It was dusk. There was a soft tapping on the stone of
the crypt.

Spike pulled the skeletal feet higher over his head.
Those sodding soldier boys again. As consciousness
slowly returned, he rejected that idea. Soldier boys
didn't knock. Those bloody American kids, wanting his
help. Bugger that for a game of soldiers. <<Got to
find a new phrase for that now...>> He lay still,
hoping the intruder would lose interest and leave.

"Spike... I know you're in there, it's still daytime!
Can I come in?"

It was the witch's voice. <<Right again, worse
luck.>> "GO AWAY!"

Footsteps came in. "If you really don't want people
to know you're there, it isn't smart to yell at them."

Spike's temper, never under tight control, exploded.
He pushed the corpse aside, sat up, vaulted out of the
sarcophagus, strode over to the redhead, and glared
down at her. Another good day at
Unthreatening-Clothes-R-S, he noted.

"Let's get one thing clear, Pet. I am not your
friend. I am not your ally. If it were up to me,
you'd be dead. Not slightly dead, not interestingly
pale, not crying on my shoulder about your sodding
dogboy, but drained and gone. So get your mortal arse
out of my sight; whatever you're peddling, I'm not
interested."
 

The wide green eyes went wider, and, to his disgust,
Spike recognized Willow's "Nobody loves me" face, an
expression with which he had become all too familiar.
"Didn't you want to turn me?"

He pretended he hadn't noticed. "Witch, you have the
most amazing gift for focusing on the irrelevant.
Turn you into what? I'm not a bloody fairy granting
bloody wishes."

"I thought you offered to make me a vampire." She
looked ridiculously like a kitten begging for a treat.

Spike was in no mood to oblige. "Right now, I'd like
to make you into a rapidly-fading memory, but as we
both know, that's out of the question at the moment.
Now will you kindly leave?"

Willow drew herself up to her full height, a gesture
that would have been significantly more impressive had
it been executed by a woman of height. "I'm sorry I
interrupted your important nap, then. Okay, I'm
going. I just wanted to tell you that I'd thought of
something that might help with your little problem."
She turned on her heel and began to walk toward the
door.

Spike snorted. "No more magic, thanks so very much.
If I was really lucky, you'd disappear for good. More
likely, I'd find myself shagging the Watcher. No,
I've sworn off spells for the remainder of the
century, especially when cast by incompetent
amateurs."

Willow spun back to face him. "Incompetent amateurs?
Fine. STAY neutered. We all love hearing you tell us
how evil you are. It's loads of fun, nearly as good
as hearing you complain about how boring we all are.
At least we're trying to - to do something useful, not
just whining all the time!"

Spike grabbed her fuzzy pink shoulders hard. "Go.
Away. Now." He began to shake the witch.
Unfortunately, he didn't temper his strength, Willow
shouted "Ouch!", and suddenly his head was taken over
by the Sisters of Pain.

When Spike could focus his eyes again, he was sitting
on the ground with his head between his knees, and
Willow was squatting beside him, a concerned look on
her face.

"That can't be good for you. You know, too much
painful stimulus, and the brain starts to reconfigure
synapses to avoid it."

"Which means that it would be a really, really good
idea to get you OUT of my bloody sight so I'm not
tempted to do it again! What do I have to do to get
you to leave?" His voice cracked on the last word.
<<Haven't done that in a hundred-odd years.
Wonderful, vampire second adolescence. Somebody stake
me now.>>

Willow gave him her best serious look. "This isn't
magic. What's wrong with you has nothing to do with
the dark arts. It's psychological, or actually
psychomedical. I eavesdropped when Riley was talking
to Buffy. They put something into your head, to cause
pain whenever you tried to hurt something. It's sort
of operant conditioning, only done with computers."

"Swell. So I can thank Bill Gates instead of Hecate
for these headaches. Now that you've delivered that
little Valentine, can I hope for your departure before
I test it again?"

"You don't understand, Spike. If this is
computer-related, I'm pretty sure I know how to fix
it."

