DISCLAIMER:All of the characters appearing in this story belong to the WB, except Mary whom I made up myself. I also do not own Star Wars or any of it's characters. All other movie references also belong to their respective creators.
RATING:PG-13
BACKGROUND: Season 4 story. Happens on the Wednesday after Aftershocks. Buffy/Spike Xander/Anya action. Thoughts are cited with * *

The note had been delivered to the office of police psychologist Mary Collins in a blank envelope. It read, "I suggest you visit the house of a Mr. Rupert Giles this Wednesday at 9:00 p.m. Psychological testing of the group may reveal clues to the recent murder in the cemetery last week." Mary was new to Sunnydale, but she had come from LA and seen some really strange stuff. Her transfer onto the Sunnydale police force was what she had wanted. Sunnydale seemed like a nice, quiet little town; nothing ever happened there, except that big explosion on Graduation last year. Sure, it was a step down from the dangers of LA, and its police force appeared to be slower than average, but it was what she had been looking for, nice and normal. Until the murders in the cemetery.

Her superiors had been uncommonly slow at investigating the bizarre double murder of two college coeds on the past Friday night. Somehow no one was doing any heavy duty investigating into the motives or causes of the murder. Whoever had done it was strong, beating the victims to death. It was suspicious that the victims had been cheating on their partners, but both of their partners had airtight alibis. The case had already been written off as gang violence. If she'd been back home in LA, she would have been appalled. So getting permission, she was able to take another officer with her to check out the house. It would be a simple routine questioning on their dating habits and opinions on cheating. The odds of learning much at all were low, but even if none of them did the deed, perhaps she would find some insight on whoever did.

Apparently she interrupted some type of meeting(she never was exactly sure what type). There were six people in attendance, a gentle-looking red-haired girl, a brunette male, a pretty athletic blonde girl, another light haired girl, a very blonde man, and a middle-aged man she assumed was Mr. Rupert Giles. After explaining the situation to this assorted group, they agreed to be interviewed individually in one of the upstairs rooms of the house. Before she went up the stairs, she noted the seating arrangements of her subjects with great interest. The blonde and redhead were sitting together on a couch with the older man hovering protectively over the blonde. The brunette male and light brown-haired female were on a love seat holding hands. The blonde man though was standing was far away as possible from the rest of the group. Perhaps they had some issues, but he couldn't have been too unfriendly since he kept a sharp eye on the two girls on the couch.

Choosing a comfortable chair, Mary moved a chair directly in front of her, set her tape recorder on the coffee table and prepared for her first interview.

The blonde went first. She was wearing blue jeans and a sleeveless blue top, which emphasized her athletic fitness. The girl was somewhat small, but something about her communicated energy, even if she looked rather nervous at being interviewed.

"Name?" Mary asked, clipboard and pencil ready for notes.

"Buffy Anne Summers."

"Miss Summers, what is your current status?"

A look of confusion crossed her face, "You mean what I do, right? I am a freshman at UC Sunnydale."

"Are you from around here?"

"Not exactly. I lived in LA before I moved to Sunnydale." There was some reluctance in the last statement.

'Why did you move from LA to Sunnydale?"

The shortness of the answer was somewhat surprising. "I was expelled."

."Oh," Mary had not expected that. "What kind of student were you?"

"I was okay." There was a pause. "I tend to have things I can't help come up." She spoke again quickly, "Like my parents divorce."

"I understand." This was Mary's chance to get into her main line of questioning. "On that topic, what is your current marital status?"

"I'm single."

"Are you seeing someone?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" The girl asked on the defensive.

"Please answer the question."

Taking a deep breath, the girl grudgingly admitted, "Yes, I'm seeing someone."

Here was a moment to proceed with caution. The girl was obviously very sensitive about this subject. "May I inquire whom?"

Another moment of silence, characterized by Miss Summers biting her lip. "Alright," she said slowly. "If you need to know, I'm kinda dating that really hot blonde guy downstairs."

"Why are you so hesitant to answer?" Mary asked quickly, trying to get her to reveal more.

"None of my friends are in the know. It's only me and him."

"Why haven't you told them?"

"I can't. They would be so against me dating him, like every other guy I've ever dated."

"So you have had difficult relationships in the past?" Mary expected more reluctance.

Instead she got laughter. "Yes, only all of them. Three specifically."

"Could you describe them in some detail?"

"Do I have to?" There was some underlying hostility boiling to the surface there.

It was time to play the trump card, to force the girl to stop avoiding any questions. "Need I remind you this is a police investigation?"

"Fine, but I have confidentiality and all that, right?" She was almost ready to open up.

All she needed was some assurance, Mary knew. "I can only share information relative to the case."

