staying here for good.”
“Yeah, way to cheer me up, Wesley,” Harmony muttered. “Anyway, work to do, invoices to type. See you, Boss.” She walked away, followed by Wesley.
“Come on, Wesley, Harmony, untie me!” Angel called after them. The door closed. “Wes? Harmony? Guys?” Angel slumped back on the bed, gloomily staring at the chains which imprisoned him.
The door reopened, and Harmony walked back into the room. “Just kidding, Boss,” she smiled, and began to unfasten the chains.
“Were you kidding about leaving?” he asked her, flexing his fingers.
Harmony's face fell again. “'Fraid not, Boss. It's for the best. The firm isn't big enough for both me and Cordy, and I've got somewhere else to go. She hasn't. Wish I could stay, but I'd never forgive myself if I ended up pushing her out. Sunnydale here I come. Right back where I started from. Plus, there's this cute guy there I'd like to see again.”
“I'm certain of it, sir,” Riley Finn assured the Colonel. “These two are no threat to humans whatsoever. The Psych people agree. Anyway, what's the point of a behaviour modification and rehabilitation program if we're just going to keep them imprisoned forever?”
“Very well, Finn, I'll sign the order. Hostile 10, Matthew Drummond, and Hostile 22, Sandy Gray, approved for release. Now, about the other one, the one who escaped, Hostile 17. Harmony Kendall. You are absolutely certain about the source of your information?”
“Yes, sir. Harmony Kendall is in gainful employment in Los Angeles. Not only is she no threat to humans, she actively protects them from other HSTs. She would be willing to sign the same non-disclosure agreement as the other two in return for us calling off the hunt.”
“You know more than you're telling, son, I can see,” Colonel Havilland observed, looking shrewdly at the young man. “But I also know you're loyal, and dedicated, and whatever went on here before I took over is not my concern. Except for trying to clean up this whole Adam mess, of course. I'll sign the orders. We don't have the resources to waste on chasing the harmless. We've got a killer to catch, one we are responsible for, and that's got to be the priority. I've got the go-ahead from the top brass. I'm calling in a special outside consultant.”
“Do you mean who I think you mean?” Riley breathed, awestruck.
“Yep. The man himself. Jonathan Levinson.”
Buffy kicked the vampire in the kneecap, expecting to shatter it and bring her opponent down to meet her elbow strike, but the kick was off target somehow and the vampire only stumbled. The elbow blow only scraped across its face, and the follow-up stake was blocked. Another vampire punched her, and she fell back.
Meanwhile, Spike was having problems too. He was using his kukri, and his target was too tall to allow a clean decapitating strike. The blows he struck to cause the other vampire to double up were ineffective, and his slash missed the neck. A fourth vamp caught his arm, and wrestled with him for control of the knife. He threw the vampire off easily enough, but dropped the kukri in the process, and the last of the vampires snatched it up. The tall vampire grabbed Spike by the throat. He reached up over the arms, raked the vampire's face with his extended fingers, and brought his hands down sharply onto the arms to jerk the strangler into a head-butt. It worked perfectly, and the vampire reeled back with a shattered jaw, releasing his hold. Before Spike could press home his advantage the vamp with the kukri struck a vicious blow.
Buffy was about to stake one of the vamps when an agonised cry from Spike froze her in her tracks. She looked around, and saw her boyfriend staggering back, clutching his bleeding arm. His hand lay on the crypt floor, severed at the wrist. She gasped in shock. Before she could think what to do a vampire had grabbed her around the throat from behind and she had to fight for her life.
Spike spin-kicked the tall vampire and put him down, out of the fight for the moment. He dived for where his hand lay, but received a knee in the face and didn't reach it. The kukri swept down towards his neck.
Buffy took hold of one of the strangling hands, performed an Aikido step-turn ducking under the vampire's arms, and threw him. He crashed into the kukri wielder, knocking him away from Spike, who scrambled to his feet.
“Out! Let's get out of here!” Buffy yelled. Spike made for the door, closely followed by the Slayer.
The other Scoobies were waiting anxiously outside the crypt. “Sweet Jesus!” Xander exclaimed as he saw Spike's injury. “Are you all right?”
“Does it bloody look like it?” the English vampire snarled, his left hand clutching the bleeding stump of his right arm. He staggered away, Buffy following, the Scoobies covering the retreat with uplifted crosses and aimed crossbows. Jeers and laughter sounded from the crypt as they fled.
“Let's have a look at that arm,” Buffy ordered, once they were clear. It was bleeding heavily, and white bone protruded from the flesh. Buffy fought back the urge to vomit. “We need a tourniquet!” she called. “String, ribbon, anything.”
Xander produced some twine from his pocket, and passed it to Buffy. “You're not healing! Spike, why aren't you healing?” the young man asked his injured friend.
“Give yourself the Nobel Prize for observation, whelp,” Spike growled, as Buffy did her best to stop the bleeding. “Guess what's lying on the floor of the fucking crypt, on the sodding finger of my sodding missing hand.”
“Oh, no! We have to get it back!” Willow almost wept.
Buffy secured the improvised tourniquet, and stepped back. “We have to get you to Giles',” she said, tears in her eyes. “He should be able to come up with something better than this.”
“I said five was too many for you to take on at once,” Anya reminded them.
“Not now, Ahn,” Xander hushed her.
The injured vampire looked contritely at his friend. “Sorry I snapped at you, mate,” he apologised. “It bloody hurts, but that was no reason for me to take it out on you. It was me that fucked up.”
“Don't worry about it, man,” Xander replied. “Wound like that, you've got a right to be cranky.” ‘It must be absolute agony', he thought to himself. ‘Cranky? He's got a right to be rolling around on the floor screaming'. His respect for Spike grew to new heights.