"And why should I trust your computer skills to be
more effective than your magic skills?"

"Because you're so tired of being helpless that you're
willing to take the chance."

****

"And why should I trust your computer skills to be
more effective than your magic skills?"

"Because you're so tired of being helpless that you're
willing to take the chance."

The kitten, it seemed, had teeth. His, however, were
sharper. "When I want your -- or any other human's --
sympathy, it will be time to go admire the sunrise.
Now sod off!"

The redhead flounced out of the door, and Spike
dropped his head back into his hands. He had a
horrible suspicion that she was right. Another few
days of being the laughingstock of Sunnydale's
netherworld, and he might well be desperate enough to
ask for her help. That idea was almost as loathsome
as the Sun itself.

***

Willow frowned at her laptop. Another pointer gone
mad, spewing data all over memory. If only her CS
professor didn't insist that assignments be written in
C...

There was a knock on the door. Willow sighed, put
down the laptop, and got out of bed. After that
fall's unpleasant incident, she'd stopped shouting
"Come in!" sight unseen. She padded barefoot to the
door and said "Yes?"

"Open the door and let me in!"

Willow couldn't resist. "Not by the hair of my
chinny-chin-chin!"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Willow threw the door open to see
Spike's rapidly-retreating back. She ran after him.

"Wait, I was only joking, it's been a long evening of
debugging and you were the one who started it,
anyway..."

Spike turned and scowled. <<Nice taste in nightwear.
If you're six. What, they were out of footie
pajamas?>> "Somehow, quoting nighty-night stories
doesn't inspire great confidence. Can't imagine why.
Perhaps it's the pig-tailed innocence, perhaps it's
the inanity."

"And you need confidence in me because...?"

"Forget it." Spike turned away, but was slowed by a
small hand grabbing his duster. He whirled and
slapped it, only to fall to his knees in agony.

Willow snatched the erring hand back to her chest.
"Look, we have to talk. We can't do it in the middle
of the hall, and I don't want to do it where Buffy
might interrupt. Give me five minutes to change, and
I'll meet you at the coffee shop downtown; it's open
late."

"All right. You have five minutes." <<I'm still in
control here. If she's late, I'll leave.>>

***

Sunnydale was a small town, and Willow, if not a
snappy dresser, was at least a speedy one. She
arrived, slightly out of breath, at the coffee shop a
minute before her self-imposed deadline. She scanned
the seating area anxiously, and found Spike scowling
in a corner booth. She ordered a decaf latte, waited
for it to be made, oblivious to the counter worker's
attempts to flirt, and took her cup back to the booth.
This early in the semester, there were few students
desperate enough to pull all-nighters; they had the
shop to themselves, except for the bored counterman,
who had returned to his copy of the Necronomicon.
(You can find *anything* on a Hellmouth.)

Starting conversations was always so difficult. Willow
looked hopefully at Spike, who was staring pointedly
into his empty espresso cup. <<Why does the shy
person always get stuck doing the talking?>> She took
a sip of her latte, then peeked over the bowl at the
vampire. Still staring into the cup. <<Boy, those
must be some fascinating dregs. I wonder if you can
tell fortunes from coffee grounds as well as tea
leaves? I should ask Giles. Of course, he probably
wouldn't approve, so maybe I should just look it up
myself the next time I'm at his place...>>

Spike cleared his throat pointedly. <<This wasn't my
idea. You asked for the meeting, you begin it.>>

Just when it looked as if the narrator was going to
have to intervene, Willow gave up the contest. "So,
how's the whole biting problem?"

Spike growled. "Do you think we'd be having this
conversation if it had cleared up? I suppose *I*
could be having the conversation, but I never much
liked monologues. You'd be in no condition to
participate."

"Why do you keep threatening the person who's trying
to help you? I mean, I know being scary is part of
the whole vampire thing, but it doesn't make a lot of
sense right at this moment. Why should I help you,
if you're just going to kill me?"