"Okay, I guess. Let's see. My first real boyfriend was great, for awhile. We had great chemistry and everything. He was my first love." Her eyes stared at nothing as she remembered, "Sure, he was a little older than me, but I loved him. Our problems were in his background."

"What kind of background was he from?"

The girl seemed to consider how to reply, "He, well, I guess, he came from a gang. He was like their leader and everything. That wasn't good because Buffy is very anti-gangs. When I met him though, he'd quit the gang totally. No contact, no visits, he was gone. None of his old . . . friends knew where he was, not his best friend or his old girlfriend. When they found him again, they were a little . . .upset."

"Did they blame you for the change in him?"

"Maybe a little. They showed up and were trying to make a bigger . . .gang. Since I'm all anti-gang, I was trouble for them."

Enough about the gangs, the real question was what went wrong. "You said he was great for awhile. What happened that you fell out of love?"

"We went all the way. Then he dumped me." The blonde searched for the right words. "It was like he was a different person afterwards."

"It is common for one's partner to change after physical intimacy. So he was the same, but acted different?"

"No, he was a different person. One day he was nice, and then he was all cruel and stalker-boyfriend like. We were all surprised when he rejoined the gang and took over his best friend's spot as leader. Then it got creepy because he started to follow my friends and me around."

*A classic abusive boyfriend situation, poor girl.* "Did you call the police?"

"No. It was kinda my fault he changed. I hoped he would go away. Turns out his best friend hoped that too."

"I thought you said they were best friends."

"I did. It gets majorly complicated here. My boyfriend's old girlfriend was dating his best friend while my boyfriend was out of the gang. The second he rejoined, he put the moves on his best friend's girl and stole her back."

"That made him angry, I'm sure. What did he do about it?" A question like that could give a good view of her opinion of cheating lovers.

"He joined forces with me. In exchange for letting him and his girlfriend, if you could call her that still, leave peacefully, he helped me get my ex. . .um-arrested." The sentence was finished in a jumble.

"Where is your ex now?"

"Uhh. After some radical rehabilitation in Hell. . .glade Institution, he was back to his anti-gang self." The girl was having some difficulty choosing her words now. "It was very hard with him being back because we couldn't start at the beginning again. So he left for LA."

"Does he still have feelings for you?"

"He loves me more than life." There wasn't a shred of hesitation in her voice.

"And how do you feel toward him?" Mary was more interested in her answer now than its relevance to the case.

"I don't know. There is always going to be something between us, but I had to move on. We could never be together so waiting for him would have killed me. I did move on though. It took some looking, but I found someone else."

"Why was it so hard?"

"Well, even though my ex's best friend and his girlfriend were gone, gangs were still big. Since I was their mortal enemy and all, anyone I dated tended to become a target. I did have a relationship with this upperclassman who dumped me after he got what he wanted." She thought for a second. "That brings me to my other ex."

"What was his background?" she asked, wondering what could have been wrong with the next one. *Hopefully Miss Summers found a healthier relationship than her first.*

"He's just a normal guy. Not a member of any gangs, not a homicidal maniac. All in the pluses. I still had trouble with the gangs, so when I was fighting them, sometimes I had to lie to him. I felt bad, but I didn't want him to get hurt."

"Lying is no way to start a healthy relationship."

"I know. Stuff happened, and it turned out that he was as anti-gangs as I was. While I had been lying to him about what I was doing, he'd been lying to me. It was great. I thought I had it made."

"This boyfriend sounds perfect for you. What went wrong?"

"He and I just didn't work. I was forced to fight the gangs to protect myself and my friends. To him it was like a hobby, an after-school thing. We didn't share the same view on gangs, either. He would have never forgiven my first ex. Then he got too normal for me, no spark. And once my current boyfriend came into the picture, there was no competition."

*This girl must have a wish to be hurt. She couldn't stay in a relatively healthy relationship for very long.* "I see we are moving to boyfriend number three."

"Yes ma'am."

"What makes him different from the previous two?"

"We understand each other and accept each other was we are. I know what makes him tick, and he knows what gets me." She was contemplating her words very carefully, probably meaning every one of them. "I'm happy when I'm with him, except of course, us not being able to go public."

"Why not?"

"His background."

Mary underlined her notes about background on her clipboard again. *Why did this girl insist on really falling for guys that were no good.* "What is it in his background that keeps you from sharing?"

"He's my first ex boyfriend's old best friend."

The psychologist dropped her pen. Mary had not even considered that as a possible answer. "I thought you said he was in a gang," she gasped, aware her shock was showing.

"He is." Miss Summers said calmly.

"I thought you had a deal for him to leave with his girlfriend."

"We did. He and his girlfriend broke up . . .permanently, and he's mine."