“Will it heal?” Willow asked anxiously. “I mean, still got vampire healing, right?”
“Don't bloody know,” Spike confessed. “Never had anything like this happen to me before. My guess is yes, but it'll probably take a bloody long time. Maybe longer than the three months it took for my back to heal after Jonathan broke it.”
“Maybe it won't heal at all,” Buffy blurted out. “There was this vamp with a fork where his hand should have been, ‘cause the Master had cut it off him, so maybe things don't grow back after they've been cut off.”
Willow began to sob. “And he won't - be able to - go out in - daylight any more,” she choked out. “We have - to get - it back! We just have to!”
“We'd better do what I said we should have done in the first place,” Anya declared smugly. “We have to call in Jonathan.”
“Yes, it will grow back,” Jonathan assured them. “Slowly, it could take months, but it will grow back. If it had been cauterised, with fire or Holy Water, that would be another story.”
“So that explains Fork Guy,” Buffy commented. They had gone straight to Jonathan's mansion rather than to Giles', knowing that the young prodigy was as skilled at medicine as he was at combat, music, computing, acting, and demonology - in fact at everything.
“Exactly.” Jonathan examined Spike's injury more closely. “You'd better loosen the tourniquet periodically, otherwise there's a risk of necrosis. Totally dead tissue which wouldn't heal. That would have to be cut out, and that could be rather - unpleasant.”
“Yeah, I'll watch out for that. Thanks, mate - I mean Mr. Levinson.”
“Just call me Jonathan, Spike.” Jonathan sat down on the edge of his desk, his feet dangling well above the ground. “Now, let's get organised for retrieving your hand, and the Gem of Amara.”
“Okay, Jonathan, I'm in.” Willow looked up from her laptop. “Schematics for the crypt, part of the original plan for the cemetery. Sometimes there's a ...” Her face fell. “Oh, no back way in, just the one entrance.” Jonathan walked over and studied the screen over her shoulder.
“Well, maybe we can make that work for us,” Buffy said uncertainly. “I mean, no other way in, so no way they can run out with the ring except past us. That's of the good, right?”
“Or I bet,” Jonathan reached past Willow and touched the screen. “There. We can get in that way.”
“Of course. Why didn't I think of that?” Willow looked chagrined.
“I'm sure you would have.” He smiled reassuringly, and patted her shoulder, then turned to the others. “I think we have a plan.” Jonathan handed Xander a crossbow and tossed a stake to Anya. “Buffy, you go in first, let them get a look at the Slayer.” He tossed another stake to her. “Spike, you're in no shape to do much fighting. Stay behind Buffy and be ready to grab for your hand. Or, if it's not there, keep your eyes peeled for any of the vamps wearing your ring. That's something we need to be alert for.” He stepped over to where Giles had a chess board set up for their ongoing match and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Ah, the Nimzowitsch defence. Let's see if I remember,” he moved a piece, “yes, Mate in four. You almost got me that time, Rupert.”
“Xander, Anya, Willow,” he went on, returning to the main topic, “you back up Buffy and Spike. Be ready for an escapee wearing the ring. If a crossbow bolt doesn't work just try to trip the vamp, stop him getting away, and leave it to me or Buffy and Spike to finish him off. I'll be the surprise guest. Let's show these fiends they came to the wrong town.”
The second leg of the battle against the vampire nest was brief and one-sided. It hadn't occurred to them that there was anything special about the severed hand; they had placed it in a niche as a trophy and failed to notice the Gem of Amara, hidden as it was by Spike's fighting glove. When Buffy and Spike entered the crypt the vampires had attacked en masse, but had been taken completely by surprise by Jonathan's entry through the skylight and had been cut down before they could react. Jonathan dusted three with his pistol crossbow, Buffy staked one; Spike clotheslined the other as he tried to flee and presented Buffy with an easy kill. It took only a moment to find and retrieve the hand, and the party walked triumphantly from the crypt, Jonathan in the lead.
The usual crowd of reporters were there, eager to take pictures of the town's favourite son in the aftermath of dramatic action. Buffy and Spike walked at his heels unnoticed, Spike holding the hand to his wrist so that it appeared he had suffered only a minor injury. They left Jonathan to the reporters and rejoined the Scoobies, who had been displaced from their positions around the crypt by the arrival of the Press. They began to walk towards the graveyard's exit.
“So, Spike, putting the ring back on now?” Xander asked.
“Let's get back to Giles' first. I'll have to take this string off first, probably best if I have some decent light to see what I'm doing. Anyway, don't want to leave this sodding thing lying around where it might give someone a heart attack. Think I'll see if I can give Giles a hand.” Spike grinned, and wobbled the grisly body part around at the end of his wrist.
“Eww, Spike! Gross,” Buffy half moaned, half laughed.
“Got to hand it to you, Spike,” Xander chuckled.
Willow smacked him gently on the head. “Bad Xander, no biscuit,” she scolded him. “And you're as bad, Spike.”
“Could do something useful with this, maybe,” Spike mused. “Make it into a puppet and call it Mr. Punch.”
“Oh, God, Spike,” Buffy laughed. “Stop it!”
“Can't help it, love,” Spike told her. “Was shit scared. Need to relieve the tension. Speaking of which, come over here, mate.” He led Xander away from the girls. “Perhaps I'll keep this for a while,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, it could come in handy,” Xander suggested.
Spike grinned devilishly. “Exactly. Could use it for wanking, would feel like somebody else was giving me the hand job.”
“I know what you're talking about,” Buffy called, “and that is really gross.”
“Oh, yeah, and who's got a dirty mind for thinking it?” Spike retorted.
“Am I missing something to do with sex?” Anya asked, sounding annoyed.