"Good question, Witch. I never did trust altruists.
Why *should* you help me? What's in it for you? Got
somebody you want disposed of? Planning a dramatic
suicide to get the Slayer's attention away from her
new beefheaded boytoy? In either case, count me out,
thanks."

Willow swallowed hard. "Buffy is my friend, and I'm
glad she's found somebody to love. And -- and this
isn't about me, it's about you.

"I never liked zoos, even when I was little. Even
aside from the whole frog thing, I felt so sorry for
the wolves. They just paced and paced and paced, in
this little tiny cage, and they never got anywhere,
and they never looked like they were having any fun.

"And I always thought, wolves should be wolves. Maybe
they do eat Bambi, and maybe they'd eat me and Xander
if they got the chance, but they don't belong in
cages. It's one thing to shoot a wolf that's trying
to kill you. It's different to make that wolf
miserable for the rest of its life, just so
elementary-school kids can see what a really unhappy
wolf looks like. It's wrong.

"Right now, you're the wolf. You even pace like one.
And I hate it. And I can't stake you, because you
aren't trying to kill me, right this minute. So that
doesn't leave any other good choices. So I guess I
unlock the cage."

She took another swallow of the latte to avoid Spike's
face, and the contempt she was sure she'd find there.
Eww, there was a skin on the top, and the drink
underneath was lukewarm. <<Not only am I making a fool
of myself, I'm drinking stale coffee-flavored milk. I
wish I were back home with my laptop!>>

Spike laughed. Not happily, but it was a laugh.
"High-mindedness gets you killed, princess. This is
real life, not a fairy tale. If you set the wolf
free, he isn't going to turn into a noble prince."

Willow looked across the table. For once, Spike
wasn't sneering, and his face was serious. "I know.
You're our enemy, and that isn't going to change. But
I have to play by my rules, even when I know that you
won't. Otherwise I'm no better than the things I'm
fighting.

"But I'm not stupid, Spike. I'm not going to help you
get rid of that chip, unless I can make sure you'll
leave my friends alone. If we're going to end this
truce, it can't be with you murdering all of us.

"I'm pretty sure I know how to set you free. That's
the easy part. What I can't figure out is how to open
the cage without being eaten by the wolf." She raised
her eyes and met Spike's full-on. "I thought you
might be able to help with that part."

***

Spike was taken aback. << She makes it so easy to
write her off. So easy to overlook the brain under
the diffidence and the mannerisms and the baggy orphan
clothes.>> "Pet..." For once in his afterlife, he was
at a loss for words.

He tried again.

"Witch... You want *me* to tell *you* how to keep me
from killing you? Isn't that a bit optimistic?
What's to keep me from lying?"

Willow nodded. "You see the problem. It's sort of
like knights and knaves."

Spike cocked the scarred eyebrow. "Knights? Knaves?
Are we back in fairy tales, luv?"

Willow sighed. "It's a kind of logic puzzle. Knaves
always lie, and knights always tell the truth, and you
run into somebody, and you don't know if he's a knight
or a knave, and you only get to ask one question, and
you need to ask a question that will give you the
right answer whether he's a knight who tells the truth
or a knave who lies. I really like those puzzles, but
I'm not sure how to apply them to vampires, because a
simple 'Yes' or 'No' doesn't really help here."

Spike nodded gravely. <<Now there's a piece of mortal
knowledge I could have used. Although lying all the
time is straightforward compared to most demons I've
met.>> "So what you need is a way to get a trustworthy
solution from somebody you don't trust."

Willow's entire face lit up. "Exactly. And I
thought, because you've spent your life -- well, your
afterlife -- around demons, you must have had to make
deals with people -- uh, demons -- you couldn't trust
before, and you could tell me what the procedure is."

Spike sighed. "I'm going to need a cigarette to think
this one out, and the tosser up front called the
police last time I lit up in here. Care for a walk?"