Shaking her head, Mary said, "I still don't understand, Miss Summers. What about the issue of the gang?"

"He's on my side now. He's more of an informant against the gang. He helps me by keeping his ties with them. A while ago the authorities picked him up, and they taught him a lesson. Since he learned it, he's back out on the streets helping my secret agent style."

"May I assume this is a dangerous job?"

Miss Summers nodded, "Very. He betrayed is whole gang family because of the authorities. It's not easy, but, on the other hand, he doesn't have to worry about me putting a hole in him anymore."

The current boy sounded even more dangerous than the first. Miss Summers had not said her new boyfriend actually regretted his actions with the gangs or was even really against them. Time for the big questions. "Has he ever threatened you with violence?"

"Not lately."

"Could you be more specific?" Mary said testily, seeing the avoidance in her subject's face.

"I've known him for three years now. When we met, we were enemies."

"Did he threaten you then?"

"Oh yeah. He promised to kill me if I interfered." She stopped, realizing how that sounded and quickly added. "But it was three years ago, before we started dating."

Sighing heavily, Mary asked, "Has he ever hit you or threatened you recently?"

"While we've been dating or before? Before we were dating, yeah, he hit me all the time. Doesn't mean I didn't hit back. But now that we are dating, he only does once or twice a day."

"Miss Summers, are you saying he hits you regularly?"

A light appeared to go on in her head. "Oh, you mean like abuse. No, he definitely does not abuse me." She saw the doubt in Mary's eyes. "Wait, let me explain. I guess in the normal equivalent, wow, big word there, I am a black belt. He's one too, so we fight, but it's like training and stuff."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a strange taste in men? Why are you with him when you have two waiting in the wings?" This should prove to be an interesting answer.

"I told you; we understand each other. We fight alot, but we always meet in the middle. It's like we fit together. I don't know if this is love. I know I crave him." The last was spoken so passionately that Mary could not doubt the truth in that statement.

She needed to ask some final questions. "What is your opinion on cheating?"

"Don't do it." Her voice was flat. "People who do it are scum and should be treated like it. Some of my friends did it, and I was really mad. Cheating is low. Be kind, break-up."

"Have you ever cheated?"

"No. I broke it off with my second guy before number three and I got that far."

Here it was, the definitive question. "What would you do if he cheated on you?"

"He can't." Another flat answer.

"Elaborate on that, please." Mary got her pen ready.

"It's that. . . he hates cheaters. After his best friend and girlfriend did it, it makes him mad. Besides he knows I'd beat him within an inch of his . . .life."

"Do you believe your boyfriend capable of harming another human being?"

The response was quick and sure. "Not a chance. His run-in with the authorities completely changed him. He can't, I mean, won't lay a finger intent on hurting any human beings."

"That was a very . . .enlightening interview, Miss Summers. Send in the next one please." She consulted the clipboard, "A Mr. Harris."

The young man that entered had messy dark brown-hair and a casual stance. His clothes were wrinkled like no one had ironed them lately, and he looked vaguely worried. He slouched in the chair, appearing rather unsure of himself, but not very nervous.

"Name?"

"Alexander Harris."

"Age?"

"Nineteen."

"What is your current occupation?"

He shrugged, "It depends on the week. This week I sell encyclopedias. I've been a pizza delivery boy before."

Mary guessed he wasn't going to be a high achiever. "Where are you living?"

"In my parents' basement," he admitted.

"You did graduate from high school," she said, hoping he wasn't that kind of underachiever.

"Yes, I did, Sunnydale High, Class of '99. One of the few surviving members," he stated proudly.

"What is your marital status?"

Harris smiled at this, "I'm single, but not free as a bird."

She did not particularly appreciate his humor. "Please be more specific."

"I am seeing someone pretty seriously."

"Whom?"

"The brunette downstairs, Anya."

*At least he could get a date.* "How did you met her?"

"She went to my school. I was seeing someone else at the time."

"So you have had several girlfriends?" Mary had believed that he would have had problems in high school getting dates. Apparently not, Harris must have hidden depths to him.

"I guess so. I usually see myself having a run of bad luck," he said.

"Could you start at the beginning?" She asked, ready to see the aspects of his psyche in his relationships.

"Fine. My first girlfriend is also downstairs."

His statement surprised her. "She is?!"

"Yeah, Willow, we were six. We broke up when I stole her Barbie doll."

Mary looked at him doubtfully. Was he treating this as some type of joke? "Be a bit more recent on this run of bad luck."

"It started with Miss French in school."

"A teacher?" she exclaimed. *This boy had been targeted by a pedophile?*

"She was a substitute, and she had psychological Exorcist type problems. Miss French had a young virgin boy fetish. But I was okay."