“Just think yourself lucky you missed it,” Buffy advised her. Willow said nothing, but blushed scarlet.
Jonathan caught up with them at that point, and they sobered up. “A job well done, I think,” he greeted them. “Are you going to be all right, Spike?”
“Yeah, I think so. Thanks to you. Bleeding good day it was, when I decided it would be better to be on your side than fighting against you. Bet none of you ever thought the day would come when William the Bloody would be one of Wonder Jonathan's fluffy battle kittens, but I'm glad it did.”
“And I'm glad to have you aboard, Spike,” their idol assured him. “I used to think I'd end up turning you into instant soup mix, but it's great that you saw the light. You're a credit to the team, William. Just be a little less rash next time.”
“So, Spike held his arm out over Giles' bathtub, and Buffy took the tourniquet off,” Willow recounted to Tara later. “It started dripping blood again, which was yucky, but it stopped as soon as she put the ring on his other hand. Then the end of his arm started to grow, and fingers started to appear, and it was all back to normal in maybe two minutes. It was sort of horrible but fascinating to watch. Spike said ‘Bleedin' ‘ell, pet, oim a reel un-live reelly bad speshal effect!', and Giles said ‘I do hope you're going to wash that barth when you're finished bleeding all over it'. Buffy didn't know whether to laugh or cry.”
“I'd have cried,” Tara admitted, looking up from the montage of Jonathan photos on which she was working. “I can't bear to think of losing Spike. He makes me feel so safe. Oh, I know Jonathan makes us all safe, but he can't always be there for everybody. Spike fills the gaps. And he is my special friend. If I'd known someone like him when I was young, maybe I ...” her voice trailed off and she looked embarrassed.
“Maybe you wouldn't be into girls?” Willow asked, her lip trembling slightly.
“Hey, sweetie, you know it's you that I love,” Tara assured her. “And, anyway, I know you still carry just a little torch for him.”
Willow blushed slightly. “Well, maybe just a little,” she confessed. “Like maybe just a little still for Oz, even a tiny ember still for Xander. But you're the flame.” She reached out to her lover.
“And you're my only flame,” Tara responded, and their lips met. They clung together, the kiss growing hungry, and they sank down onto the bed.
“I just don't know what he sees in her,” Buffy moaned, adding cream to the coffee. “She's got bags under her eyes, and her ears stick out, and she doesn't dress well at all.” She added sugar, and stirred. “Although, she has got really great boobs. Stacked. Men like that.” She looked down at her own modest B-cups, stuck out her lower lip, and frowned. “And her whole face lights up when she smiles. And I'd really love to hate her, but she's such a nice person. But I hate it when Spike spends time with her.” She passed the coffee to Jonathan, and waited for a sign of his approval.
“Just the way I like it,” he smiled. “Buffy, you know what I think? I don't think this is about you resenting Spike's friendship with Tara, I think this about you resenting Willow's friendship with Tara.”
An autograph seeker interrupted them briefly. Jonathan signed the girl's notebook, and she moved on.
“No, it's not,” Buffy insisted, but she sounded uncertain. “Well, maybe it is. Willow spends as much time with Tara as she does with me, and I'm supposed to be her best friend. She even sleeps over at Tara's dorm when her roomie's away at her boyfriend's. Which would be okay if Spike would spend the night with me, but he still won't. Which is good, right, because Angel issues, also proves he's not just being good to get into my pa - my affections, but still hard to take sometimes.”
“You're Jonathan Levinson! Oh my God! Oh, my God!” Another, more excitable, autograph seeker stopped beside their table, a dark and pretty girl. She was clutching a copy of Jonathan's autobiography, ‘Oh, Jonathan'. “My name is Karen, and I think you're ... You're wonderful! Oh, my God!”
“Hi, Karen,” Jonathan greeted his fan. “Thank you. Oh, is that my book? Well, I could.” He took a pen from his pocket.
“Yeah, please. I - I didn't want to bother you. It's Karen, with a K.”
Jonathan signed the book, and passed it back to Karen, who gazed at it in adoration. “Thank you, oh, so much! Thanks!” Karen scampered off excitedly.
“So what do you think, Buffy? I mean, if I'm wrong, smack me. Karen with a K will lend you a book, and it's pretty heavy.” Jonathan smiled, and sipped at his coffee.
“No, you're not wrong. I have a Willow problem. I mean, I still wonder sometimes if she's still after Spike herself. Long time since Oz now, and still no other boyfriend. I'm not sure she's over Spike. Some of these times when Spike's with her and Tara, Willow might be making a bit of a play for him, using Tara as cover. Which is not to say I don't think Tara might not be doing the same.” She stopped for a moment, and tried to count up the negatives in what she had said, but lost track. “You know what I mean. Down side of having a hot boyfriend, I suppose.”
“Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Spike adores you. Anyone can see that. I had my suspicions right back when I saved you from him at Halloween. I thought then that it wasn't killing you that he had in mind. And these days it's real love that he has for you. Remember he's a Victorian Englishman. You gotta expect him to take it slow when it's the real thing. And trust him to be faithful. You guys are very special together. That's worth a little patience.” He stood up. “Well, our little talk has been nice, but I've got some appointments. See you around, Buff.”
Buffy paid for the coffees and left the shop. An odd feeling struck her; annoyance at Jonathan's occasionally patronising tone. She shook off the feeling. How could anything about Jonathan not be good and right? She walked past the billboard bearing Jonathan's image advertising sports shoes and headed for her dorm.
Colonel Havilland announced to the assembled Initiative agents that the special tactical consultant would be addressing them, and introduced Jonathan. There were mumbles of approval from the men as the renowned genius stepped forwards. They listened intently to his exposition of the Adam situation, and gasped in admiration as he told them of his discoveries.