"Okay." Willow looked distastefully at the remains of
her latte, then got up and carried the cup and saucer
over to the bin. Spike headed for the door without a
backward look; sighing, Willow dropped a tip on the
table, scooped up his espresso, carried it to the bin,
and followed in his wake. <<Boy, that coat sure can
make an effective exit. Of course, it does hide...
Stop that, brain! Bad thoughts!>> By the time she
reached the door, he was ten feet away, in full
stride, cigarette glowing in the night.

Willow scurried to catch up. "Hey, wait up!"

Spike looked back disdainfully, never slackening pace.
"Do you want the information, or don't you?" << Can't
let the chit know she's holding all the cards.>>

Willow bit her lip. << Who is helping whom here? >>
"Where are we going? Because I need to be home in
time to get some sleep tonight."

Spike suppressed a grin. "Dunno. Around. I think
better on my feet. So, the question is, how can you
trust me when you know I'm evil?"

"Yes. But it isn't a lifetime trust. It's just a
trust about one specific question. What do you do
when you need to trust another demon?"

"I don't. Wouldn't have lasted this long if I did.
Stupid question."

Willow stopped still. "Are we having this
conversation, or aren't we? Because if you're going
to waste my time, I could be tracking down a memory
leak, something that I can actually make progress at."

Spike strode on without a backward glance. "We're
having this conversation, as long as you don't ask
stupid questions. Bore me enough, and I'll just keep
on -- pacing, was it?"

Willow sighed, and hurried once more to catch up. <<I
am NOT going to ask him to slow down again. I can
just walk fast. Short legs really bite sometimes.
His just keep on going...>> "Okay. Sometimes you need
something from another demon. How do you get it?"

Spike gave her a wolfish grin. "Well, beating him up's
always favourite."

"Now who's being stupid? I couldn't beat you up if I
had -- "

"You could try..." The grin became somewhat more
carnivorous, then faded. "Usually, you don't
negotiate unless the two parties are matched. If one
party is significantly stronger, he just takes what he
wants; no muss, no fuss. Not practical here...
There's always hostages."

"What?" Willow gulped. "I've been a hostage. I
didn't like it. And anyway, I can't think who could
be your ...." << Uh, oh. I can think, actually, and
we shouldn't go there. Besides, she isn't here, and I
could no more keep her prisoner than I could beat up
Spike.>> Before he could reply, she continued, "I
can't keep a hostage, because I couldn't hurt the
hostage if you hurt me. It would be wrong."

Spike sighed theatrically. "Pity you spotted the
catch there, luv. So, no force, no hostages ... you
really do need a credible threat. Basic requirement
of living, ducks. Or unliving."

"The credible part is the problem. Where are you
going?" They were rapidly running out of town, and
chip or no chip, Willow didn't like the idea of being
alone with Spike outside civilization. << And I am
not going into the cemetery after dark without Buffy
or Giles.>>

Spike glanced around. "Nowhere, pet. Like this
conversation."

Willow snorted. "In that case, you can walk me back
to the dorm." Spike raised an eyebrow, but she
continued, "You walked me out here, you can walk me
back to safety." Borrowing a trick from his book, she
turned around and strode off without looking.

Spike stood watching her for a moment. <<Do I let her
win one, or do I call her bluff?>> Before he could
decide, the witch spun around, her face alight.

"Spike! I can't hurt people, but I can hurt things!
You could give me a -- a thing hostage! Something
that you want, but that I could damage! Like your
coat!"

Spike began closing the gap between them. "Pet... If
I grabbed Chubs and you had my coat, which one do you
think would bleed longer?" Suddenly he loomed over
her, reminding her how fast he could move at need.
<<I do hope that chip's still working...>>

"Oh." She hung her head, and they walked a block or
so in silence.

Spike thought. <<If I don't let her win, I lose. Bit
tedious, having to play both hands myself.>> "The only
other bargaining chip I can think of is pride.
Sometimes the weaker party can blackmail the stronger
party." <<Strong enough hint for you, luv?>>

Willow's brow crinkled. "Hmm. I could tell the other
vampires ... no, I'm not getting near any more
vampires , one's plenty. Or two, if you count Angel,
but he isn't here any more..." Her voice trailed off.