Fearing a case of possible abuse, she carefully asked, "I see. Did you two-"

"Not with her. My friends caught on to her game and turned her into the higher authorities."

She sighed in relief, glad to narrow out that type of abuse from him. No one deserved anything like that. "Okay, next girl."

He scratched his head, "Her name was Amputa. She was a gorgeous foreign exchange student. She and I really hit it off."

"So what was so bad about her?"

"The relationship was kinda parasitic, like Aliens. You know, she was the type that sucked the life out of any guy she was dating. I got out of that before she got me too."

"Identity loss can be frightening," Mary agreed sympathetically.

"You have no idea," he thought for a second. "Identity was a bit of a problem with my next girlfriend."

"Who was she?" Whoever it was could not possibly be as frightening as the teacher.

"Cordelia Chase, the most popular girl in Sunnydale High. Too bad I was in the wrong crowd. I know I'm no prize, a super-hero or anything like that, but I do have my moments."

"Was this identity thing a permanent problem?"

"Not exactly. We worked through that, made out in lots of closets, but things, of course with me, went sour."

"How? What did she do?" She assumed it was the girlfriend's fault.

"It was all me. I got her to really open up to me, and I pulled a Ross Geller."

Whatever reference he was making was lost on her. "What did you do?"

"I kissed Willow; Cordy saw. Hurt herself by mistake and ended up in the hospital."

"Wasn't Willow your first girlfriend?"

"Yeah."

"So Willow was your next girlfriend?" Mary realized this ruled him out of the murder equation, but she still wanted to know.

"Nope, she stayed with her boyfriend. I did the Single Guy thing for a while." He stopped for a second as if he was considering adding something, but decided against it. "Then Anya and I hooked up after a long while."

"Why are you with her?"

"My run of bad luck seems to have ended. Once she worked out her-issues, she turned into a pretty cool girl."

"What kind of issues?"

"Anya was, well, a radical feminist. She was into castration of cheaters and stuff like that." The look on her face caused him to hastily add, "But it's okay. We worked out her 'I hate men, men are bad' attitude, and we are completely cool."

Mary couldn't quite see his logic, but he seemed convinced that his new girlfriend was fine. "Seeing that you've done it, what is your opinion on cheating."

"It's a bad, bad thing. Huge guilt trip. If the hypothetical boyfriends of Willow and Buffy cheated on them, I'd pound him. But only cause they're my close friends. I'm not a physical fist-type guy. At least when I'm not being Rambo."

She did understand that one, even though she didn't see where that went in the line of questioning. If Harris wasn't the suspect, then his girlfriend possibly was. "What would Anya do if you cheated on her?"

"I wouldn't do that. The whole thing with Willow happened because I was in a life or death situation. Faith, too." He punched himself, horrified with what he had said.

"Who's Faith?" Mary jumped on that; he'd been hiding something.

Harris spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "One night stand between girlfriends. That's all I can say. She wasn't coloring with a full box of crayolas. Anywho, I will not cheat on Anya, no matter what."

He seemed so sincere, but she had to press him with more questions. "Could she cheat on you?"

"Not in this lifetime. She sees cheating as a mortal sin."

Now came the important question, "Can you see her hurting a human being?"

"No, she's cured," his quip was so quick that she decided not to push anymore.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Harris, please send in Mr. Rupert Giles."

The graying middle-aged man fiddled with his glasses. Mary supposed he was in his mid-fifties and he had a certain English air about him. He was nervous, but he did appear to have a handle on his composure.

"You are Mr. Rupert Giles?"

"Yes, I am," his reply was dignified and controlled.

Control did not suit her purposes. She needed him to open up and let his feelings come to the surface. This would require some pointed inquiries to get him riled up. "Why are all of these young people at your house tonight? Who are they to you? You seem to be a bit older than them."

"Most of them at least," he replied unruffled. "They are students of mine, or they were. I was the librarian of Sunnydale High."

"Yes, the school that was destroyed. I heard about the tragedy. If your place of employment no longer exists, why are they here?"

"Study group?" he suggested.

Mary seriously doubted the truth of his statement, considering Harris had not mentioned attending college, but she let it go. "Mr. Giles, are you married?"

"No," he was short and to the point.

"Seeing anyone?"

"Not on a regular basis." Her line of questioning appeared to be bothering him.

"Can you give me a brief summary of your romantic history?"

Mr. Giles certainly took offense at that. "Is that not my personal business?"

She felt some remorse for pushing him, but it was necessary. "We are the police. Do we need to make it our business?"

"No need, madam." He drew himself up, drawing his dignity close. "I did have a serious relationship with Sunnydale High School's former computer teacher, Jennifer Calendar."

"How did it end?"

"She died."

His short answer didn't reveal anything. She had to push. "Can you be a little more specific?"

