“I don’t know, An. It’s just that it’s like helping the bad guys, even if they’re not bad.” Xander whined, watching what he just *knew* was a vampire prowling through a ‘dollar’ bin of uncharged amulets. “I mean, what if you end up selling something to a bad guy? Then what?”

Anya sighed. She’d had this conversation with every member of the Scooby gang except Spike, who was all for the expansion. “Xander, what happened when Giles sold supplies to bad humans, not to mention a hell god?” The former vengeance demoness had no qualms about selling to nonhumans. They were usually better customers anyway, and none of them came in proselytizing about her being some sort of Satan worshipper. Honestly, Satan? What could that guy do for anyone anyway?

Xander wandered away, keeping an eye on the suspected vampire. Anya giggled in spite of herself. Xander was partially right; the guy wasn’t human. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her fiancée that he was shadowing an incubus, however. The brunette man was probably doing the demon’s ego a world of good, and Anya knew the incubus well enough to know he needed some help in that department. She’d never met one so nervous and depressed before. The Hellmouth did funny things to people.

Spike sidled up next to the proprietor, cigarette dangling between ivory fingers. “Well, pet, looks like you’re doing well here. Must say, the new clientele is…fascinating.” He nodded his head toward Xander and the demon he was following. Anya just grinned.

“Yeah. And they spend so much money. It’s heartening, how capitalism can bring together disparate species.” The young woman returned to checking out customers, taking over for her new assistant, Tara. The blonde witch had answered Anya’s help wanted ad before it had been placed, and had been nothing but an asset since starting. Willow loved having her girlfriend around the Scooby hangout and Anya encouraged the redhead to help around the store when she came to flirt.

Xander sighed, losing sight of the evil bad guy he’d been following. Oh well, there was sure to be another one somewhere around. Taking leave of superheroing for a moment, the young boy took a seat next to Buffy, who was perched on the stairs, watching the crowd intently. It might have been daylight outside, but she, like Xander, was sure that some sort of evil would show up now that Anya had practically begged it to visit.

“Hey, Buffy. Find anything?”

Buffy turned, smiling at her friend. At least Xander knew how she felt about the shop. “No, but I’ve got this feeling. I mean, right now, Spike’s the only vamp here, but, well, you know.” Xander smiled in commiseration. He did know. The two watched Spike as he rifled through bric-a-brac and statuary, grinning at his muttered cursing.

The blonde vampire shuffled through a display of glassware. He bypassed the scrying crystals and cat’s-eye, focusing instead on a selection of exotic carved statues. They had a distinctively modern-art look to them; impossibly smooth, clear crystal with translucent streaks of color shot through. The surface was left in smooth curves and sharp corners. They were savage—he loved them. Now, just to decide on one for the crypt…

Spike made up his mind, plucking the small piece from near the back. Unlike the others, this one was devoid of color—the interior was filled with strange inconsistencies in the texture of the clear crystal. It reminded the vampire of swirling water. Cradling the piece in his palm, he made for the register. Normally he’d just pocket the thing and be done with it, but with Anya’s past, he figured he’d play it safe. Besides, it didn’t cost much, no more than a carton of smokes.

A sharp jab from behind sent the vampire lurching forward. He snarled, turning around to find himself face to face with Buffy. The vampire pulled his arm back reflexively, preparing to strike out. The Slayer grabbed his fist before he could try to strike her, even though she knew that with the chip he wouldn’t be able to.

Spike yelped when Buffy’s fingers crushed his hand. The crystal he held had sharp edges and the pressure made them cut deeply into his flesh. Yanking his hand away from the Slayer, he opened his fingers, surveying the damage.

“Christ, Buffy, what’d you do that for?” He looked down. The crystal was covered in his blood, and his palm sported seven long, deep puncture wounds. Oh well, he’d heal and the art piece would wash.

“Can it, Spike. Get out of here, would you?” Buffy spat, pissed that she couldn’t actually hit him in a room full of people.

“Sunlight, Slayer?” Spike pointed toward the window. “Don’t worry; I’ll be gone as soon as that stuff goes away.” The vampire stomped off toward the back room to wash off.

Spike thrust his hand under warm water, hissing as it came in contact with his wounds. They were not healing as quickly as he’d like. Must be the pig’s blood. The vampire picked up the crystal, rinsing it in the faucet.

He scrubbed his thumb over the surface, but the blood remained. Bringing it closer to his face, he peered at the piece. His blood seemed to have seeped into the crystal—none remained on the surface where it had fallen. Instead the entire crystal looked bloody. Well. Must say, it’s an improvement. He set aside the crystal, blotting his hand on a rag. Damned Slayer.

Retrieving the crystal, Spike exited the bathroom to find Anya. It was then that he noticed how warm the crystal was. The water had been heated, but the crystal should have cooled by now. He opened his hand again and gasped when he saw the crystal glowing with a pulsing light.

“What the—“