Spike remained silent, slowing to match her pace. <<
Come on, Red, use that brain. If I have to feed you
the answer, you'll start wondering about the catch.>>

About a block from the dorm, Willow cleared her
throat, then fell silent.

<< Last call.>> "Yes, witch?"

"What if ..." The next sentence came out as one word.
"What if you wrote a letter saying you loved ... umm
... NSync ... and I gave it to Willie the Snitch to
hold?"

Spike looked amused. "And I would trust Willie the
Snitch because...?"

"That's a detail. You write the letter, I'll figure
out someplace to put it so that Willie gets it if I
die, and we're set!" She was glowing with the
satisfaction of a problem solved.

"It's a bargain, Pet." <<And we won't mention the
vampire literacy rate, will we?>>

Willow beamed at Spike. "I've got to set some things
up with friends. I'll let you know when it's ready!"
And she scampered off to the floodlit door, swiped her
card through the reader, and vanished into the
dormitory.

Spike stood for a moment, watching the door. <<Honors
to me, I think.>> He spun on his heel and strode off
toward the graveyard.

****

What with one thing and another, a week went by.
Willow slept in, tracked down that pesky pointer,
corresponded with an old math-team buddy, got an A on
her paper on "Cooperation between enemies in *The
Prince*", and wore the single ugliest skirt ever seen
in Sunnydale.

Spike, meanwhile, smoked, paced, announced repeatedly
that he was evil, and scraped off and reapplied the
polish on his nails. Five times.

One afternoon, while Spike nodded, nearly napping,
suddenly there came a tapping, as of some one gently
rapping, rapping at the crypt's old door. << Damned
well about time!>> A soft voice said "Spike? It's
me. Are you awake?"

Spike pushed the extremely departed Viola Simmons to
one side, climbed out of the sarcophagus, and
strolled, to the door, in what he hoped was a casual,
uninvolved fashion. "Yes?"

There stood Willow, with a plastic suitcase in one
hand and a flashlight in the other. "Leaving town,
Red?"

"Not exactly. Can I come in?"

Spike snorted. "Since when do you need to ask?
Turning vampire, luv?"

"Being polite is always good." Willow walked in.

"What's the suitcase, witch?"

Willow looked him in the eye. "Well, I was thinking.
It's really easy to say you didn't write a letter. I
don't even know how many people recognize your
handwriting. I've never seen it myself. So I thought
we'd use something you couldn't back out of -- a
videotape. And, in case you were wondering, this
camcorder doesn't use mirrors, so it sees vampires
just as clearly as you do."

Spike forced himself to grin. "The thought never
crossed my mind." << Damn. Blindsided twice in two
minutes. Note to self: Never give this girl time to
think through a problem. >>

Willow soldiered on, "So, if you're ready, we can set
up the blackmail part of this deal."

"Not so fast, ducks. Before I hand you what remains
of my reputation, I'd like some proof that you can
deliver on your side of the bargain."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Here we go again.
Zero-knowledge proof."

Spike's face went blank. "Zero-what?"

"Zero-knowledge proof. I need to prove to you that I
know how to set you free, without giving the
information away so you don't need me any more. Let
me sit down and think."

"Have a tomb, luv. The occupants won't mind."

Willow perched uneasily on the edge of a vandalized
sarcophagus. <<It still comes down to trust. But if I
tell him that, he'll back out.>> "Okay, how would you
break a computer?"

"I find throwing them across the room works a treat."

<<Why do I think that's experience speaking?>> "The
chip's inside your head, silly."

Spike glared. Willow continued, oblivious.

"I don't think you want me throwing your head across
the room. In fact, you don't want me physically
touching your head at all."

Spike quirked an eyebrow. "I wouldn't go that far,
pet..."

Willow colored to her ears. <<I want OUT of this
conversation NOW! Try another tack.>> "If you needed
a computer answer, who would you kidnap?"

"I've sworn off kidnapping, pet. Too bloody many
heroic rescues. But I take your point. You're the
local expert on knobs and lights and stuff."