He made a clicking noise in his throat, "No, other than her murderer has since passed on."

Mary felt terrible, having to ask that. It didn't narrow him out, it made him a bigger suspect. "I'm sorry. How long has it been?"

"About two and a half years."

"Has there been anyone else since then?"

He was reluctant on this one. "I did have a short relationship with Joyce Summers."

That name sounded familiar; Mary checked her notes. "Is that the mother of Buffy Anne Summers?!"

"Yes."

"One of your students! Mr. Giles, is that ethical?"

He was very offended by her implied comment. "We are both adults, but that was one of the reasons why it ended. I love Buffy like a daughter, and I knew it was not a good idea to continue such an association. In the interest of the child." Mr. Giles's tone changed significantly when talking about Buffy Summers.

She turned his argument back on him. "Buffy Summers is an adult now."

"She will always be my student. In my mind, the student will always come first, before my own needs." He straightened himself considerably, and he raised his chin.

That reaction was very interesting, but she would pursue it in a minute. "Have you had any other recent relationships?"

"I see Olivia on occasion when she visits from England. She has not been around for some months."

Since he did not seem to have any real attachment to that relationship, Mary saw this as an ideal opportunity to return to the sensitive issue of Buffy Summers. "You seem to have a father-daughter relationship with Buffy Summers." She lifted her hand in peace. "I do not see anything wrong with that. Her parents' divorce left her with a need for the father figure I assume you provide. Is she seeing anyone at this time?"

"At the present, not to my knowledge. She is an adult; she doesn't need to tell me everything."

Mary tried a different angle. "What was your opinion of her first boyfriend?"

It generated an immediate reaction; he stiffened. "He was, to put it mildly, trouble."

"Do you blame yourself for what happened with them?"

"Not at all. I wish I could have protected her, but that did not make any of it my fault." There was a slight tremor in his voice that belied his words.

"Interesting. What is your opinion on cheating?" Mary began to ask questions quickly, not giving him time to think of responses.

"Beyond the obvious lack of respect and courtesy it demonstrates, I dislike the thought."

"Have you ever been unfaithful, Mr. Giles?"

"No."

"What would you do if one of Buffy's boyfriends cheated on her?"

"I would become very angry. Very angry indeed."

"What if one hit her?"

He stood, knocking the chair over. "I WOULD KILL HIM!!"" He froze and picked up the chair, sitting back down and adjusting his glasses. "No. I would certainly have a long loud talk with him."

Hiding her surprise, Mary had nothing else to say. She had successfully gotten a response, but she knew he was not the one she was looking for. "Thank you Mr. Giles. Could you send up the red-head now?

The others had been uncomfortable, but this red-head was downright frightened. She fidgeted on the chair under Mary's gaze. Her hair was short and she was wearing a little black T-shirt. The look of vulnerability gave her a certain gentleness. Mary felt cruel to have to subject her to the interview, but it was her job.

"Name?"

"Willow. Willow Rosenburg."

"Age and occupation."

"Nineteen, student at UC Sunnydale."

It seemed to be going fine. The next question. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Unexpectedly, she burst into tears. "No, not now."

Mary was instantly for this girl. "What happened?"

"He was going through a really tough time," she said between sobs. "He left."

It was probably best to come back to this volatile subject later. "Miss Rosenburg, I assume you know a Mr. Alexander Harris."

Miss Rosenburg paused her crying. "Xander. Yes, we went to school together."

"According to him, you dated."

"When we were six. He stole my Barbie; we broke up."

The girl had not mentioned the kiss Harris had told her about. Her side of the story could prove very interesting. "Did you retain some feelings for him?"

"I guess. No, that's not true. I loved him completely."

"May I assume he did not return your affection?"

"That's right. He was always in love with Buffy," she said regretfully.

Harris had hardly said anything about Buffy in the interview, except the part about what he would do to Willow's and Buffy's boyfriends. "Who is Buffy to you? Were you jealous?"

"She's my best friend. I could never be jealous of Buffy, at least not alot. She doesn't like Xander in that way."

They needed to return to the other boyfriend. Perhaps from this angle it would be less painful. "If you weren't dating Mr. Harris, who were you dating?"

"Oz. I mean Daniel Osborn."

Seeing there were not tears, Mary asked, "What kind of person was he?"

Rosenburg warmed to the subject. "The best. Very sensitive and cool. He played the guitar in this band. Not ultra motivated, a year older than me, but we graduated together."

"You said you were in love with Harris. How did you end up with Mr. Osborn?"

She shrugged, "I found Xander with Cordelia. My hopes were dashed, smashed, crushed, mashed-"

"I got the general idea."

"Well, after that I really gave Oz a chance. He paid attention to me, so when I was finally over Xander, we got together, even when he went through some changes."