“So,” Jonathan summed up, “Shooting the creature, even decapitation, is useless. His uranium power source is tiny, deep within the body, and protected by the skeleton. It was designed for use in space probes, it can take massive g-forces, and will last essentially forever. Only total annihilation of Adam will suffice.”
The men groaned quietly. It would be a formidable task. Still, what couldn't they achieve now that they had Jonathan on their team?
Karen wandered the environs of Jonathan's mansion, binoculars clutched in her hand, hoping to catch a glimpse of her hero. Suddenly a creature sprang at her. A hideous monster, ape-like in build, but hairless except for a long fringe of beard at its chin and a crest of hair running down its back from the nape of its neck. Its arms were grotesquely long, and fangs protruded from its mouth. She screamed as it knocked her to the ground. It loomed over her menacingly, and she flailed desperately with her binoculars, connecting by sheer luck. The blow knocked the creature to the ground, and she scrambled to her feet, and then ran for her life as the monster rose unharmed and attacked again.
“So, the way is clear for Harmony to come back to Sunnydale,” Riley told Jonathan, as they rode the lift out of the Initiative base. “Under her own name, no need for her to keep hiding. No reason for me not to ask her out. Other than her not being human.” He sighed, and frowned. “Do you think it's possible for a human to have a relationship with a vampire?”
Jonathan looked up at the Initiative agent, who stood a full foot taller. “In normal circumstances I'd say no, but Harmony isn't in normal circumstances.”
“Yeah, and Buffy and Spike seem to be doing all right,” Riley agreed. “But he can go out in the daylight. Harmony can't.”
“True, but I don't think it's an obstacle that can't be worked around, if you both want it,” Jonathan replied, smiling. He hadn't been sure how much Riley knew about Spike and was relieved that now he could speak freely. “I know Harmony, she was in my class at school, and she's always needed a good role model. Spike can be that for her. She'll make it and, if you work on it, I think you can make it together. And, as for the daylight thing, ask Giles to research the Jewel of Basra.”
“The Jewel of Basra?” Riley repeated. “What's that?”
“Ask Giles,” Jonathan told him again. “That's all I'm going to say on the subject. Well, I've got to go. I'm doing a guest appearance at the Bronze tonight.”
The Bronze was Southern California's premier venue for Swing and Big Band music. It seemed a lifetime ago that it played host to Alternative Rock performers and ‘Dingoes Ate My Baby' were the house band. The floor was filled with jiving couples as Jonathan sang and played trumpet, in a virtuoso performance, only to be interrupted by a soaked and bruised girl staggering up to the stage. Karen with a K, fleeing to Jonathan after her encounter with the monster.
Jonathan took her to his mansion to comfort her and question her about the creature. Buffy and Spike trailed along in their capacity as fluffy Battle Kittens, but took little part in the proceedings. Buffy didn't even pay full attention to Karen's description of the monster, and was feeling that she had wasted her time coming along, until Karen sketched a symbol she had seen on the creature's forehead and Jonathan reacted oddly. His voice shook, he licked his lips, and he hesitated too long before replying. It lasted only a moment, and then he was back to his smooth and confident self, but Buffy's interest was aroused. She even felt suspicious for a little while, but shook it off and scolded herself. How could anything about Jonathan possibly be suspicious?
“Well, you're the Evil Messiah guy, so, yeah,” the vampire acknowledged, bowing to Adam's superior knowledge. “Oh, hey, Boss, something you might wanna know. There's something new in town, strange monster, attacked a girl, caused a little fuss. Oh, yeah, he was there.” He gestured to one of the five TV screens in front of the cyborg demon, all of which were displaying different scenes from news footage of Sunnydale's world famous resident. “Jonathan.”
Adam looked at the screens uncomprehendingly. “Jonathan? Who is he?”
“You're kidding, right? Jonathan is - Jonathan.” The vampire pointed to a scene of Jonathan shaking hands with Yasser Arafat and Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak, who both smiled, only to return to scowling at each other as soon as Jonathan looked away. “He's the man.”
“These are lies.” Adam switched off the sets. “None of this is real. The world has been changed. It's intriguing, but it's wrong.”
“Feels okay to me.” The vampire looked around anxiously, and then stared at the blank screens. “Put them back on. He's appearing on ‘Letterman' with Jennifer Lopez.”
“You're under his spell just like the others.” Adam switched on one of the TVs and began flipping through the channels. Jonathan was on nine out of fourteen. “I seem to be the only one who's not.”
“Yeah, and what makes you so special?” the vampire retorted, and then winced. “Apart from being super strong, and indestructible, and super intelligent, and the total boss of us, and I'll do anything you say if you don't rip my head off, didn't mean to be disrespectful.”
Adam ignored the grovelling. “I'm aware. I know every molecule of myself and everything around me. No one - no human, no demon - has ever been as awake and alive as I am. You are all just shadows.”
“Oh. So, what are you going to do now? Hey, you could kill Jonathan!” The vampire shook his head, reconsidering. “Well, you could try. The guy's like this dynamo of action.”
“I don't need to do anything. These magics are unstable, corrosive. They will inevitably lead to chaos.” Adam grinned savagely. “And I am interested in chaos.”
Buffy and Spike had returned to the Bronze after leaving Jonathan's mansion, but the evening was essentially over. They didn't stay long, and walked back towards the campus with Willow and Tara.
“I guess you two have to go fight this thing, huh?” Tara asked.
“No go,” Buffy replied, making an effort to speak nicely to the other girl. “Jonathan said it was some brainless beastie and he'd take care of it himself. We're all safe.”
“Oh, cool,” Willow responded.
“I don't know.” Buffy shook her head. “He just seemed a little ... scared.”