"Okay. I'm the expert. I have no reason to lie about
this, right?"

Spike maintained his neutral expression. "I suppose."

Unconsciously, Willow stood up and assumed her best
classroom manner.

"There's something called an EMP that can damage
computer chips without touching them. If we expose
you to a strong enough EMP, it should destroy the chip
without hurting you.

"By the way, knowing what an EMP is won't do you any
good. Trust me, you'll need special equipment to do
this, and I'm not telling you what that is in advance.
I'm not stupid, you know."

<<Nor she is.>>

Willow suddenly looked worried. "Unless -- vampires
aren't made of silicon inside, are they? You're not
some sort of cyborg... because you go dusty when you,
um, ... anyway, I've never had to clean up a vampire
corpse, so I'm not sure what's inside a..."

Spike sniffed. "Vampires roamed the Earth long before
computers." <<And with any luck we'll be here long
afterward as well.>>

"Okay. So I'll just set up the lights, and we can
make the tape. Be right there." Willow balanced a
flashlight on yet another crypt, and began assembling
the camcorder. "Okay, Spike, stand against that wall
over there."

He struck a menacing pose, and Willow bit the inside
of her cheek. "Okay, here we go." She pressed
RECORD. "Spike, why are you here?"

Spike dropped the pose and advanced on Willow. "What
sort of bloody stupid question is that?"

Willow pressed STOP and sighed. <<I knew this
wouldn't be easy.>> "Spike, we're making a blackmail
tape, right? The vampires who watch this tape need to
know what it is. Explain it for them."

Spike snarled, paced back to the wall, and faced the
camera. Willow pressed RECORD.

"I'm making this sodding tape because I need sodding
help from Little Orphan Annie here --"

<<Perfect, just what I was hoping for!>>

"--and she doesn't have the bloody sense to write this
on a bloody label."

Willow decided to go for broke. "And what's your
opinion of 'N Sync?"

"I'd like to use their throats as cup holders."

Willow gulped, then rewound the tape. "Spike.... try
again." She looked into the viewfinder to avoid
meeting his eye.

Spike looked murderous. "One day, Red... I love 'N
Sync. I have all their albums. And that is the
bloody end of this statement."

Willow hit STOP, then let her shoulders collapse.
"Good enough. I'll drop this off and get back to you."

Spike stormed up to Willow and grabbed her arms.
"WHAT did you just say?" He shook her once hard, then
collapsed to the floor with his head in his hands.

Willow backed to the door. "I'm dropping this off
with a neutral third party. My parents' lawyer. She
thinks I'm afraid of my ex-boyfriend. If I'm still
alive in a year, she destroys the tape. If not..."

Spike stalked toward her. "And I should trust you
because?"

"Because I'm a good guy. I keep my promises. If I
just wanted to humiliate you, I wouldn't need this.
And I give you my solemn promise that this is going
straight to the lawyer. In one year, if I'm still
alive, the lawyer destroys the tape."

Spike nearly smiled.

Willow continued. "Oh, and if Xander, Buffy, Giles,
Tara, or even Anya dies in that year and I think you
were involved, I tell the lawyer to mail the tape to
Willy for distribution. Got it?"

<<Not bad, witch.>> "Got it. A trifle open-ended,
but..."

"I'll be back tomorrow evening and tell you what we do
next."

****

But the next evening, Spike rose early to find no
Willow, only a note propped on the edge of the crypt.
<<Block printed. Maybe she does know about the
vampire literacy rate. >>

MEET ME AT THE BACK DOOR OF STEELE HALL AT 7:00.

-WILLOW

Spike growled. <<What the fuck is Steele Hall when
it's at home?>>

He finally found the building by asking a passing
student. <<Time was, I wouldn't have even bothered to
rip this moron's throat out, far less talk to him.
Flannel shirt indeed.>> When he came into sight of
the building, he saw the redhead standing next to a
metal door, chatting with a tall lanky boy he didn't
recognize.

The tall boy fiddled with the door, and Willow walked
in. "Thanks, Calvin, I owe you one."