More familiar territory. "Changes. Your friend Miss Summers said her first boyfriend went through some changes too. What kind of changes did Osborn have?"

"No, not those kind of changes." She shook her head vehemently, "Oz found he had a. . .medical condition. It was a little hard at first, but he was doing an okay job of coping." Tears began to form in her eyes again.

Jumping subjects quickly, Mary said, "Harris said there was some incident between you two that could have been considered unfaithful."

Her eyes snapped open. "It should have never, ah- it should not have ever happened. We were kidnapped by Spike, and we thought we were going to die. It was a 'Let's-kiss-once-in-case-we-kick-the-bucket' kiss. That was when Oz and Cordy found us."

*Kidnapping? What kind of school had these subjects gone to.* "Who is Spike?"

"It doesn't matter. He's changed." She sounded doubtful.

"But he threatened you?"

"Yeah, but he was going through a bad break-up at the time. He probably wouldn't have hurt us. Probably."

What she wouldn't give to interview this Spike character. "How did Oz take it?"

"It was hard, but we worked it out. I felt bad cause Cordy and Xander broke up. Unfortunately Oz and I couldn't get past the next part."

"What was the next part?" Mary asked, knowing it was likely to trigger tears.

"Oz started having problems with his condition. It made him ready to stray, but he didn't. It got to be too much for him, so he packed up and left." She was on the verge of tears again.

"What was his medical condition?"

Rosenburg mumbled something through the falling tears. It sounded like lycanthropy. Mary handed her a Kleenex. "You can leave whenever you're ready. Send up the last girl."

The final girl had short light brown hair. She was rather pretty with some type of odd aura about her. She was chewing pink bubble gum loudly, and Mary got the distinct feeling that it would be a short interview.

"Are you Anya?"

The girl nodded, "At the present."

Ignoring the odd answer, Mary moved on. "You went to Sunnydale High School, and you are currently dating Mr. Alexander Harris."

"That's right, too."

"Why are you dating Mr. Harris?"

Anya, Mary lacked any other name to think of her as, snapped her gum. "We went to the Prom together."

"Any other reasons?"

"Sex." Anya thought for a second, "He's funny and nice. Also nicely shaped."

Definitely not a typical answer. Something about her seemed a little . . .off. It was time to plow ahead into the more important questions. "Do you know who Lorena Bobbitt is?"

"Yes, does it matter?"

"Do you see that as a good punishment?"

"Only if he cheated on her." She said frankly, "Or if she needed revenge."

Yet another strange reply. "You consider castration okay, then?"

She shrugged, "If they deserve it."

"What is your opinion on cheaters?"

"You just heard it."

"What would you do if Mr. Harris did it?"

"We'd break up, after I kicked him in the offending organ," she said conversationally.

"What about other people cheating? Would you hurt them?"

"No, not my job anymore."

Mary shook her head, trying in vain to understand this Anya girl. None of it made sense. In fact, these interviews didn't make sense. Homicidal boyfriends, teachers preying on high school boys, the whole gang problem thing, and now this girl who could only be described as brutally frank. "You're done. Just send the blonde man in."

Mary knew the last interview was going to be much different when her subject entered. Instead of taking the chair, he settled comfortably on the couch, setting his feet on the coffee table. He had incredibly blonde hair and pale skin, brought out by the black and red outfit he had on. On his face, however, he wore a decidedly amused expression, blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Hello, ma'am," he greeted her in a voice that betrayed an English accent.

Deciding to take control of the interview, she said, "Name."

"You can call me William."

"Can I have you're complete name?"

"Ma'am, I may not be a native, but I've been here for a long time. Without being charged with anything, I don't have to tell you anything. I was simply being polite. I don't have to be."

She conceded him the victory for now. "Fine, at least give me your age."

He flashed her a grin, revealing a perfectly white set of teeth. "I like to consider myself twenty-one."

It wasn't really an answer, but she had to take it. "So you are older than your girlfriend Buffy."

"Just a bit," he replied and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "How did you know we're together?"

She suddenly felt the urge to back off. Something about his tone warned her away, and it only served to make her more curious. "She told me. She also said none of your friends downstairs know."

"They're her friends. My friends don't know either."

"Yes, that seemed to be on Miss Summers mind. Why exactly haven't you cut ties with your gang?"

He actually chuckled, "Is that what the chit told you? The 'gang' I'm in has a lifetime membership, which can be unnaturally long or pretty short." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "You seem pretty interested in my relationship. Does this have anything to do with the murder in the cemetery last week? I don't know, two cheaters meeting by the headstones?"

*How had he known?* It was like he was examining what was in her head. "I can't answer that."