“Huh!” Willow sniffed dismissively. “Buffy, this is Jonathan. He doesn't get scared. You talked about it when you gave him the Class Protector award at the Prom.”
“You're right.” Buffy lowered her head, deflated.
“Um, my exit,” Tara announced. “I'll see you tomorrow, Willow.”
“I'll walk over with you,” Spike offered.
“No you will not. You're coming back to Stevenson with us,” Buffy snapped, and then softened her voice. “I mean, Tara's a big girl, we know there's no danger around on campus these days, and you haven't had a good Buffy pampering to make up for your time as the One-Armed Boxer yet.”
Spike shot an irritated glare at Willow, somewhat perplexing Buffy, although Willow seemed to understand and dropped her eyes guiltily. He turned back to Buffy. “Sounds good to me. See you around, Glinda.”
Tara gave a shy smile and a wave, and walked off alone back to her room in Krege Hall. “Wish Willow would hurry up and come out of the damn closet,” she muttered to herself as she walked through the deserted corridors. “Then I could come out, and Buffy would know she doesn't need to be jealous of me and Spike. Willow was right, I do really like her, but she's starting to not like me.” Her musings were interrupted by the monster.
Tara opened the door of the janitor's closet cautiously when she heard her friend's voices calling for her, and peered out. Willow saw her and ran to her, and they fell into each other's arms. Spike and Buffy stood back a little.
“Are you all right, sweetie?” Willow asked, blushing as she realised that she had blurted out the endearment in front of Buffy. “What happened? You were so quiet on the cell phone, we couldn't really hear.”
“I was scared it would hear me.” Tara was shivering. “Monster. It was just outside the closet door. Was so scared.” She raised her eyes to Spike, who answered her silent appeal by going to her and putting his arms around both her and Willow. The redhead released her hold on her lover, leaving it to Spike to support her, and led the way towards Tara's room.
Buffy's eyes seemed to shoot fire as she glared at Spike but she restrained herself from saying anything hostile. “What was this monster like, Tara?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral.
“Big. Lumpy. Sort of a bald bearded ape. Had something on its forehead, like a Greek letter only not.”
Buffy frowned in thought. She searched her pockets for paper and a pencil, rested the paper against the wall, and drew the symbol that Karen had sketched. She showed it to Tara. “Was this it?”
Tara nodded. “Yes,” she confirmed. “Just like that.”
Willow raised frightened eyes to Buffy. “Jonathan said we were all safe. Jonathan said it. It has to be true. Doesn't it?”
Buffy spent the next day following up her suspicions. They were insane suspicions, but she couldn't shake them off. She looked on the Internet, she visited the University library, she even visited Xander's basement and persuaded Anya to let her study Xander's collection of Jonathan comics and memorabilia. While there she questioned the former Vengeance Demon on the topic of alternate realities. Although Anya's explanation was confusing, because of her habit of using the prevalence or otherwise of small crustaceans as an analogy for almost everything to do with probability, it did provide some corroborative evidence for the Slayer's hypothesis. Incredible as it seemed, Buffy was becoming convinced that there was something wrong with Jonathan. She was also becoming convinced that there was something going on between Spike and Tara, but that was a separate issue.
Buffy's Scooby meeting started off badly. No one could follow the points s he brought up about inconsistencies in Jonathan's background. How had he graduated from Medical School at 18 when he was at High School with them at the same time? How had he starred in ‘The Matrix' without leaving town? Buffy could see that this was impossible, but the others stared at her in blank incomprehension.
“I was just kind of wondering,” Buffy summed up, “if maybe anyone thought that Jonathan was kind of too perfect?”
“No, he's not!” Xander protested indignantly. “He's just perfect enough. He crushed the bones of The Master; he blew up a big snake made out of the Mayor; he gained Spike's respect, brought him over to our side, and converted the Big Bad into the best bud a guy could have; and he coached the US women's soccer team to stunning World Cup victory! We saw him doing all those things.”
“But that's just it!” Buffy huffed. “I'm not entirely sure we can trust our memories. Anya, tell them about the alternate universes.”
Anya obeyed, but her explanation veered off into the realms of marine biology and failed to clarify anything. Nobody was convinced. Even Spike failed to back Buffy, until Buffy accused Jonathan of bearing some responsibility for the attack on Tara, or at least of ignoring evidence.
“Go on,” he urged her, over Xander's objections. “Tell us more about this mark.”
“Uh, yeah. He knows something about the monster. He was reacting to the mark. I remember something. Giles, do you have a Jonathan Swimsuit Calendar?”
Giles denied it at first, but then admitted to having one, claiming it had been a gift, and produced it. Buffy flipped through the calendar until she found the picture in question. “There,” she announced. “That mark.” She pointed to Jonathan's shoulder, where a tattoo of a triangle enclosing a three-armed version of a Maltese Cross could plainly be seen.
“Why would Jonathan have the same mark as the monster?” Spike growled.
“I don't know, but he has got some explaining to do.” Buffy folded her arms triumphantly.
“If Jonathan put Tara in danger he's going down, superhero or not,” Spike declared coldly.
Buffy glared at him. “What is it with you and Tara? You're always thinking of her! I'm starting to think she matters more to you than I do.”
“Now, pet, it's not like that,” he tried to calm her.
“Isn't it?” Buffy turned her back on him so that he couldn't see that tears were starting to appear in her eyes.
“That bloody does it!” Spike snapped. “Bloody tell her, Willow. I've had it with this.” He turned a furious glare on Willow, who cringed. All other eyes were on the redhead as well, and she went crimson. “Come on, Red, out with it,” Spike demanded.
Willow took a deep breath. “Tara's gay,” she announced.
Buffy turned to her with a big smile. “Hey, cool. So, Spike and Tara, just good friends, really true. No more jealous Buffy.” Her brow wrinkled again. “But why was this your secret, Will?”