"No prob. Let me know if you find the missing dark
matter, right?"

Spike waited for the tall boy to leave, then rapped on
the door. Willow opened it.

"Oh, good, you're here. Come on, we need to get in
and out before the watchman notices us. Not that he'd
probably care, the physics majors are in and out all
hours of the night, but still..."

Her voice was higher than normal, and she didn't quite
meet his eyes. <<Good. That hasn't happened for far
too long.>>

"Follow me."

Spike watched the pink, purple, and aquamarine skirt
disappear up the institutional stairs, and headed
after her. They climbed up two floors. Then Willow
opened the hall door, scanned both ways, sprinted down
to a door marked "Lab 235", and keyed in a code on the
number pad. <<Bloody hell, I've seen enough labs to
last me the rest of my unlife.>>

Willow looked back. "Hurry up, the lock will time
out!"

Spike walked, deliberately slowly, to the door, and
slipped inside just as the lock emitted a loud click.

To Spike's relief, the "lab" looked nothing like the
cages and operating theatres he'd learned to loathe in
captivity. It was a plain, high-ceilinged
institutional room full of odd-looking machines, each
covered with knobs, switches, and displays. In one
corner was what looked like a pair of rabbit ears for
an old-fashioned television. Willow did something to
its base. Sparks began to crawl up from the base to
the top, then disappear with a loud snap.

"Not that it isn't entertaining, luv, but I am NOT
Frankenstein."

"Actually, I'd be Dr. Frankenstein, you'd be the
monster. This is more sort of an experiment. Stand
over here. You don't have to touch it."

"I've had quite enough experimenting, Red. I thought
you knew what you were doing?"

"Spike, I know several solutions, and one of them
should work. We're starting with the simplest one,
then moving up. This one's really easy; you just have
to stand next to it. Just watch the sparks."

Spike walked over to the rabbit ears and watched the
sparks rise to the top. "It'll never replace
television. Now what?"

Willow hugged herself. <<I hate this. This is the
scary part.>> "We have to find out if you can hurt a
living thing. I thought about borrowing a rat from
the bio department, but what did the rat ever do to
deserve that? I mean, the biologists kill rats all the
time, but at least they're advancing human knowledge.
And rats always make me think of Amy now anyway. So I
guess you'll have to pinch me and see what happens."
And she stiffly held out one arm.

Spike looked blank. Then he slapped the outstretched
hand, and fell to the floor.

Willow, ignoring her hand, fell to her knees beside
him. "I'm really sorry about that. This next one I
feel a lot more confident about. It should work,
honestly."

Spike raised his head and snarled, "Thanks so much for
your confidence."

Willow stood up, turned off the Jacob's ladder, and
walked across the room to another machine. This one
looked like a silver mushroom on a tall, thin pillar.
When she turned it on, it began to hum. She looked
around, then dragged a small rubber pad next to the
machine and stepped on to it.

Willow turned to Spike and assumed her best lecturing
manner. "This is a Van de Graaf generator. It sets
up a really high voltage at a low current. It's
perfectly safe. Watch what happens when I touch it."
Willow laid both hands on the mushroom, and her red
hair suddenly became a halo. "As a side effect, it
puts out an enormous EMP. I'm pretty sure this will
do the trick. Now you try."

"Bloody Hell, witch!"

Willow lifted her chin. "Don't be a sissy. I went
first. Your turn. Unless you're afraid..."

That did it. Spike strode up to the pillar, pushed
Willow off the pad, stepped on to it and laid both
hands on the mushroom. Nothing much happened. He
stepped off the pad and looked at Willow, who had
backed away.

"Remember, if I die, Willy gets the tape." She held
out one hand.

"I remember." He walked toward her and slapped the
outstretched hand with his right hand. No effect.
Willow looked at him wide-eyed.

"It worked!"

Before she could say anything else, he struck her hard
on the point of the chin with his left hand, and she
slumped to the floor.

****

read the sequal 'In The Company Of Wolves'

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