The man continued on, "And I'm sure by now, you know everyone in this group is perfectly innocent. No one, not even me, has the right mojo. I'd also wager you asked everyone about their little romances and discovered all their little problems. Me, I don't have issues with romance."

Knowing he'd beat her at her own game, she decided to play along with him. "Do you have issues?"

"Sure," He sighed dramatically, "I have issues with my father."

"Your father? What is the matter with him?"

"He's a sadist. Also the nancy-boy stole my bloody girlfriend once."

The clipboard few from her nerveless fingers. "Miss Summers said he was your best friend!"

"He was. Till he got all soulful and dropped out on us. Starts associating with the prey, shags the Slayer, and moves right back in on my girl. So he and Dru go off having fun, leaving me stuck in that bloody wheelchair."

"So I take it this is the point where you helped Miss Summers arrest your dad?"

"Only after I beat the Hell out of him with a crowbar."

She probably should have seen that one coming. "Oh," she managed to say.

He waved his hands in frustration. "If that wasn't bad enough, the blithering idolt didn't have enough sense to keep away. Dru goes off snogging other guys, and here I am back in Sunnyhell. Sometimes it's so hard to be Spike."

Mary recognized that name. "You're Spike? The guy that kidnapped Rosenburg and Harris?"

"Yeah, among other things. I nabbed them right after Dru and I broke up. Of course Dad was still around then, all over the Slayer. He just hung around even when he knew he couldn't have her. It was enough to make me want to heave."

Something else clicked in her head, "You've called Miss Summers the 'Slayer' twice now. Why?"

Spike, which she now labeled him, grimaced as if he had not meant to. "I'm going to guess we are a bit beyond the 'Buffy and I are in a rock band' excuse. So, I suppose I'll have to tell the truth. In the gang, I'm Spike. What do you think we'd call the leader of the opposing team? Cuddles?"

She had finally gotten him to slip up somewhere. Mary knew this was a time to press her advantage while she still had it. "What was your first girlfriend like?"

"I hope you mean Dru. She was loopy. Completely out of her rocker. A hundred fries short of one happy meal."

"But you stayed with her for a long time. Even after she cheated on you, you still sacrificed alot for her."

"You don't understand. I thought we had eternal love. We were together for a long time. I was planning on forever."

"Aren't you a little young for that?" *This man was planning on forever at the ripe old age of twenty-one?*

He laughed, "No, I don't think I'm too young."

"You must have been very committed. Why did she leave you?"

"I betrayed the gang by helping the Slayer take down Daddy Dearest. She couldn't forgive me, said I'd gone soft." He spoke the last part with such vehemence.

Mary took this as a sore subject and pushed harder. "Is that what you were? Soft?"

"No!" He shoot up from the couch, yellow eyes flashing angrily. Every instinct in Mary told her to run away from him right now and not come back. "No, I just changed my priorities. Didn't lose it completely like my sire did."

"Umm. Interesting eyes you have there. I could have sworn they were blue."

He allowed her to see his face better, and his eyes were blue. "Trick of the light?" he suggested.

She would have sworn that his eyes were yellow just then. His face had also looked a little strange, but maybe because it was convoluted in rage. Purposely forgetting what she had seen, Mary moved onto a new line of questions. "Have you dated anyone recently other than Miss Summmers?"

"I was with Harmony for a little while. We weren't . . . compatible. She had too little brain and appetite for destruction for my taste."

This did not comfort Mary at all. "So you were violent?"

"Were? What gave you the idea that I had changed?" humor showed in his voice.

"Your girlfriend said the authorities that caught you gave you a change of heart."

The man placed his had over his left chest as if he was feeling his heartbeat. "Piffle. My heart didn't skip a beat. I did change my behavior though. I reserve my violence for my former friends. My view of the world didn't change; my actions did."

His attitude did not bode well for his girlfriend. The so-called reform from the gangs was not a real change; it was simply some behavior modification. Then a thought occurred to her. "Is that why you and Miss Summers are a secret?"

"Could be. Changing alliances doesn't make me pals with my new allies. They expect me to dive off the deep end anytime like Dad did."

"Are they right?"

"If anything, I was nicer to them after shagging the Slayer than I was before."

None of that fit into any of the rational categories. How Miss Summers could even be attracted to this man was beyond her. He was devilishly handsome, but he had a mixed up view on life. Then again, Summers was aware of all of this and still went for him. "I have to ask. How did you end up with Summers?"

The man's face softened at this question. "Victims of opportunity. Lightning struck, and we are finding out that together we are stronger than whatever Sunnyhell can hit us with."

"What do you do as a job? Are you a postal worker?" The last slipped out by mistake.

"I should be insulted by that. I repair electronics," he was obviously enjoying her discomfort.