Willow swallowed hard. She concentrated on her breathing to stop herself from hyperventilating, and took the great leap. “Because, well, I'm kinda gay too.”
“So, that's why no boyfriend lately. Cool.” Buffy grabbed her friend in a big hug, relieved that her lingering suspicions of Willow were also allayed, but then realised that her action could be misconstrued and let go. “Not gay myself,” she said hastily. “But pleased for you. So Tara's your girlfriend? Which means I can be friends with her.”
“And I can be friends with you too, secure in the knowledge that you will be keeping your greedy hands off my Xander,” Anya added.
“Of course I support your lifestyle choices,” Giles chipped in, “but can this meeting be a little less Gay Pride and a little more relevant to Jonathan's mysterious connection to the monster?” At which point the door opened and the man himself entered.
“Is this a private conversation,” he noticed the swimsuit calendar open on the desk, “or can Mr. July sit in?”
“Willow was just telling us that she's gay,” Anya informed him. “So Buffy can stop worrying that she's trying to steal her Spike, and I can cast aside any lingering doubts that she might have any designs on my Xander. She's sleeping with Tara.”
Willow hunched her shoulders and she looked down at her shoes. “Anya, stop it!” she hissed. She had gone beyond embarrassment and into feeling that it would be a blessed relief if the floor opened and swallowed her into a pit of eternal fiery torment.
Buffy blushed. “Actually, that's not it,” she confessed. “I was just - I want to know about the mark. The monster. You said it was safe, and it wasn't, and you've got the mark, and I just don't understand.” Her confidence was evaporating now she was in the presence of the hero in person.
“Wouldn't mind a bit of explanation myself,” Spike backed her, a hint of a growl evident in his voice.
“Yes, you deserve an explanation,” Jonathan conceded. “I have a history with the creature. The monster. The problem is, every time I face it my mind becomes sort of confused. There's some kind of power it possesses.”
“You mean it's like your kryptonite?” Xander suggested.
“Maybe.” Jonathan tipped his head to Xander, acknowledging the aptness of the analogy. “I just know it takes all my energy to try and fight the confusion. That's why I had its mark tattooed on me, so I'd remember not to underestimate it next time.”
“Of course.” Giles had been polishing his glasses, but now he replaced them, looking relieved. “That does explain everything.”
‘No it doesn't,' thought Buffy, but she held back from saying so aloud.
“I knew you wouldn't do anything on purpose,” Xander grinned.
Willow grinned even more broadly, relieved to have the focus of attention shifted away from her sexual proclivities. “Me too. And that whole alternate universe thing was too freaky.”
“Maybe. But you should have bloody spoken up sooner, mate,” Spike admonished the superstar, not entirely mollified.
Buffy gathered her nerve, and spoke up. “Jonathan, why don't we go after the monster right now? Just you and me and Spike.” She cast a glance at her boyfriend, saw the hostility towards the heroic young man still simmering under the surface, and revised her suggestion. “Make that just you and me.” She looked pointedly at Spike, hoping he'd take her hint.
“I'm sure it's left town by now,” Jonathan replied, without his usual total confidence. “That's been its pattern. I don't know where it will be.”
“Think I can help there,” Spike offered. “I've been nosing around, bashing a few heads, asking around Willy's and the like, and I might have a lead. Those vamps who gave me the hands-off treatment came to town because they got kicked out of a cave in the hills behind Brookside Park. Must have been something tough, and I doubt if it was Adam. He'd have recruited them. Your monster's a pretty good suspect.”
“Thanks, Spike.” Buffy gave her boyfriend a cold smile. She guessed that he had failed to mention the lead earlier because he had intended to seek the creature out alone, and planned to have words with him about that later. She let it pass for the moment, and turned back to Jonathan. “So, let's go.”
“Sure. Let's do that.” Jonathan led the way from the apartment, the confident smile back on his face. At least on the surface. Buffy was no longer sure how genuine it was.
The Scoobies slipped into research mode after they left. Xander and Anya didn't really know why. Neither did Giles, but he seized any opportunity to pore over obscure books and dusty tomes; he needed only an excuse, not a reason. Spike and Willow were more committed, Buffy having planted at least a seed of doubt in their minds. It was Willow who finally found something.
“Hey, I found the mark,” she informed everyone, smiling proudly. “It's part of an augmentation spell. Her face fell. “Jonathan did an augmentation spell.”
“What'd he augment?” Xander asked.
“Him! And how we see him. This spell turns the sorcerer into a sort of paragon, the best of everything. But there's a drawback.”
“Isn't there always?” Xander remarked.
“Yeah, that's the thing about magic. There's always consequences,” Spike agreed. He frowned, tilted his head to one side, and shook himself.
Giles stood behind Willow's chair and read over her shoulder. “Yes. In order to balance the new force of good the spell has to create the opposing force of evil, the worst of everything, everyone's nightmare.”
“He created the monster,” Anya extrapolated.
Xander missed the point. “So, he did this spell just to make us think he was cool? That is so cool.”
“But Buffy and Jonathan are going after this nightmare thing,” Willow pointed out. “The worst of everything, and it confuses Jonathan. Are they gonna be okay?”
“It seems that the well-being of this creature is linked to Jonathan,” Giles observed. “If it dies the spell is broken and Jonathan reverts to ... well, whatever he was before.”
Anya was first to make the logical deduction. “Jonathan isn't going to want Buffy to get very far.”
“No, no, Jonathan is good,” Xander protested. “He might warn it off, maybe.”
Spike looked murderous, but kept his mouth shut.
“I'm scared,” Willow told them. “Everything's gonna change. What's the real world like?”