"Has anyone ever told you that you may be considered a sociopath?"

"More than once, but I'm still here. I shag the most lovely girl in the U.S. of A, avoid getting killed by my friends, and also got even with Dad. Can't see much to complain about."

Mary saw plenty for both of them. "You're happy since, let me see," she looked at her notes, "You and your father have now shared two girlfriends, and you seem to be winning. Am I getting this straight? You are dating a girl who lost her virginity to your father, right?"

"Yep, sounds right."

"And you're okay with this? Harris is with some girl who believes in male castration."

"That's what the demon-girl told you? If you thought my upbringing was bad, be glad you didn't hear about hers."

"Rosenburg, the red-head, is crying like crazy over her missing boyfriend's medical condition."

"'Medical condition,'" he snorted. "I'll say. Nice that Red told you about that. I really feel for her. She's having a tough time."

That was not possible. Sociopaths didn't care for other people. "You feel for her?" Mary asked doubtfully.

"Course. I am able to care about people. Just doesn't happen often."

"Now that is odd. Not as odd though as the librarian that slept with Miss Summers's mom."

For once the man was surprised, his jaw dropped, and he said astounded, "The Watcher nailed Mother Joyce? I had no idea. Maybe I should make him declare his intentions."

So he associated with his secret girlfriend's mother. "I take it you know Mrs. Summers?"

"Sure I do. She makes the best cocoa and marshmallows on this side of Hell."

That cinched it. "You are the strangest of this whole crew. Not by much, but you are. You steal your father's girlfriends twice, see people as prey, feel sympathy for Rosenburg, even though you may be a psychopath, and you like hot chocolate with your closet girlfriend's mom. What does Summers see in you?"

"Other than me being dammed sexy? I care for her. I put my life, if you can call it that, on the line for her daily."

At this point Mary knew her interview was shot to hell, but she didn't care. There was one more question she had to ask. "Do you love her?"

He never flinched. "More than I will ever know."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It's not supposed to. Sometimes things like that pop out. They're usually true."

"Like I said, you are the strangest person I've ever met."

The man stared at her for a long second, and Mary felt she was being examined from the inside out. It was weird to feel him looking inside of her. "You're new to Sunnyhell, aren't you?" he asked still looking at her.

She nodded, her skin prickling, and he continued, " Have you ever seen Star Wars?" At her second nod he went on, "You know the part where Obi Wan and Luke enter that cantina and Obi Wan says, 'You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.' Or something to that effect."

"Yeah, " she answered, still under his magnetic gaze.

"Well, I know for a fact that you didn't touch the tip of the iceberg with us. We're like the Wookie, the droids, and the Jedi. Strange but not compared to everything else in the bar." His voice dropped to a low warning level. "Count yourself lucky if we are the strangest thing you ever see in Sunnyhell."

For a man she'd told she considered him a psychopath, he seemed to care a remarkable amount for her. "Why are you telling me this?"

He shrugged and released her from his eyes. "Cause I can see a couple things. You're nice, and you are probably a pretty good cop. That's bad news in Sunnyhell. Unless you are deeply stupid like the rest of them, you'll never last. Coming here proved you're already too smart for your own good. Staying here alone with me proved you're too stupid to survive."

She shrank away at his statement, expecting him to attack her in some way. He didn't make a motion toward her. Instead he reached out and picked up her tape recorder. Turning it off, he crushed it easily with one hand. Mary blinked. She could not have possibly seen him compact it to half its size with just one hand. "What are you doing?"

"Saving your life. I know some people who would eat you for lunch to get a hold of this tape. I also know that you have recently been having doubts about transferring here." *How could he have possibly known?* "Go with that feeling. Do it while you still can. People who start looking too hard at how things are run around here end up in one of two places. Dead or in this house. And I can tell you right now, you're gonna be in the first one if you don't leave."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not at all. If you are as smart as I think you are, you'll take my advice. Until you transfer, I would recommend not walking alone at night and wearing a cross."

The advice he gave made about as much sense as most of what she'd seen tonight. Yet something in his voice and body told her that he was dead serious. Mary didn't mourn the loss of her tape recorder and the tape. She just wanted to leave this strange house and its weird people. Jotting a note on one of her pieces of paper, she handed it to him. "All of you are free to go on with your normal lives, or whatever passes for normal around here." She went downstairs with the man to pick up the other officer. Determined not to show any weakness, she forced herself to calmly enter the patrol car.

As she closed the door, she heard a strange howl that caused her hair to stand on end. She dismissed it as the wind. The howl came again. Mary turned on the car and considered how fast she could file that transfer form.

Spike watched the patrol car drive away, and felt the psychologist reach her decision to transfer. He unfolded the note and laughed. It read, "Everyone needs therapy!"