“I would think pretty much like this one,” Giles reassured her. “Nothing much will change, except that Jonathan won't be Jonathan. Not our Jonathan, anyway.”
“But what about things Jonathan has done?” Willow went on. She looked at Spike.
Xander followed her gaze, and his face paled. “No, no,” he repeated. “We can't lose our buddy Spike. I mean, just ‘cause Jonathan converted him. Still have happened, some other way, right?” He looked at Giles pleadingly.
Giles took off his glasses, and Xander's heart sank. “I sincerely hope so,” the Watcher said as he began the cleaning ritual. “But I'm afraid I can't give you any definite assurance. We must consider the possibility that William the Bloody may return.”
“Sodding Hell, Watcher, thought we were past all that,” Spike complained. “You bloody trust me, don't you? Don't you?”
“Oh, I'd trust you with my life a thousand times over, Spike,” Giles began, cleaning his lenses furiously. “At least as I know you now. The trouble is I can't trust my memories.”
“Oh, that's just fucking great,” Spike swore. He pulled the Gem of Amara from his finger and placed it on the table. “Get the bleeding crossbow out. If the spell breaks and I turn bad just bloody dust me.”
“No!” Willow gasped, horrified. She rushed to Spike and climbed onto his lap, placing herself as a human shield against a non-existent crossbow. “We are not going to lose you. I won't let them dust you.”
“No dusting,” Xander promised. “We can make some sort of truce, right? Even if you go back to being all evil, a deal. We don't dust you, you walk out without eating us. And we meet up next week to watch the Skating World Championships on TV like we planned, no stakes, no biting.”
“That's a daft idea, Harris, and you know it,” Spike retorted. “Not that ideas being daft ever stopped me when I was evil, I suppose. Okay, deal. Hang onto the sodding ring until we know what's what. If it was the spell which made me good then I walk out, I don't kill anyone, I keep on the beef blood until after the Skating Gala. Then I leave town. Kept to the deal with Jonathan to fight Angelus, didn't I?” He shook his head again. “Or at least I think I did. Who bloody knows what really happened? Maybe I'll be all untrustworthy. Just stake me good and proper if I go evil. Simpler.”
“This is all unnecessary,” Anya told him. “Why would Jonathan's spell have brought you onto our side? You're just a rival for some of the limelight. You have to have joined us for some other reason. Probably because you fell in love with Buffy. Or because you recognised the value of Xander's friendship.”
“That is logical,” Giles agreed. He replaced his glasses, and Xander began to breathe easier. “I think we can rest easy on that score. You can get off Spike's lap now, Willow.”
Willow pouted. She liked sitting on Spike's lap. Nevertheless, she complied reluctantly. Too reluctantly for her own peace of mind. “So, what now?” she asked, with forced cheerfulness. “Think Spike should chase after Buffy and Jonathan to be back-up?”
“No use. They've got too big a head start.” The vampire shook his head. “I know! We'll all sit around nervously waiting for me to turn evil.”
Giles smiled. “I am sure that will not happen. Anya is right. It is most unlikely.” The smile vanished. “Even that unlikely eventuality could only occur if Buffy destroys the monster, and she's never stood alone before something like this before. Even if Jonathan doesn't oppose her he is unlikely to assist. I honestly don't know if she can do it. I hope she will be all right.”
“Hope's a powerful thing, Rupert. You'd be surprised.” Spike raised his head and spoke with calm confidence. “It's what's kept me going through some tough times lately. Every time things have looked really bleak something has given me hope that it'd come out okay, and it always has. Never lose hope.” He seemed to have suddenly cheered up, and was smiling broadly as he made his next suggestion. “Anyway, not much we can do about it now, and no sense in sitting around brooding, so - anyone up for a game of Scattergories?”
With every blow Buffy struck she felt her power and her confidence growing. She was the Slayer. The Chosen One. Five normal vampires, against her and Spike together? They should have been straws in a hurricane, to be swept away without a thought, not a major challenge that had almost defeated them. Her theory was confirmed. Jonathan was not what he seemed, and some of his abilities were rightfully hers. Now she was getting them back.
The monster was still a formidable opponent. Strong, tenacious, durable. It wasn't surprising that the vampires had fled when it claimed these caves as its domain. It had nearly beaten her early in the fight and only Jonathan's intervention had saved her. He was unlikely to intervene again. As the monster grew weaker so did he. Clumsier, less skilful, less courageous. No longer a pocket Hercules, now just a normal guy; an extremely short one.
Buffy saw an opportunity to knock the creature into a deep chasm, and lunged forward just as the monster stumbled and fell sideways. She missed her target, went off balance, and a long arm lashed out and knocked her from her feet. Buffy sprawled close to the ravine's edge, wide open to the monster's attack, but Jonathan hurled himself to the rescue. He shoulder-charged the beast, sending it tumbling to its doom, but was unable to stop and followed it over the edge. Buffy caught his leg and stopped his plunge.
And the world changed.
It was a sunny day, and Xander and Anya went over to the University to join Buffy, Spike, Willow and Tara for a picnic lunch on the campus lawns. The conversation inevitably concentrated on the recent events in the Jonathan-centric alternate universe.
“So, I logged on to Jonathan.com,” Spike told the others, “and it was a site of walkthroughs for console games. Sonic the bleeding Hedgehog.”
“You surf the internet?” Willow asked, surprised, beating Buffy to the same comment by a small margin.
“Was using a computer before you were, pet,” the vampire smirked. “Had a Sinclair ZX-81 back before you were on solid food. Had a Commodore C64 for ages, then I carried an Amiga 600 around for 5 years before I had to leave it in Prague. Haven't owned one since, but I use the ones in the College. Not in your league, of course. Not much of a hacker, can't program in anything more recent than Amiga BASIC, and that doesn't cut much ice these days.”
“Still cool, though,” Willow responded, impressed, and also relieved that her position as Scooby computer expert was still unchallenged. She was about to ask more, but Anya broke in with a question about who really starred in ‘The Matrix'.
It took a minute of hard memory-searching for the gang to decide between Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves. They moved on to puzzle over other elements of reality. The Jonathan autobiography that Anya had been reading obsessively had been replaced by Susie Bright's ‘The Best American Erotica 1999', which led to some intriguing speculation as to the true nature of Giles' Jonathan Swimsuit Calendar.
“I'll always remember the way Jonathan made me feel,” Xander sighed. “Valued, respected, sort of tingly. Now I'm just empty.”
“Poor Xander,” Buffy commiserated insincerely. She was well aware that he was kidding. “I guess Jonathan hurt you most of all.”
Tara raised her hand. “Umm, me?” she pointed out.
“Except of course after Tara,” Buffy corrected herself.
“Hang on, let me put my hand up too.” Spike feigned picking something up from the grass, and then raised his right arm with his left hand grasping the wrist, and flapped the right hand limply.
“Oh, stop it, Spike,” Buffy scolded him, grinning. She punched his shoulder lightly. “You might have dropped the kukri anyway, you can't blame Jonathan for that.”
“'Course I can, love. Might not be fair to blame him, but I can if I want to.” Spike turned the hand towards his face. “Can't I, Mr. Punch?” Buffy, Willow, and Tara all gave him a shoulder-punch for that one.
“Well, there's the man himself,” Xander announced. He gestured towards the University main entrance, where Jonathan was standing forlornly. Gone were the sharp suits, the crisp shirts, and the black polo-necks. The erstwhile superstar was now clad in a hideous yellow sweatshirt and crumpled jeans, and it was now apparent just how short he really was. Barely taller than Buffy. Students who had been clamouring for his autograph the previous day were walking past him without even noticing his presence. He was gazing at the Scooby Gang with longing, like a child outside a toyshop window when the pocket money had already been spent.
Buffy stood up and set off towards him. Spike took a lazier option, waving him over and yelling “Oi! Jonathan! Come over here, mate.”
Jonathan approached hesitantly. Buffy met him half way, and made him explain to her how he had been able to do the spell. She scolded him for manipulating everyone, but gently. She could sympathise with his motivations, although not with the way he had gone about achieving his ends.
Spike greeted Jonathan warmly. The others were less warm, but not hostile, and Jonathan sat down with them on the grass. “I thought you'd hate me,” he said to Spike.
“Nah. I know what it's like to be on the outside. Did some bloody stupid things myself ‘cos I wanted to be liked, to get some respect. Caused a lot more damage than you did. Not going to hold it against you. But no more magic short cuts, right? You want some friends, do it the hard way. Be likeable, and people will like you.”
“I don't have the right stuff,” Jonathan admitted. “I don't know what to say to people. I want to be cool, but I can't cut it.”
“You can be better than you think,” Spike told him. “See, the monster was supposed to balance all the good things you got. Well, you were a superstar; music, singing, films, books, world affairs, the bleeding lot. Could fight better than the Slayer, knew more about demons than Giles, you were a bloody marvel. You'd have expected it to need sodding Godzilla to balance out that lot. And what did we get? A bald ape with a tatty beard. There must be a fair bit of potential in you anyway, you just haven't used it. Think about it.”
Willow decided to join Spike in building Jonathan up. “Hey, that was a major spell. Not cool with how it worked out, but, hey, I've screwed up some spells myself. You should get together with me and Tara some time. Maybe we could learn something from each other.” Tara was not overly keen on the idea, but went along with Willow's suggestion nonetheless.
“Hey, I remember the word at school was that you had the biggest comic collection of anybody,” Xander added his two cents' worth. “Some time when Ahn's busy we should get together, see if we could do any swaps.”
“Me and Xander are going to be watching the Ladies' programmes of the ice skating next week, when the World Championships are on telly. Without the girls, so that we can make really crude comments without getting slapped. Fancy joining us?” Spike invited.
Buffy was surprised by the total lack of animosity towards Jonathan that Spike was displaying. The would-be superhero had, after all, been responsible for Tara being knocked down, pursued, and trapped terrified in a closet by a ravening monster. On past form she would have expected the vampire to have hung the young man from a tree by his intestines, or at least to have wanted to do something along those lines. She could only assume that Spike drew parallels between Jonathan's motivations and his own. He had given away little about his human life, although she knew he had been a student of Classical literature at Oxford. Had he been the Victorian version of a nerd, an outsider, ignored or ridiculed by his contemporaries? When he said that he had done stupid things to get respect was he referring to his becoming a vampire? She resolved to investigate further, but carefully. Spike could be touchy about such inquiries, and there were areas of his past about which he flatly refused to talk.
Anya took the conversation along different lines. She asked what had happened to Jonathan's mansion. He explained that it had reverted to being the derelict shell, abandoned during the Great Depression, that it had been before; and lamented the departure of the two beautiful Swedish sisters who had shared it with him.
“The twins moved out,” he said sadly.
“You were sleeping with two sisters? That's just icky,” Willow chided him. “Because if they ...” she went bright red and her voice trailed away. “Gross,” she finished lamely, and turned away to hide her flaming cheeks. The others assumed she was embarrassed by the idea of Jonathan in threesomes with two girls, but this was not the real reason why she was so affected. She had suddenly thought of sharing a bed with Tara and Spike. The things the three of them could do with each other, including things which sisters couldn't do. ‘Bad Willow, no biscuit,' she scolded herself silently. ‘Gay now, must remember, gay now.' She shut away the other voice in her head and refused to listen as it told her ‘Bi now, bi now.'